“Wonderland” isn’t all sunshine and rainbows. There’s no forests, no fields of flowers, and no blue sky. It’s cold and wet. Raindrops constantly drip from awnings. Puddles run together in the street, illuminated by flickering neon lights. There’s a persistent, sickeningly sweet scent that never seems to fade from the air. Curiouser and curiouser.

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The light mist in the air clings to me like a second skin as I gawk at my surroundings. If I have to guess, I’m standing in some kind of futuristic backstreet. Discarded electronics are scattered across the ground, broken glass surrounds equally broken neon signs written in a language I can’t comprehend. The humidity forms fog that makes the backstreet even more ominous. The faint sound of sirens far off doesn’t help ease my nerves either.

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Footsteps follow a rustling noise from somewhere around me. Then — more footsteps — and voices. I stare in their direction like a deer in headlights: eyes wide and body frozen. My fingers twitch as the sounds grow louder and a group of masked figures round the corner. One of them shouts in alarm at my presence, spurring my body to move. Stumbling over my feet, I bolt down the street as quickly as my legs can carry me. I have no clue where I am or where I’m going, only away from anything and anyone that could be dangerous. I can hear the echoing of heavy and rapid footsteps following at a close pace.

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Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

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Curses run through my head as I stumble through back alleys, trying not to trip over loose objects on the ground. I can still hear my pursuers behind me. What the hell am I supposed to do? The alley opens into a narrow backstreet, like the one I found myself in moments ago. I pause for just a moment to catch my breath. As I do, I look around in search of a place to hide.

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“You look lost, girly.”

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I whip my head to the right, scrambling away from the source of the filtered voice. Each word crackles like it came through a semi-functional speaker. Not far from me sits a tall figure. They’re mostly cloaked in shadow but, from what I can see, they lean against some kind of motorbike I have never seen before. The bike is embedded with neon lights that pulse and glow against the darkness. Its design is sleek: every part curving and flowing into one another in a way that only barely resembled the motorbikes that I’m accustomed to. It looks like something straight out of a science fiction movie. In any other situation, I’d probably find the bike really cool but with the current situation, it and its rider terrify me to my core.

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A pair of neon pink LED eyes stare at me out of the darkness. The figure tilts their head, the LEDs shifting as they look me over. A neon sign behind them flickers and I can faintly make out the bulky outline of a helmet with two pointed bits on the top that resemble a cat’s ears. The pink light diffuses on the matte material of their helmet and the reflective material of their jacket.

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Voices from the group of people pursuing me grow louder. My head darts back and forth between the noise and the figure watching me. They chuckle, their laugh passing through some sort of filter before reaching my ears. I try to will my feet to move to no avail. I’m trapped with nowhere to go. Shit!

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The sound of the bike starting catches my attention and I watch as the figure mounts the vehicle. A low whirring sound echoes off of the buildings, emanating. It reminds me of a computer booting up with its electronic whirring. The figure looks toward me again, holding out a hand.

 

“You coming?”

 

I stare at the outstretched hand. Every cell in my body feels on edge, telling me this is dangerous. This person is dangerous, and I shouldn’t trust them. It’s only now that I notice the sharp-toothed grin crudely painted on the helmet, stretching impossibly wide across the surface. My skin crawls; the hair on the back of my neck stands up.

 

“C’mon, I’m offering you a ride. Trust me, you don’t want to find out what’ll happen if those guys find you.”

 

Their words echo through my head. They’re right. I have to pick the better of two evils. The question simply becomes which is the better option.

 

With a burst of confidence, I place my hand in theirs. There’s a strange surge of energy that rushes through me as they grip my hand tightly. The grin on their helmet defies logic and stretches even further under the flickering neon lights. They pull me closer to the bike and guide me to swing my leg over to sit behind them. I feel my arms being wrapped tightly around their waist. Revving the bike, an electronic whir echoes off the buildings around us. A shout from behind us hits my ears as the bike speeds off into the neon glow of the main thoroughfare.