The cold hard floor felt unusually uncomfortable.

Max could feel every bit of his pain now. On his face and body were scars and bruises he knew not where they came from. Exhaustion had overtaken Max suddenly and he froze. Anxiety had made him stick to the floor like glue. His whole body ached, especially his leg. He grabbed it with intensity. It was a pain like no other. He didn’t know what to make of it. He worried that his suture session was a failure. He feared, he didn’t do a thorough job, that the cut had opened and a pool of blood covered the whole floor now. But that was not the case. The pain was only temporary. It was ceasing.

He saw the darkness before him. Leaping up and turning on the light, it burned his eyeballs, and he looked away suddenly. He fell onto the wall.

No blood, just a Charlie horse.

Sighing deeply, he managed to come to himself and opened his stinging eyelids. He didn’t know how long he had been asleep.

An hour? Maybe two? Who knew?

For all he knew, Alice was sound asleep still.

Max plopped down onto the toilet seat to think about all that had happened. He didn’t know what to make of it.

The strange City. The crazy men that haunt the borders. Guards chase after newcomers and senselessly beat young girls. A Queen they knew nothing about and who everyone feared. And Mr. R…

He missed him. He was like a father to Max and now he was gone. That pained him greatly. His chest felt tight as he breathed in heavily and sighed. He let it all out with a frustrated cry. He buried his face in his hands, rubbing it ferociously. Then he pulled his hair and shot straight up towards the door.

He remembered something. The paper that Mr. R handed Alice.

He thought maybe he could rummage through Alice’s belongings, but he found nothing.

Then looking up at where Alice was sleeping, he saw she wasn’t there.

The bed was all made and perfectly clean. No one seemed to have ever been here. He thought it strange.

But wasn’t she just here before I went to sleep?

The guards couldn’t have taken her because they would surely have found him as well and brought him in with her. It seemed as if no one wanted him to find out where she was for there was no trace of Alice to be found. The room looked polished and dusted, ready for any new patron.

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He thought he was going slightly mad. Maybe this was a dream, maybe it wasn’t real, or maybe Alice wasn’t real.

Maybe she was all a dream. What happened did not happen. We never left the orphanage, we never left our beds…

Quickly, Max looked around the room confused. His gaze finally came to a vent near the floor. In that vent, he noticed something waving. He scooped down and saw a small sliver of paper. He reached for it.

Upon looking at it, it read: Seek the fortress.

This must be the paper Mr. R gave Alice!

He wasn’t going mad, but rather solving a mystery.

Opening the front door of his room slightly, he peeked out. The hallway was just as it was. Clean, well-kept, and silent.

An eerie silence remained. He closed the door.

Frantically, he picked up the corded telephone and called the front desk. He waited for an answer, but no one came on the other end. It rang endlessly.

He put the phone back on the board.

Violently it rang.

Quickly, he picked it up.

“Hello?”

No answer. But there was no ringing sound, no bees on the other end—just silence.

“Hello?!” Max demanded.

All of a sudden a noise full of voracity and rage came screeching from the other end. It burst Max’s ear drums. He held his ears shut, but could still hear those deathly noises.

Abruptly, he hung up the phone.

Silence. That eerie silence again.

Max was terrified. It rang again, this time it seemed even louder than the first. He dared not pick it up, but he had to know what was happening. He had to find out information about who took Alice.

“Whoever this is, listen. You can’t just take my friend and expect to get away with it!”

Nothing came.

“Are you listening to me?” he screamed.

The voice that answered seemed strange and otherworldly. It seemed pre-recorded.

“Yep, bud, I hear ya loud and clear!” It was a cartoon voice. And then another voice and a different voice each with different responses and in between these responses were static lulls.

Max seemed confused and yet terrified. It began increasing in volume, endless voices of weird and cartoonish people all screaming rapidly.

Again silence came. Then a real response.

“What do you think your plan is?”

“What?” Max said.

“What do you expect to accomplish, by speaking to me?” The voice was cold and deep. It was full of dread and madness. The voice was masculine but would crack and wheeze every other sentence.

“I expect an answer,” Max cleverly answered.

Not caring for his response the voice asked, “Are you afraid of dying?”

This dug deep into Max’s heart. “No.”

“You are lying,” he said nonchalantly.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because everyone is afraid of dying. Even me. If a man says he isn’t, he is surely lying.”

“I’m not like most men,” Max said proudly.

“You’re right, you’re a boy! A foolish boy who is afraid of dying just like everyone else and who is cowering away in his little bedroom right now instead of reality.” That cut into his pride like a knife as the voice twisted the handle.

“Come out and play, little Maxy,” the voice said taunting him.

“Where is she?” Max demanded.

“Come out and enter the elevator, there you’ll find what you're looking for.” The phone call cut out and only the stinging sound remained leaving Max full of fright.