Alice Nakamura was just happy to get away from the city for a weekend. 

It wasn’t an unusual desire or anything, but instead part of a longstanding tradition. When things got too stressful at work, or personal drama threatened to tow her under, Alice would pack up her gear and make for a decently secluded section of forest. She’d camp for a couple of days and return to Anchorage; hopefully with a new, happier perspective on her life. 

So, nothing unusual happened when she let people know she’d be out of contact for the weekend again and set out in her pick-up truck. 

She’d picked an early time to leave. The roads were nearly open and the sun hadn’t quite risen at the moment, but that was fine. Alice had been wanting to get away from everything for most of the week, and every moment away from the tall tree and quiet nature of Alaska’s national forests was another she spent unnecessarily dwelling on every bad encounter she’d had over the past few days.

 

This was the second week in a row where she’d disappeared into the woods for the weekend. Alice fully expected her friends to give her shit about vanishing again, but she really, really needed the peace and quiet—someone was liable to get hurt if she didn’t. 

Sighing, she turned on the radio to try and drown out the intrusive thoughts, purposefully relaxing into the somewhat-oversized front seat of her truck. Soft rock and roll emerged from tinny speakers.

It was a pretty large truck. Personally, Alice would have preferred to get a much smaller car, something with better gas mileage, something that didn’t leave her feeling like a child in a grown-up’s world. Every time she peered through the windscreen, Alice felt like the dashboard was drowning her little by little. She’d bought the truck in order to try and fit in. There were already too many ways for people to exclude her, and she hadn’t wanted her choice in a vehicle to be yet another of them. All her co-workers drove trucks. She lived in Alaska, half the vehicles on the road were massive, noisy trucks.  

And sure, Alice would have been more comfortable in a smaller car. Like, full stop. 

But, these weekend excursions had given her some appreciation for the value of really big tires and offroading capabilities. She hoped she wasn’t turning into some sort of car-themed size queen.

Trying to fit in is what made me so mad, though, Alice thought to herself, even while knowing it was because she didn't fit in. It kept sending her to the woods, where the trees certainly wouldn’t judge anybody. Alone, with her thoughts. 

 

Eventually, the roads of Anchorage thinned out into smaller streets, the occasional building dotting the landscape here and there, and it turned to a dirt and dust path after taking a turn between the trees, civilization vanishing into faux-wilderness. The path still marked the tamed nature of this section of forest, frequented by backpackers and tourists who wanted to experience the ‘Alaskan Wilderness’ for themselves. Alice had used this particular path many times in the past few years, and knew that the initial trail wasn’t even part of Chugach; the closest national forest and state park. No, those were further east, and she was heading in that direction. It just required traveling through the more common trailheads on the way. 

And, yeah, there were easier ways to get there, on actual, paved roads and the like, but Alice didn’t really feel like using those. It didn’t feel like an adventure. So she stuck to the backroads, content to spend a few hours rumbling through a forest close enough to touch. 

 

Until the path ended, of course, marking the stopping point. 

There was a bit of bare ground just off the path perfect for parking a car, though. Nobody except Alice usually came this far up the dirt road, preferring to make their way onto one of the side trails. She was pretty sure the park rangers used the road itself more often during the weekdays—she’d seen their trucks a couple of times over the weekends spent camping. 

Point being, her truck would be safe enough where it sat, and she doubted anyone would do anything to it over the next few days. She did, however, leave a note on the dash stating that she was off camping in the woods over the weekend. Wouldn’t do for some enterprising soul to call a search party over it. 

Grabbing her supplies out of the back was difficult as always. Alice was fairly short, and the truck bed was fairly high up. Clambering up onto it in order to grab her tent always ended up being a bit of a hit to her dignity. Hopping down from it also hurt her knees a little, and she winced while walking around the right side of the truck, grabbing her backpack of supplies from atop the passenger seat. A few moments work saw the backpack securely fastened around her torso, the tent slung near her hips. It was a lot of weight, but nothing that Alice hadn’t handled before. Her work as an electrician had already hardened her body a good bit, and these weekend trips even more so. 

 

Chugach was a beautiful area to hike. It wasn’t hard to see what drew so many tourists to Anchorage, with so much natural land sitting just outside it. Rocky, mountainous areas lay bare of anything larger than particularly lively shrubs, while clumps of dense woodland grew in the shadows of steep mountains, next to the many rivers and small lakes forming the lifeblood of Chugach. Words could truly never do justice to the clear waters and solemn landscapes. The peace and timelessness. 

Alice was thankful for the July weather. While night tended to flirt with freezing temperatures, the days were quite nice. Warm enough to shuck off her windbreaker and the fleece underneath, leaving her in a black tank-top. The breeze left gooseflesh on her arms and she was soon warmed again by the hike, some sweat beading at her hairline. 

She enjoyed the exertion. Challenging her own body. There wasn’t anyone around to tell her why she couldn’t, so she had fun finding out if she could. 

 

Scrambling over a particular craggy section of rock brought Alice right next to a small, burbling stream. She knew from experience that it would go dry during the winter, frozen waters only reaching down from the mountaintops in creeping, frostbitten fingers. For now, the landscape presented an idyllic view of nature, abounding with formidable life. Lots of bugs, too, but that was just part of the experience.   

She breathed in greedily, knowing she’d miss the scent of loamy soil and wet greenery when the time came, though the hoary landscape of winter held its own brand of charm. Alice enjoyed the snow, even if she didn’t like the freezing her tits off part.

Following the stream upriver led to another section of dense forest, maybe five or six acres worth of hardy Sitka spruce and hemlock trees. Perfect. Alice had camped here before, and it was one of her favorite spots to frequent. The trees formed a nice windbreak for her tent, which shouldn’t be set up in the copse itself. Instead, she pitched it in the grass and moss encircling the area, easily anchoring the waterproof cloth and heading into the trees with her supplies, a hatchet, and a length of rope. 

See, bears were a constant concern in Alaska. They were friendly enough in most circumstances, and generally left people alone. Well, unless they felt threatened, or you got between them and food. So, leaving supplies in the same tent you sleep in was, is, and will always be a really, really stupid idea. Bears have good noses, and don’t care about needing to go through a person to get to food. 

Bears were the reason Alice initially bought a gun; just an old military surplus pistol she’d only shot at a range so far. Additionally, she always had bear spray handy while camping. Also unused on any actual bears, thankfully enough. She’d seen a number of them over the past few years, but none ever really came close enough to bother her. 

Walking in the copse was a little challenging. There was a lot of debris underfoot from rotting logs and years of biological build-up, and a number of slippery patches of ground. Eventually, she came to the perfect tree. Tall, with good, thick branches spanning out from the main trunk.   

Alice removed her lunch, sleeping bag, and unread novel from the backpack, gathered up her rope, and returned everything else to the waterproof, scent-blocking interior. Looking around, she spotted a small rock and picked it up, tying it to the end of the rope. Swinging it in her hand for a moment, Alice eyed up a particular branch about twenty feet up. She swung the rope and the rock and watched it arc up and fall short of the branch. Shrugging, Alice reeled it in and swung again, this time sending the rope up and over the branch, letting it play out until the rock hit the ground on the other side. Smirking at it only taking two tries, Alice walked over and untied the rock from the rope, wrapping it around a carabiner instead. She clipped the carabiner to her backpack and hauled on the other side of the rope, sending her supplies up into the trees. She tied the end of the rope to a nearby set of roots, satisfied when nothing came crashing back down to earth. It was safe from any wandering bears now.

And, importantly, a decent distance from her camp. It was a bit of a trek making it back to the tent, made longer when Alice took out a small hatchet and started hacking up bits of deadwood on the way. She’d gathered a decent arm-full by the time the tent came back into sight. She dumped the wood and sat down for a moment’s rest. Alice ate her sandwich. It was a brioche bun with provolone cheese, roast beef, peppers, lettuce, and olives in it. It was her favorite lunch. She wiped crumbs off with the back of her hand and relaxed. Read a chapter or two of the book she’d brought along. It was a rather lurid lesbian romance book, the latest in a favored series of hers. The dialogue was unironically pretty good.

Alice had thought about becoming a writer during highschool, before realizing that going into the trades paid more. She’d initially gone to trade school to learn how to weld. Some cousins from her father’s side were doing pretty well as welders, though the one working oil rigs had lost a few fingers, last she heard. From a lawnmower accident. 

Regardless, somehow welding had turned into electrician’s work. She was going on five years now with the lineman’s union, and the social aspects of the job hadn’t gotten any easier. It was a large factor in her constant weekend trips away from humanity. 

Ironically enough, Alice was a bit of an outsider. 

Never mind that both sides of her family had been in Alaska for at least three generations now—and much longer in the case of her father’s ancestors. Half-Japanese and half-Athabascan but people only cared that she wasn’t white or male. It was a frustrating and annoyingly subtle discrimination. 

Hence why she so often vanished into the Alaskan wilderness. Lest, ahh…regrettable actions be taken. There was only so much condescension a person could take, after all. 

So she created her own peaceful moments. If other people are the problem, go somewhere without any others. Relax and enjoy nature as her forefathers had. 

 

A few hours passed and Alice bookmarked her reading to gather more wood. The sun was still out, but that was typical for Alaskan summers. In July, she would have about two or three hours of twilight before the sun rose again, making it somewhat more difficult to tell time. The drop in temperature still signaled that it was time to light a fire, though. The deadwood gathered earlier would make for a good base, but more fuel was needed. It was an hour’s work to cut up enough to last till she went to sleep, and soon enough Alice had a merrily crackling fire by her tent, in a little depression she’d used for this very purpose before. 

Dinner time came around and she pulled down her backpack to nab a can of lentil soup and a small pot to heat it in, rigging the thing up above her fire and heartily eating once it was done. The pot went back into her hanging pack along with any garbage, and she returned to camp. Alice finished her raunchy book soon after and performed some nightly ablutions before tucking in for some rest, ignoring the daylight still glaring outside her tent with the air of a seasoned Alaskan.

Her dreams were…not normal, but also not anything worrying. Alice woke up remembering running from something. It left her feeling tense. Something felt off with the day. Bird calls were coming from outside her tent, and Alice poked her head out. Something had riled up the native wildlife, there were hawks and flocks of smaller birds wheeling about the sky in an obvious panic. 

Sucking in a breath, Alice unholstered her pistol, palmed her bear spray, and left the tent. She looked around. 

No bears. No moose. Nothing larger than the rabbit she could see dashing across open ground as if hell was opening up after it.  

 

There wasn’t anything. 

Just a bunch of birds.

 

It was bizarre. But Alice was hungry, and her food waited fifteen feet up and a hundred and twenty feet away. 

It was as she took down the hanging backpack that Alice realized the second oddity. 

There weren’t any insects buzzing around. Normally mosquitos formed a pretty visible haze during the Alaskan summers, but now there was nothing. No mosquitos, no chittering of larger insects, no flies to smack against her face like annoying and persistent idiots. 

If the birds' behavior disturbed Alice, the absence of insects alarmed her. It hit the lizard part of her brain pretty hard, and clearly indicated that something was wrong. 

Sucking in a deep breath, Alice collected her supplies. She looped the rope over her shoulder and threw her backpack on. She set a quick pace back to camp, leaping over branches and shrubbery with no acknowledgement towards how the movement stole her breath away. Her pack bounced along her back, banging painfully and letting her know something hadn’t been properly put away. Or she hadn’t secured the backpack quite so well in her haste. 

It didn’t matter, Alice didn’t stop as she blazed into the campsite and rolled up the sleeping bag, shoving it into the backpack without a care for placement. It’d make the hike back to the truck hell on her back, but she just wanted to get out of there, quickly. 

The tent came down faster than ever, collapsing into a form small enough to fit into the loops on the bottom of the backpack. Finally, Alice placed her book at the top of the pack and sealed it all up, slinging it up across her back and securing the front buckles. She looked around, one last check to make sure nothing was forgotten. Even the birds had gone to ground by this point. Alice took this as the bad sign it probably was. Her Athabascan ancestors could probably tell her exactly what they were running from. Without specific knowledge, Alice just wanted to get out of there, preferably ten minutes ago. 

Her gun rested in its holster on her belt, the sheathed hatchet opposite it. Her pack was secure, camp broken up, and she was ready to go.

 

Alice didn’t quite run away from the copse of trees, but she certainly set a brisk pace, her legs burning before it had even fallen out of sight behind her.

Something behind her roared. 

In a moment that defied instinct or common sense, Alice twisted around, sliding to a stop and wincing as her backpack tried to tip her over.
It hadn’t sounded like a bear. Too loud, too rumbly. She’d felt it in her gut. 

The ground started shaking slightly. 

Alice crouched down, a hand making contact with the grassy ground. 

 

It stopped. 

Everything felt still. 

Alice remained crouched, wary of the silence. 

 

It came suddenly.

Something passed through her. Like a pressure wave that didn’t actually exist. Her skin immediately pebbled, every hair on her body shooting upright. A small gasp fell from her mouth. Ice had been poured down her back, and though the world looked the same, something had changed. She knew that to her bones. 

 

A breath passed. Two. Alice didn’t move. Her hair remained on end, and instinct sang through her veins. Flowery words to describe the warnings blaring through her mind. 

The rumbling returned. Alice crouched lower. Her knees touched the shuddering ground. Something tickled her palm. Alice looked down. The grass was wrapping around her hand. She shrieked and backpedaled, ending up on her ass, scurrying away from grabby grass.

Yeah, something was seriously, very wrong. 

Creaking, cracking noises started coming from the copse, and Alice watched as the trees she’d spent the night beside started swaying violently. She could see movement between them. She retreated to a section of bare rock. The small stream lashed violently against it, the shaking ground intensifying. For a moment—a heartstopping, frightening second—Alice swore she saw faces staring back at her from under the sloshing water. She couldn’t quite convince herself it was imagined. 

The shaking got still worse. 

The world must be coming apart at the seams, thought Alice. It felt like it. 

Alaska got frequent earthquakes. 

Alice knew what earthquakes felt like. A rolling from deep in the earth, the shakes coming from below. 

This isn’t an earthquake, she decided. She could feel the air vibrating. Reality itself. 

Something was breaking and Alice didn’t know if it would be better in the city or out in the wilderness, alone like she was. 

Her teeth were chattering and atoms grinding together when it happened. 

 

The sky split. 

Not once, or twice, but like innumerable eyes opened onto alien landscapes and peoples. Alice saw a world of marble and glass burning, statutes running for their lives. Multi-armed and rainbow hued people walking through a maddeningly normal street, eight-limbed dog walking at the end of a leash. A lone figure in a tower, flame-that-wasn't above their finger. A woman with three faces, doors all around her, open to other three-faced woman. Unassailable walls, a rocking horse. A shape, flickering through realities; square then triangle then inky night then a whale of tuna then a single eye with world within. Visions assailed Alice. She saw the world as a god must, all at once. Eons and microseconds passing in an instant as the molten mass of star-dust cooled, sometimes never changed, experienced a hundred thousand instances of history at once, moon forming or missing, dinosaurs evolving and sometimes falling even without the help of asteroids, other species filling in gaps meant for humanity, surely meant for Alice’s civilization. An occasional spread to the stars, plagues and panaceas released into the universe, the sun swallowing everything and returning all to star-dust once more. Conquerors and heroes and cells eating cells to become bigger cells and crabs, so many crabs. One saw her and spoke. 

She felt

Small

 

Something snapped. 

 

The world buckled and collapsed upon itself only to regrow and break again. Parts of other realities fell through the cracks. Earth was the lowest point and stuff of other histories rushed in to fill it. 

Alice still stood atop heaving stone and it was a turtle shell the next moment, a crystal the next, and gnarled wood a second later. It decided to be a stone after all, the mind atop it having shaped it so, last reality thought to check. 

The area around the stone decided to be someplace else. A particular ruined history appealed to Chugach, and it pulled through the fallen memories wholesale. Then Chugach decided it needed more trees, the ground felt too warm. It liked the cold, remembered it best. More alterations took place. Chugach fell to sleep once more, satiated and hoping the humans liked it in the alien way that land loves a people who loves it. 

Alice fell back upon the stone, eyes wide and sightless despite seeing eternity. A bit of drool fell from her mouth. The rock cradled her.

The sun fell. 

 

Sanity reasserted itself elsewhere. 

Alice’s brain finally shut off, falling to true unconsciousness.