MxF We Of Wonderland - The Forgotten Children

[Lighthouse]

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Foreword​

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Basically the Basics
Story above all else.
Multi-Character/Novella style poster.
Multi Genre/Mixed themes.
It is rare to find my limits.
Male writer.

Your lines will always be respected.
(Some worry over this since I have so few)​

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We Of Wonderland
-[Themes]-

Violence, Supernatural, Good people making not-so-good choices, Horror.

-[Requirements]-

A character with the last name Laice.​

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Setting

It is a cooler climate than most would want to live in.

Even in summer a jacket would be advised for when the sun dips below the timberline.
Bears and other predatory creatures feast upon deer, elk, and the vast amount of prey species here in the pine forests.

It takes a certain quirk in a personality to come to a place like this.
Reception of all kinds is spotty, and could go down for over a week.
Groceries most of the time had to be special ordered, and Amazon (even with Prime) laughed if you put in the address.

However, to some, isolation was the point.

People who were running from someone...
People who were running from themselves...
People who were running from their past...

It was the final stop.
It was a place at last where there was no more room to run.

It was an Edge of the Earth.

Welcome to Koda Lake Alaska.
Population: 227
​

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-Part One-
The Knave and The Bandersnatch

"But it's no use now,"
thought poor Alice,
"to pretend to be two people! Why, there's hardly enough of me left to make one respectable person!"
—Chapter 1, Down the Rabbit-Hole​

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The residents of areas like this, long ago, had grown accustomed to the word 'flooding'. It was to be expected this time of year. It was after all the season for such things as ice, snow, and reminders of winter to melt. Added to the typical cycle to which nature brought this year was the unseasonably warm weather pushed by thick bands of rain. Koda lake for three days had been nothing more than a static blur or water striking against windows, the drum roll of thunder, and the occasional crack of lighting. The nasty bloated clouds of unusual storm seemed to have found their little town, parked itself over it, and unload a slow anger till every last droplet of moisture was squeezed from out.

As quickly and restlessly as it had settled over the area, so too did it end. No final gust of wind to batter against the houses, and no crumbling crash of lightning piercing through the flesh of another splintering pine. It suddenly grew silent, calm, and the dawn soon managed to peek upon the horizon onto a grey morning.

What Joseph Harts found though was that even if the people of Koda Lake were used to flooding, this seemed a new breed of the word.

Typically the water wanted to rush out from its most gathered source.
Like a bursting bubble, the Lake would overflow out like a living thing hungry for more space.
It would eat away shores, push up against houses (that were already designed to be off the ground) defenses, and close at least one of the three roads into the area.
The east side of the lake was particularly known for that nasty habit, and was thus the least populated edge of their little isolated civilization.

This though?

It was as if the Lake itself had become cancerous.
Seemingly random deep tendrils of black flood extended out from the body of water to find not just one of their ways in or out, but all three of them.
And yet, despite this situation which seemed to break the pattern, or at least the pattern to which Joseph had seen for three years, not a single home had been damaged.

Floods should be indiscriminate, destructive, and sudden.
Though he had moved here only a few years ago and thus didn't have the knowledge of 'Old Timers', this felt different in his gut.
It wasn't 'isolation' that pushed at the corner of his mind, it was the feeling of being trapped.

Maybe that seed of a fear, that suddenly was there, was the reason Joseph (Never Joe) dared himself to start to wade into the water.
People of the Lake often were stubborn like that, another common though not defining trait of the people pushed to the edge of the earth... at times they would push back.

It would be useful to know if the bridge just around the bend there was still standing, even if that notion was unlikely.
That logical notion added to the choir of reasons why it made sense to do such a thing.

The weather had cleared and the stillness of the water had convinced him.
It was almost like the quiet of the forest whispered something only he could hear.

These things should have alarmed the man, but it wasn't speaking to Chief Harts.
The water spoke to Joseph, the man behind the badge.

There is a kind of magic that humanity knows of, but doesn't often speak of.
A set of words which could spike into another's soul, and burrow deep into the corner recesses of an ego.
These days such powerful magics have been reduced to 'Do it or you're a bitch', but nonetheless it is the spell of binding.
Even more so was the strength of it when it was one's own mind doing the casting.

At first Joseph had tried to look into the water, but the black flood water only gave a reflection of himself and the sky above.
There was no real way to know what was beneath, but foolishly forward he went all the same.
With careful setting of footing at least, the man of law had already found himself up to his knees in the flood.
Thick boots ( not so watertight boots in these conditions) took one final cautiously planned step along the hard concrete surface of the road somewhere below him.
Or at least, he hoped it was the road and he wasn't about to trip into a deeper section. So far so good at least.
All he had to go on was the feeling of the structure below him, the gritted unshifting surface his steps took hold of, but at this point he should be able to see the supports of the bridge.

Not even a jagged pole, or bit of cord as thick as his arm sticking out of the surface up ahead.
Simply black still water reflecting the sky and tree line nearby.
Almost a perfect silent mirror having swallowed him right up to his knees extending off to a distance that once had been dry land.

At the height of six feet tall, an inch shorter without thick boots, the brown haired and thick bearded man cut an imposing figure of authority in normal circumstances.
Chief Harts (Don't forget that S) even had a voice that could offer commands in a Grizzly Bear Bellow, that seemed tailor made for a job like this.
Though after pulling from his pocket that phone, and seeing that 'Fuck you no service' symbol blinking at the top of the screen, the man didn't feel very much in control of anything.

Caged was a better word for this feeling.

Out here, the word Police didn't mean the same thing as one would find in a city.
They were part ambulance, animal control, and basically anything to do with 'Oh shit situations'.
And to call the sum of them a 'Force' would be misleading.
Under his command were two other officers and an elderly lady named Norma.

The other two officers Joseph oversaw were good at their jobs, and both had their own reasons to be here.
They never talked about it, at least with him, but as Chief he had access to their files.
Boss or not, the man always did like to know who he was working with.
And about Norma? Well, Joseph knew just enough to understand it was not wise to piss her off.
Best to stay on that Old Timer's sweet side.

Walking through this mess of a situation, the man had been careful to keep belt, holster, tools of trade clear of the water, and so his radio was undamaged.
Valleys, trees, mountains, and life up here had a way to make even these devices unpredictable in their static, but it was still worth a shot.
Though, if the cell tower (aka 'The Tower of Never Working') was still functioning, he would just place a call.
Never Working Tower had that title for a reason it would seem... five times in a few months truth be told.

Static from him turning the police frequencies radio on broke the silence of the world, and the sudden noise seemed to echo out across the Lake itself.
The sudden intrusion of it was quickly silenced, as the Chief pushed the button to speak, and what little hope any would hear was in the tone of his words.
"This is Harts, the route six bridge is completely gone from the looks of it."

The man turned the volume down, so when the button released it was not a gunshot of noise, but rather a whisper..
ssssssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhh
...of static.

Two words, just there on the edge of that crinkling paper like noise.
Just two little words on the fog of interference that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.
And though he could not be sure who it was through the distorting ssshhhh, Joseph could swear he recognized that voice.

SSSssshhhhhhhhh-hear-shhhh-you-ssssshhhhhh

Something to the right moved beneath the water the moment that voice over the radio spoke.
Not swam, no no no. Not that word. Look at the ripples, the pattern.
Something slithered just below the surface.
Something half the size of Joseph moved towards him just on the underside of the mirror like water.

Instinct took over in a flash, radio was silenced by being switched off, and replaced into that belt in a single smooth motion.
Standard issue handgun, unsecured from its strap with a pop of that metallic clasping button, now rested in his hands.
Chambered, ready, and aimed the weight of the weapon was at least some what reassuring.
With that blind circle of muzzle pointed towards the distortions in the water, Joseph held his breath as what ever it was suddenly stopped moving.

Has the thing gone under?
Had it turned away?

A large curious fish may be pushed out by the flood?
An eel...
A big fucking eel of some sort?
Nah, just some trapped air, yeah that's it.

Chief Harts didn't necessarily want to know the real answer, and simply began the process of getting the hell out of there.
The man had already started his back tracking, which just by chance led him away from the thing that had moved.

And you best believe it wasn't till he was almost back to his car, and out of the water, that the pistol went back into the holster.

For several long moments the man stood beside the vehicle with his hand pressed steadily on the roof.
Deep breaths were negotiated from his body, as the man's mind still reeled with the sudden spike of adrenaline it had experienced.

It was just a trick of your mind you fucking coward.
Calm down.
Breath.
Static spooked you like a kiddie at a movie.

Joseph tried to focus, to calm the thump-thump of heavy heartbeat.
Think of only things that are in the moment, a head-shrinker once told him about panic attacks.
So he did, and the Chief quieted his mind to the sensation on his pant legs dripping, and the not so cold water in his boots.

The man suddenly froze in place.
Not literally but rather figuratively.

That was the problem.

He should have only been able to take a few steps into snow and ice melted water before his jaw would start to chatter.
What even now clung to him though was no more tepid than a bath when the pilot light was out.
Wasn't exactly warm, just a slight chill in it.

His dark brown eyes swiveled towards the black flood waters one last time, expecting a slithering motion, but found only the stillness.
What was out, waiting for him to see, was only the quiet way the world seemed to have hushed itself.
That feeling persisted.
That sensation was undeniable.
The soundless echo of anticipation was ringing at the back of his skull.

Joseph opened the driver side door and swung himself inside despite pant legs still dripping wet.
In the very least, everything was familiar here, and everything made sense as it should.

Feeling colder now than before, the heat was turned on with the excuse of drying off his boots, but even that didn't stop a slight shake in his hand as the man turned on the radio unit built into the car.
A quiet soothing hush of...
sssshhhhhhh
...filled his ears.

No words or ghostly ghouls rattling chains.
No monsters creeping up out of the water.
Only the white noise on the radio to hear and the quiet world beyond to watch.

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-Part Two-
The Knave, Norma, and the Uninvited Guest.

Alice replied, rather shyly,
"I—I hardly know, Sir, just at present—at least I know who I was when I got up this morning,
but I think I must have been changed several times since then."
—Chapter 5, Advice from a Caterpillar
​

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Around Lake Koda one didn't say 'Older Timer' and not think of Norma first.
Having been a resident here since, well since anyone can remember, there were a hundred fables that tell of this bobcat of a woman.

She had been village elder, town leader, midwife, grief councilor, a fierce protector, fire fighter, and so many other titles.
Nor were these acts one time things.
The woman seemed tireless and without hesitation to switch hats for the community.

In his 'short' (by Norma's standards) stay among them, Joseph had seen her stare down the local priest and bully the mayor into submission.
Though there was no evidence to support such a claim to Norma's guilt, or none that the Chief had, there had even been a famous writer incident as well.

When Joseph asked Norma if she knew anything about the change, as the local authorities had been notified they the writer would be there for at least a month, there was a dry wry smile on her lips.
With almost a childish delight of victory she stated...
"Writers inspire."
What she meant though was...
'We didn't need him to inspire others to come here.'

Joseph never did find out how she pulled that one off.
The hubbub of the Author (whos works was being adapted into movie theaters) just came and than went within the span of three days.
Not even one reporter dared to make the trip out there to put a footnote in their story, but one little thing did make it through.
The Man, who wrote such books as 'American's Fairy Tale' and 'Dead by Moonlight' only briefly mentioned as to having a dislike for Alaska while on some late night talk show.

The Chief suspected that tiny blurb was just fine with Norma, and no doubt the Old Timer would have retorted with 'Alaska feels the same about foolish dime rack pulp authors'.

Having parked his car, after half floating the vehicle across a section of road to return here, Joseph in his still wet boots came across Norma leaning against the garage side entrance. The building itself was defined in government documents as a police station, but it was more of a crudely made, cheaply built, though sturdily crafted structure retrofitted to their purposes. One could always tell 'Mama Bear' was on a smoke break by the sudden and billowing clouds of exhales drifting up around the corner like a released genie, and today a whole nation of wish granters seemed to be released by the frustrated puffing of the woman.

Norma's voice rang out in the morning, and even with decades of smoking, her lungs seemed no less powerful.
"We're on our own again."
Small drifts of remaining tobacco smoke in her lungs curling on the words like a ghosts echo.

It was one of those Lake sayings.
So frequently did the tower go down, and the area itself seem to eat any radio signal, that such a phrase explained it all.
A common trope of living here, and one that Joseph never in truth liked.

For the second time today, the Chief scratched the back of his neck in phantom response before responding.
"The bridge is out. Any word from the other two?"
The other two being the officers under his command.

She may be a guardian to this place known as Koda Lake, even compassionate at times, but there was always something stone hard about Norma. It was in the sudden way that she could look at you, turning those red age rimmed eyes in your direction as if simply measuring a prized hogs worth. It was as if she could weigh you right there on the spot. Even as Chief, Joseph was not exempt from these near demeaning looks Norma could hand out like party favors. Maybe It was from growing up in a place like this where looking out for each other saved lives. Perhaps it was from her experience in life, or that which drew the woman's family here to begin with.

Some people just carried with them a tough shell, and didn't really need an excuse.
So, Joseph chalked it up to being... well... Norma.

For a long second, that felt a dozen or so, the woman took another inhale from the stem of the cigarette before nodding agreement to some conversation inside of herself.
"Thing One is finishing up going door to door on the west side. So far everyone's accounted for."
Norma exhaled with no small amount of relief at her previous statement, smoke rolling from her nostrils like an angry dragon.
"Thing Two is with Doc over at the Minner's home. Kid broke his arm, what's his name? Scott? Nothing to do with the storm. Not even an emergency really."
A slight shake of her head, the next words not so subtly tinged with dislike for the man.
"Our fearless IV League educated doctor refused to drive his fancy car in all this."

Which of course meant assigning one of the officers, 'Thing Two' in this case, to play babysitter while there was a very real possibility someone out there needed them.
Why a man as prissy (Norma's word not Joseph's) as Doctor Lenard lives in such a remote location as this was anyone's guess, but despite the dislike of the physician, there was a budding respect.
This was going on year seven of Patrick Lenard's residency here at Koda Lake, and while nothing was ever good enough in this God Damned town, the patient always ended up getting better under his care.
Norma had to give the Doctor that.
Like the rest of them, Doc got the job done when it came down to it.

Yes, the Old Timer had to admit that, even if just to herself.

"Only seen it this bad when I was a youngin'. When I was fourteen or so."
She took a quick drag from the filter of her cigarette before continuing.
"I remember it because my da'h (That was 'Dad' to those uninitiated in Norma Speak) didn't let me out of the house for nearly two weeks."
A wistful look came over Norma.
"I was devastated. Madly in love with Tommy Erisen you see, (as if from a name alone one could conjure a handsome devil) and I thought going that long without telling him would kill me."

"Da'h called it a Culling Flood."
Eyes once perhaps the deepest shade of blue, had over the years lightened into a pale reminder of what they were once, but they remained just as gripping. Norma held Joseph in that weighing look again. The mention of her father instantly making the conversation important, and if the man wasn't paying attention, the words would be done right there and than. To the new Chief's credit, though Norma would have liked still a few more years on the man, Joseph was wise enough to be listening.

Norma herself was only about five nine, perhaps an inch shorter in the few passed years, and had a crown of shock white hair. Wrinkles, earned from tending to this place on the edge of the map, had long ago begun to catch up to her, and joints ached when snow was coming. To call her old? To suggest she retire? Well, none of the 'boys' on the job were looking to commit suicide, so such comments or suggestions never so much as passed their lips.

Just like Joseph saw, the others did as well.
There was something hard inside this woman, and it was so part of her that it looked out Norma's eyes sometimes.
At times it even looked right at you.

"All those things in dens, rabbits, behrs(Bears), snakes, all getting thawed out and half drowned as a wake up call."
A shake of her head as she turned her attention out across the street at the swollen lake that had shrunk the land by more than half.
"Some cubs aint going to make it, and that's going to make a Mama mad. Males are going to be pushed into new territory right up against each other."
Another drag of her cigarette.
"Make sure you carry the big stick (the shotgun), and don't have it loaded with scatter shot. Make sure you load the slugs. They say go big or go home, but here it's go big or get buried. Got it Chief?"

"Thanks Mah (Mom)."
The words shot out of Joseph's mouth before they registered in his mind, and instead of anger, Norma's face twisted into delight.

"About time you started talking like a local."
Her words, despite his best effort, did make Joseph smile.
Well, did temporarily make him smile, but it was short lived.

The world had been so still, so quiet, and every word seeming to reflect off the flood water, Norma and Joseph had forgotten about their surroundings.


"Pardon me... is there where I would report a crime?"
Almost in unison as that new and strangely almost British accented voice called out, both startled and turned sharp towards the strangely dressed man.

​

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Once Upon a Time...
...a servant was sent to hunt you down...
... a madman saved your life by accusing you of murder...
...and a princess took the throne from her mother.

​

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"Time is drowning,
Hearts are burning,
Heads are rolling,
Nothing can save you now,
Tick tock, tick tock;

Creatures talking,
Weak are rising,
White Queen's nearing,
Nothing can save you now,
Tick tock, tick tock;

Cards are bleeding,
Crowns are sweating,
Tea is spilling,
Nothing can save you now,
Tick tock, tick tock;

― Emory R. Frie
-Wonderland​