Breaker Whiskey

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(tipsy) Donnie and I have kissed and made up. 

Well, obviously we haven’t kissed. But, you know what I mean. We drank a lot of beer—apparently the moment he got to Massachusetts, he started stockpiling, which is really so typical. But it helped. Our issues are resolved. Without anyone having to kiss anybody else. 

(a laugh) Poor Donnie. He was pretty sad when I told him I hadn’t found anyone else beside Leann and Junior. Not that there’s no one else out there to find but…you know. The odds don’t look great. But the poor guy hasn’t had sex in seven years and I think it’s making him crazier than not having anyone to talk—

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(off mic)—c'mon

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(off mic) —not. Sh! (on mic) Anyway, not like I’ve seen any action in the last seven years because I haven’t. Despite what some people might—

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(off mic)—not ever, I promise. (on mic) He doesn’t believe me. But he should. If I did have anything to report, I’m sure you would’ve heard about it already, my night people, my listeners, because I’m not sure I would’ve ever been able to fucking shut up about it. Oh, come—

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He’s laughing at me. This is an absurd conversation. (off mic) And you’re an absurd person. (laughing) Oh yeah, well how about the impressions, how do you—

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[TRANSCRIPT]

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Okay, Donnie is driving me crazy, in that way that he always had, that I guess I’d just forgotten in the years and the distance. And I just need to…

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I needed a break. 

I wonder if bull-headed people just draw in other bull-headed people. Like attracts like, right? Or maybe it’s simply a necessity of our profession. Or maybe we were drawn to criminal enterprises because we’re stubborn and immovable. Either way, it feels like every single person in my life—both back in the real world and here—is fucking…intractable. 

We’re still not agreeing on the best approach. I’m—well, I’m obviously not going to say what the nature of the disagreement is. Whatever we end up doing, if we end up doing anything, I clearly can’t tell you until after its done. If then, even. 

I will say, my need to speak my feelings and thoughts into my CB has definitely been tempered by finding Donnie. Sure, maybe I’m not as uncensored with him, but that has less to do with trust than with actually getting a response back. It is easier to say everything that comes into my head to a radio that doesn’t talk back. I trust Donnie with my life, would tell him practically anything he wants to know, but he has things to say to me, and it…I don’t know, it quiets everything in my brain. 

Even if he is driving me up the fucking wall. I hadn’t realized how much I’ve been inoculated to Harry’s particular form of crazy-making behavior. Not that I was unbothered by her—that isn’t the case at all, that’s for fucking sure—but more that I eventually stopped immediately blowing my top when we’d get into a snit. But even sharing a space with a new person, the littlest things are irritating. Tripping over his shoes, having him yell “what?” when I’m talking to myself and he thinks I’m talking to him. Hearing him talk to himself and doing the same. 

None of it…it’s not a problem. That’s not why I’m sitting in my car talking on this. The argument we had—it’s not about leaving your shoes out. I’m just. I guess I’m making an observation. About how ill-equipped I feel to be around other people, even when it’s all I want in this world. 

It doesn’t dull the joy—the argument, the annoyances. I’m still on the top of the world. Just hearing his voice in the morning as he grumbles about waking up feels like the sun coming out after a storm. I might want to throttle him right now, but I still wouldn’t let him go for anything. And I think he feels the same way. 

Anyway, I should get back to him. Signing off. 

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[TRANSCRIPT]

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Breaker, breaker, this is Whiskey calling out for Harry—I don’t know if you can hear this where you are, or if you’re even listening, or if you’re just waiting in that gallery for me to show up, but you might have to wait a little bit longer. 

Donnie wants to solve the Junior problem. And we both think it’s probably safer for you to stay put where you are while we figure it out. 

We’re currently…in disagreement over what solving that problem looks like. And Junior is probably listening to this, even if you’re not, so I shouldn’t say more. But you’ve got the radio and the car, and I’m sure you’ve been able to find supplies up there, so just…sit tight for a bit. There’s no point in all three of us being in mortal danger if we can help it. 

Whiskey out. 

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[TRANSCRIPT]

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So, today I asked Donnie what he remembered about me.  I thought you all might enjoy an update. 

At first he, of course, turned the question around on me. I don’t think he heard my entire transmission the other day talking about it, about feeling safe around him, but he knows I’ve talked a little about everyone—and yeah, I think I’m okay to talk about my perception of Don, and how accurate it is, and still respect his rule that I don’t reveal too much about him or his life. 

Huh?

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Yeah, he says it’s fine, as long as I’m being honest about what the says about me. Which is fair. 

And—

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(laughing) I’ll take that as a compliment. 

Don says I’m a regular Jean Shepherd. Maybe that’s not a cultural reference that’ll land with everyone, I think he may have just been a New York guy—he had this radio show on WOR, for us “night people”. That’s what he calls—called—all of us who were fighting against the…what was it?

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—that’s right, yeah. The “creeping meatballism”. Of course you remember that.  Mediocrity, basically. And the celebration of it.

Shep could talk and talk and talk and he’d talk about everything from his childhood in Indiana to railing against cultural conformity and, yeah, I guess I get the comparison. What can I say, I get why he did this for so many years. There’s something to speaking all your thoughts into a radio. 

But back to the point I’m trying to make—Don is basically who I remember him being. Yeah—I remember you being pretty easy-going and warm, when you know someone at least, but when you’re serious about something, you’re serious. There’s no arguing with you or talking you out of it. 

You also deflect questions about yourself or your feelings with humor, which—

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Okay, yeah, that’s fair, I do that too. But you remember me differently than I was. I’m still pretty straight-forward, and I don’t take shit from you, which you always liked, but it’s…easier to be around me. Don’t shake your head, that’s right! You said I used to be harder. That living here, with Harry, has made me soft. 

What?

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—not right now. Because I don’t want to—

Okay, clearly there’s a reason Shep didn’t have a co-host. I think I’ll call it there.

So goodnight, dear night people. Goodnight. 

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[TRANSCRIPT]

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You know, it’s so funny how people don’t change, even in the kind of extraordinary circumstance we’re in. The apocalypse, an empty world, seven years of trying to find each other and Donnie still cannot wake up before ten AM. 

I don’t know when I became an early riser. I thought it was one of those things that just happened as you got older, but it clearly doesn’t happen to everybody. Donnie’s older than me and he still sleeps like a teenager. 

I…I’m not sure where to begin in talking about him. We spent hours yesterday, sitting at the kitchen table and shooting the shit. We had a hell of a lot to catch up on. 

I know you might be curious, whoever you are, what Don was up to all this time. But that’s another thing he wants to keep to himself. I’m not sure why—from what he’s told me, it’s not like there’s anything particularly of note from the last seven years, aside from the particulars of surviving—but I’m going to respect his choice. I guess that’s another way that he hasn’t changed—you spend decades keeping certain information siloed from one part of your life and other information siloed from another part and that just becomes…normal.  

That was a bit of a theme among the crew, I guess. Pete was incredibly  secretive about his home life—where he lived, who he lived with. He could’ve had a wife and kids for all we knew. Don didn’t talk much about his family, even though he saw them all the time, and they didn’t know about us; even Harry’s parents were still around, in New York no less, but I didn’t even know that until we were here. As far as they were concerned, she was a up-and-coming painter, which wasn’t untrue just…incomplete. 

But besides being nostalgic about Chicago sometimes, Richie seemed to be like me — his whole life was one complete piece. Maybe that’s why we always got together at his place. And I guess we each had people—girlfriends, mostly—who we didn’t introduce to our…professional life, but I’m not sure either of us really took pains to hide it.  Or, ever got very serious or committed in those parts of our lives.  

I’m not good at compartmentalizing I don’t think. I guess that goes hand in hand with the way I tend to fixate on a particular thing or person, but I just don’t know how all of them could stand to lead such different lives depending on who they’re with. I don’t share Don’s inclination toward privacy, even knowing that talking on here might eventually lead to my ruin. 

Not that I’ve told you everything. Not everything I have told you is true. But I don’t feel like I’m hiding when I talk on here. 

That said…god, it is different talking to Don. (laughs) I mean, christ, it’s—it’s so good. To talk to someone who talks back, to talk to someone who knows me. I don’t have to explain certain things, I don’t have to make excuses for who I am or what I do. Not that I—well, I think I have done that a little, to you. Not knowing who I’m talking to, well, it makes me want to be a better version of myself, one who had a…I don’t know, dignified job. One who contributed to the world in a positive way instead of breaking it. 

Don, god bless him, does not seem that pissed about the fact that he’s here because of me. Don’t get me wrong, he hates being here, he’s furious he is, but when I explained everything—my theory that killing Billings created some sort of branching timeline that we’re all stuck in, everyone who was affected by that action—he…he got it. He got why I did what I did. And he doesn’t blame me for it. After all, how the hell would I have known what would happen? There is…there is some comfort to be taken in that. 

When he asked—I mean, he wondered why he was here of all people. He hasn’t seen Pete or Richie anywhere, and he’s looked, so he couldn’t figure why he was singled out. They were all awaiting trial so why is he—

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I told him about Leann. That there are some random ripple effects, that there might be even more people out there who we’ve never even met that had the trajectory of their lives changed by what I did. That we may never really understand how and why the dominoes fell the way they did. 

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Anyway, I’m gonna see what I can scrounge up for breakfast. Maybe by the time he wakes up, I’ll be able to surprise Don with something. Seven years and he hasn’t once had the pleasure of waking up to someone else having made breakfast. 

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We haven’t talked about that yet, not really. The fact that he was alone and I had Harry. Whenever I tried to ask…

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So, yeah, I’ll be off the radio for the rest of the day. We have even more catching up to do.  
Whiskey out. 

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[TRANSCRIPT]

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So…I found him! I fucking found him. I don’t even—

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The whistling. I thought I was losing my mind at first. It was so weak, and kept going out before I could catch all of it but I knew—

I mean, that’s our whistle. Our lookout whistle. Who else could it be but Don? And after all this time and so many attempts to find Birdie or…or anyone, driving around until the signal got stronger actually fucking worked. 

I— what?

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(calling out off mic) —because I have to! Just—hold on a sec, okay? 

Sorry, he— Don doesn’t get why I’m telling the radio this news when there’s a guy out there trying to kill me but I want Harry to know and I—

I want you to know. 

I don’t—I’m not sure who you are in this scenario. Maybe Birdie, my first friend in this world, even if I’m not sure they are a friend. Maybe…

Look, the fact that my transmissions got all the way to Harry when I was in fucking Los Angeles…maybe…maybe other people are out there, hearing me. If there’s even the slightest chance—

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—(off mic) you could just tell them yourself. (to the mic) Alright. (off mic) Yeah, that’s fine, just let me finish—

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Donnie refuses to come onto the radio. Apparently whistling is as much as he’s willing to reveal about what he sounds like. So those “morse code freaks” don’t have more intel on him. 

He’s also requested that I stop talking about him and his family on here. Which I will do. But I’m still…well, I think you deserve to know, dear listener, what it’s like to finally be with someone after all this time. 

God, I still can’t believe it. I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy. It’s like every holiday ever all at once. Like I’ve been walking through the desert for years and finally, finally stumbled on an oasis. 

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Don’s laughing at being called an oasis. (off mic) Yeah, I would never have guessed it either!

(to mic) Sorry, things are a little chaotic, clearly. I—well, I’m going to go have a goddamn conversation with a goddamn human being, in person and everything. 

So…signing off. 

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[TRANSCRIPT]

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Except I don’t, remember? Because I had to abandon the car that I’d been driving and all the supplies I’d built up over the last few months after the last time Junior tried to kill me. 

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“You have gun too”…I swear to fucking god. What is your game Fox? Who are you? Are you just bored? Has my intrepid journey through the country not been enough entertainment for you? Are you hoping to manipulate me into some kind of OK Corral final stand?

It’s not going to work. I don’t have a gun anymore and even if I did, I wouldn’t—I will defend myself, and I’ll defend Harry, but I’m going to do everything in my power to avoid a situation in which I would have to defend us. 

Fuck this. Fuck you. I’m—I’m done. 

Birdie, if you’ve got any opinions or insight on any of this, now would be a great time to pipe up. 

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[a strange whistling sound]

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[TRANSCRIPT]

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You said it could be fixed. Weeks ago, Fox you said—I think you only sent the message once, maybe because you were worried Birdie would interfere, but I—I heard it. And I…I couldn’t think about it, couldn’t let myself hope yet, not when I was already so hopeful I would find Don. 

Was this what you meant by it being fixable? Is my death at the hands of that boy the way to fix this? Did you send me to Junior so that he’d shoot me and everything would go back to the way it was?

God, that can’t really be the answer, can it? I know I’ve said—I mean, I’ve wondered. It does make a certain kind of sense—my actions brought us all here, all these people are being collectively punished for something I did or, at the very least, were punted here because of something I didn’t do or…something I would’ve done. I would’ve done something back in the real world that would’ve eventually affected Leann’s life in some way. And because I’m not there…

I’m guessing that’s why Don is here too. Because Harry is. And maybe without her, because he wasn’t actually in the building at the time, there wasn’t enough evidence to—

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Why am I even trying to work this all out? What does it matter? We’re here, with each other, and I don’t see how that changes. Because I’m not going to just walk into my own execution, not now, not when I’m on my way to—

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I just don’t believe that the solution to this is going to be in the barrel of an angry boy’s gun. 

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[beeps]

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you have gun too

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[TRANSCRIPT]

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(a slight intake of breath)

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Do you think I’m a fucking idiot, Fox? Did you think that you’d earned my trust simply by the virtue of being one of the few people in the world I talk to? Did you think that having sent me Leann’s coordinates before meant I would blindly follow wherever you led?

I know I said there was no harm in trying, that it’s good to have hope, but that doesn’t mean that I’m new to this. That doesn’t mean I was going to be fucking stupid about it. 

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I think you’ve forgotten who I am. I wasn’t some sort of criminal mastermind, or bad-ass GI Joe, but I spent my life sneaking and thieving and never getting caught. In fact I wouldn’t have been caught if— 

I’ve been taking care of myself since I was fifteen years old. I’ve learned when to trust people and when not to and I’m fucking good at calculating risk. And maybe I’ve let myself get soft this last year, maybe I’ve wanted to trust a little more than usual but that trust has always been conditional. 

I don’t know what you’re playing at, but if you were banking on me just driving right up to the coordinates and announcing myself, you’re not very good at whatever you’re trying to do. 

And I know what you’ll say—maybe Junior just also heard the coordinates and just beat me there. Except I didn’t say how close I was to the coordinates you gave. I was fucking close. And he was already there. I even checked the hood of his car, that stupid VW—it was cold. He’d been there for a while. You sent me to him.

You sent me to him and either you knew exactly where he was or you told him where to go first. Because it looked like he was waiting. And he had—he had a gun, Fox, and I’m sure he would’ve shot me on the spot. He was waiting for something. For someone. 

So I waited too. I watched him for two hours. And you know why I think you told him where to go and then gave me those coordinates? Because he started to talk. I’m not someone who is going to judge someone else for talking to themselves, I would be a fucking hypocrite if I did. But he was…he was yelling. He was yelling for me. He was furious when I didn’t show up. And it…it made him look even more frail. Like the scared little kid he practically is. The gun was shaking in his hand. I doubt he could’ve shot straight if he’d tried. 

Junior might be inexperienced, he might be ill-equipped, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t dangerous. The way he was shouting, the anger that’s inside him…you don’t have to know what you’re doing to be a threat. 

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Maybe it’s fucking foolish of me to even attempt it, but the coordinates aren’t far and the last time I found a dead body—if these are really coordinates of someone alive and I have a chance to get to them before anything happens…I’m not taking that risk. 

It’s a small diversion but Don didn’t show up at the house. No one did. And maybe…maybe Fox is doing me an actual favor and there will be someone at these coordinates, someone who is alive and well and maybe…maybe it's even Don. Maybe this is how I find him. 

And if not…well, there’s no harm in trying. There’s no harm in having hope. I’m pretty sure hope is what’s kept me alive this long. 

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