Christina Henry - "Alice"

Interesting 'sequel' to Alice in Wonderland, where Alice and "the Hatcher" escape from a mental asylum, only to end up in the old city.  Abuse, mutilation, rape, their world is grim. 

Really well told.

    Hatcher nodded. "Yes, I told you. I can't go back there. I can't abide the thought of four walls closing around me again. And they would separate us, Alice. No more comfort through the mouse hole.  They would keep us apart, and I can't bear the thought of that any more than being trapped. So I'll sure, if there is no other way out, that I still have a way out. And I can do it for you too."
    She knew what he offered. He would kill her first, with the gun or the knife or his fists if he had to, and make certain she was never trapped in that cage again. From another man this might be terrifying, that he would so blithely consider murdering his companion. But she understood that from Hatcher this was tantamount to an offer of marriage. This was what he could do for her, how he showed he cared.

    "The knife for the Jabberwocky," she said. "The Magician's knife."
    Hatcher looked from Alice to the Rabbit. "That was the knife you used on his eye."
    She nodded.
    "What happened to it?"
    "I threw it in the river," she said. "It melted."
    The Rabbit stared at her. "You threw a priceless Magician's artifact into the stinking river?"
    "Yes," Alice said, "And now the Jabberwocky rampages through the City, and only the blade could stop him."
    The Rabbit threw his head back again, and mirthless laughter poured forth. "Then it matters not if you will have mercy on me, for we are all dead."

William Gibson - "Count Zero"

third book in the Neuromancer trilogy.

Gautam Bhatia - "The Wall"

A city eternally encircled by a Wall.  Something the Builders did to punish or protect?

It was okay. I didn't get into the hallucinatory parts. Ending was nice because it never gave an answer.

Samanta Schweblin - "Fever Dream"

Indeed feverish, a long dialogue between an old woman (not his mother) and a boy (not her son) about souls switching bodies to avoid dying...??

    Why does she do that?
    It's a routine she's gotten into here. She runs two or three times around the house at every lunch.
    This is important. This could have to do with the worms.
    When Nina passes the kitchen window, she presses her face against the glass and we smile at each other. I like her burst of energy, but this time her running makes me anxious. My conversation with Carla pulled the rope that ties me to my daughter even tighter, and the rescue distance is shorter again. How different are you now from the David of six years ago? What did you do that was so terrible your own mother no longer accepts you as hers? These are the things I can't stop wondering about.
    But they aren't the important things.

    What's happening with the rescue distance?
    Everything is fine.
    No.
    She's frowning.
    "Are you okay, Nina?" I ask her.
    She smells her hands.
    "It's really gross," she says.
    Carla comes out of the house, finally.
    Carla isn't important.
    But I walk over to her. I think I'm still trying to dissuade her from the walk.
    Don't leave Nina alone. It's happening right now!
    Carla comes over, carrying her bag and smiling.
    Don't get distracted.
    I can't choose what happens next, David. I can't turn back towards Nine
    It's happening.
    What is, David? My God, what is happening?
    The worms.
    No, please.

    His face was red, his eyes swollen from so much crying. He was digging up dirt with his plastic shovel. Its broken handle was lying on the ground to one side, and now he was digging with only the spoon part of the shovel, which was only slightly bigger than his hand. The duck lay to one side. Its eyes were open, and stretched out like that on the ground, its neck seemed longer and more flexible than normal. I tried to figure out what had happened, but at no point did David look up.
    I want to show you something.
    I'm the one who decides what to focus on in the story now, David. Doesn't what your mother is telling me strike you as important?
    No.