Breaker Whiskey

151 - One Hundred Fifty One


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[TRANSCRIPT]

[click, static] [a cacophony of beeps] [click]

Okay, okay, I get it, just stop. 

[click, static, beeps]

(sighing) This isn’t—this isn’t helpful. Maybe you can’t hear what I’m hearing, but two messages are coming in at once and as a result, I can’t hear a goddamn thing. A fox yapping and a bird chirping at the same time and I’m the fool trying to make sense of both of them. 

If you truly care for me to understand what you’re trying to tell me, then you can figure something else out, something that’s not…this. Meanwhile, I’m going to be doing my own goddamn investigating. 

I’m going to figure out how Leann lived. Surviving on your own, especially all the way up here, out here, and especially at her age…its no easy feat. Maybe she really was just proficient in survival because of her job, maybe that was enough, or maybe she wasn’t totally alone the whole time. Maybe the husband in the photos…maybe he was with her and died years ago. Maybe her daughters are still out there and have been gone from home for one reason or another. Maybe she had people to help her, people to rely on, people to…goddamn pass the time with. 

If she did, I’m going to find them. Even they are—even if they did eventually…

It matters that she’s dead. Of course it matters. I really, really wish that she wasn’t. But, dead or alive, she’s here. And that’s what matters. She’s existed in this strange after-world, right alongside Harry and I, without any of us realizing it. And as far as I can tell, the three of us have nothing in common beyond being women who are decently self-sufficient. Leann was born here, in North Dakota, and doesn’t seem to have traveled more than a few hundred miles from this general area her entire life. I don’t have an exhaustive list of every place that Harry has ever visited, but I’m pretty sure she’s never been out this way. So none of us crossed paths. 

Harry and I were criminals, and Leann worked for the government…but for the Bureau of Land Management. That’s hardly—I mean, it’s not the FBI, it isn’t like our paths would’ve crossed once Harry and I got arrested. And maybe it’s not important that we would’ve crossed paths or not, maybe it’s…maybe it’s some kind of weird gene we all share or something, something intrinsic in each of us that’s caused us to survive when everyone else…

What, evaporated? Leann’s body is the first that I’ve seen. If we were all immune to something, we’d see everybody who wasn’t. 

I have…I have no theories. After the thing with the tornado siren, I started to think again that maybe…maybe it’s not that everyone else is gone, maybe it’s that we’re somewhere else. That maybe that dark feeling I have sometimes about this being purgatory or hell is right. It’s what I deserve, and for years I didn’t understand what Harry would’ve done to earn the same punishment but then she—

[click, static]

I don’t know what Leann could have possibly done to land herself here.  And if it is some sort of cosmic punishment, well…where the fuck is everyone else? There are things that I’ve done that I’m not proud of, that I carry a hell of a lot of guilt and shame about actually, but I know there are worse people than me. Is this a perfectly calibrated hell for people who have done something bad but not that bad? Maybe Leann was a shitty mom, or was stealing money from her job, or…who knows. But if she had done something like that, then her and Harry being in the same place…sure, I can see that. 

But I don’t belong with them. What I did was so much worse, objectively.  I know that. I don’t pretend like it was right or noble or anything like that. Necessary, maybe,  or at least I thought so at the time—

[click, static]

I just don’t get it. I don’t understand how we’re connected. And maybe I’m looking for a connection where I’ll never find one, maybe it’s just weird fucking coincidence but that doesn’t feel…right. If only three of us made it past 1968, there must be a reason. 

[click, static]

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Breaker WhiskeyBy Atypical Artists

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