“It’s really not that difficult - just get on the bus and get here. I’ll pick you up at the station.”
“Oh, Carpenter…When the bus stops, don’t forget to get off of it.”
He did his part. He was off the bus and waiting to be picked up right where the Walrus told him to be. Or at least he was fairly sure he was in the correct spot. Certainty: 95%.
He flopped down onto one of the benches outside the building, crossing his arms. If he had to wait for the Walrus, it wouldn’t be the first time. His friend had a habit of going by his own schedule, often leaving the Carpenter in the dust. As the minutes ticked on, the redhead’s patience began fading. He shifted, resting his elbows on his knees, cheeks cupped in his hands. Certainty: 90%.
The sun set, filling the sky first with orange, followed by a deep, dark blue. The Carpenter now lay back on the bench, still waiting for the other fable to show up and explain his latest plan. He was going to drive up any second now, wasn’t he? He had to. There was no way the Walrus had just completely abandoned his buddy. Certainty: 80%.
The massive city’s lights illuminating the otherwise darkened streets snapped the man from his frustrated thoughts. For hours, the Carpenter had been wrapped up in being angry with the Walrus for seemingly leaving him behind on whatever grand adventure he had set off on. He had forgotten, until now, a casual comment from his flippered friend. Their destination was small. And where the fable found himself now? Quite the opposite. Certainty: 30%.
What was there to do now? Wait in front of the station until morning? The Carpenter didn’t have a watch on him, but he didn’t think the sun had set too terribly long ago. Walk, then? Walk and hope he found somewhere to spend the night? As much as he wanted to just curl up on the ground, even he thought that a bad idea. A long, low sigh spilled from the man as he stood and stretched, giving glances both ways down the street as if checking one last time for the Walrus. Still nothing. Obviously.
He took a left. And walked. And walked. And walked.
And then something caught his eye. A bright gold glint in the distance - part of a building set back from the road and surrounded by a rusting iron fence. The man slowed his pace - not that he had been walking particularly quickly before - to focus on the cracked brick. The crumbling steps. The doors and the gleaming golden doorknob affixed to the one on the right. He knew that doorknob. He knew it and he knew what it meant. Home.
A few moments of convincing the building’s “security guard” he truly was who he said he was and the Carpenter found himself in the halls of Wonderland’s apartment complex, a number rattling about in his mind. He quickly skipped up the winding staircases, previous exhaustion momentarily gone. The old stairs creaked underfoot, announcing the newcomer’s arrival to anyone who cared to listen. Before long, though part of him wanted to explore the building some, he came to the door he had been instructed to find. 334. Alice’s room.
Several knocks and several minutes later, the Carpenter sat on the floor in front of the woman’s room. It was clear she wasn’t home. But he could wait. He’d done hours of waiting already that day. What was another few moments? Unfortunately for the fable, the tiredness he had pushed away only a bit earlier returned tenfold. He could stay awake though, right?
Wrong.
