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[TRANSCRIPT]
[click, static]
I feel like I can breathe again. I’m in Estes Park, a beautiful little…resort town? I don’t know, it seems like a place the fancy muckety-mucks would come to. It’s tucked in the mountains, but not so far that I’m worried about Donner Party-ing it. There’s a gorgeous lake and a cute little downtown and this stunning great white building overlooking the whole place. The Stanley Hotel—it’s pretty old, according to the plaque on the front, and it’s enormous. And I’ve got it all to myself.
I haven’t actually gone inside yet. I wanted to radio you to let you know I’m okay before I settled in for the night. I’m taking the CB with me, but the chances of the place having power to plug it in…maybe I can grab a battery from a car parked out here, or maybe if I’m really lucky, they’ve got a back-up generator. We’ll see if I get lucky. If not, I’ll talk to you in the morning .
[click, static]
But for now, I’m okay. I’m not in Denver, and I’m fine.
I’m still a little annoyed with you if I’m honest, but as long as you get back to me soon with some answers, I’ll let bygones be bygones.
This is Whiskey, going dark.
[click, static]
See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.
[TRANSCRIPT]
[click, static]
I barely slept last night, thanks to you. I know you’re probably thinking, “yeah, Whiskey, you idiot, you slept in your car in October in the middle of Colorado, of course you didn’t fucking sleep”. And sure, I was a little cold, but I’ve got thermals. Mostly it’s the—you don’t realize it. Just how unnerving open spaces are until you’re in them.
It should be better, right? It’s not looking out on our backyard and seeing a figure amongst the trees. When you’ve got woods around you, the whole world becomes a series of shadows. Shapes and forms with dimension, ever shifting and hard to parse for how they blend together when the light changes. But you get used to the shadows. And they create a sense of place, a sense of being.
The openness of where I am—the infinite horizon and endless sky…you start to lose yourself in it. It was the same feeling I got in Lost Springs—because you can see everything around you, your brain starts playing tricks. What aren’t you seeing? Surely it’s impossible to perceive every object, every figure for miles and miles. Surely, there’s something just off in the distance waiting for you.
At least with mountains and trees, you know there are things you can’t see. You know where the shadows are. You know where not to tread.
[click, static]
I need to get out of here. Go toward the mountains, where the shapes are more discernible, the dangers more obvious.
Whiskey out.
[click, static]
See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.
[TRANSCRIPT]
[click, static]
What does that mean?
[click, static]
Birdie, I’m serious, if you’re listening to this right now, tell me what that means.
[click, static]
“Stay out of Denver”? That’s all? You knew I was headed to Colorado, why didn’t you tell me before now?
[click, static]
Is this a prank? Is that what you’re doing? Trying to pull some kind of sick joke? Because I’m going to be furious if that’s the case.
Why? Why do I need to stay out of Denver? What’s there? What do you know?
What aren’t you telling me, Birdie?
I mean, I know there’s a lot you’re not telling me. I mean, I know there’s a lot you’re not telling me and there’s plenty I’m not telling you. And I know that you’re trying to convey the most vital information the quickest, but the directive of “stay out of Denver” with no other explanation is pretty disturbing when I’m an hour from the city.
What if I hadn’t heard it? What if I hadn’t pulled over to fucking translate it? What then?
(sigh) God, Birdie, I’m grateful for you but sometimes…
[click, static]
You know, I only pulled over to decode your message because it’s already dark and I figured once I got to Denver I’d just pick a hotel and pass out and I didn’t want to wait until tomorrow. I’m tired. All day—all week, I’ve been—
[click, static]
And now what am I supposed to do? I’m close to Fort Collins, I guess I could find something there, but is that…is Fort Collins…should I stay out of Fort Collins too?
You’ve got me freaked out, Birdie.
It’s so open out here. I’m on I-25 and…I don’t think I realized how flat Colorado could be. The Rockies don’t look that far but…
It’s too open. I—maybe I’ll just sleep in my car. It has locks that work, I know every sound it makes, I’ve got several knives in here…
“Stay out of Denver”. Jesus Christ, Birdie.
See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.
[TRANSCRIPT]
[click, static]
Lost Springs, Wyoming. The smallest town in America.
I don’t know if that’s actually true. I passed a little rundown sign outside of Cheyenne advertising it—or, I guess not advertising it. Proudly proclaiming it. There’s nothing really to advertise.
According to the sign at the town’s edge, the population of Lost Springs is five. As far as I’ve been able to tell, the population is now down to zero. I—
[click, static] I’m not sure why I wanted to come here. I thought—well, this is going to sound fucking stupid, but seeing that sign and thinking of a tiny town with a tiny population made me think of my miniatures. Like Lost Springs would be a tiny dollhouse set. I mean, with a name like Lost Springs, you know…
[click, static]
It’s not like that really. It’s one road, obviously—there’s a post office and store and a bar. And to be clear, the post office and store are one building, the bar’s on the other side of the street. There’s a few other buildings but I can’t tell what they are.
I did go into the bar and, I guess it should come as no surprise, but their liquor selection was not particularly impressive. But I’m wandering around the main street and it’s…
[click, static]
I don’t know. The weather is turning. Makes sense, I guess, now that we’re in the final days of October. It isn’t raining or anything but…
Well, maybe I’m a little suspicious of gray-green skies now.
[click, static]
I thought it’d make me feel better, coming here. That there would be something idyllic in it—surely those that chose to live in a town with only a few other people did it for a reason. They removed themselves from society, entrusted themselves to a few other hands for something.
It isn’t that it’s a bad place. There’s nothing wrong with it. It’s…a town. It’s a town that’s small, yes, but otherwise looks just like half the towns I’ve driven through in this state or any state. It isn’t special or…somehow magical. There probably isn’t any reason why the people who lived here lived here other than it’s where they ended up.
And it just…
See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.
[TRANSCRIPT]
Hey Birdie I—
(yawning)
[click, static]
Man, I guess it’s been a while since I slept in a really good bed because I found a motel last night and I knocked out like the dead dead. And I am feeling better—less like roadkill (yawning) and more like a person who might even consider hiking again someday.
[click, static]
I, uh—I got your message. I think maybe you started broadcasting it late last night, I thought I heard some beeps from the car as I was falling asleep.
[click, static]
But I can’t have, can I? The car wasn’t on. So I guess I was just hoping to hear from you. But…
Regardless, I got it this morning, um, I’m really sorry I worried you. I’d promise that I’ll never do it again if I thought I had any hope at all of keeping that promise but I don’t think I do
[click, static]
Would you be mad at me if I said it’s kind of nice to be worried over?
Is that shitty of me?
[click, static]
Because it is. It’s nice to know that someone’s worrying. That someone would notice if I suddenly fell off the face of the earth.
And you know, it goes both ways—how are you doing, Birdie? I don’t think I’ve asked in a bit, which shows exactly what kind of friend I am. But I’d love to hear from you—about you—more, if you’re willing to share.
[click, static]
Alright, I think Denver is gonna be the next big stop. There’s a town on my way out of Wyoming I want to check out first, and I’d love to find another not-too-dusty motel to sleep in, so it might be the day after tomorrow that I actually get to the city. Um, it’s been a while since I’ve really gone to an actual city, I don’t know what I’ll do there, but I’ve never been and I’ve heard good things so…why not?
[click, static]
[long static]
[beeps]
See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.
[TRANSCRIPT]
[click, static]
I am getting fucking old. Between sleeping on the ground for a week and all the driving…I am feeling it in my back. I never really thought about how much exercise I was getting in just the daily upkeep of the house and everything in it, but now that I’ve gone several months with little physical activity beyond driving and walking around a little, I am feeling the last weeks’ hikes deep in my body.
I should probably figure something out—some way to keep myself in good physical condition when I’m doing this much driving. Stretch more or something. Harry was into this…yoga stuff? I never really understood it but seemed to involve a lot of inhuman bending, so maybe i can figure out something like that.
Doing shorter drives might help too. I haven’t done any crazy long days in a while, but it might be worth it to keep to only two or three hours every day. I have no idea what I’ll do with the rest of my time other than scavenge for food.
[click, static]
I haven’t heard from you since you asked where I was a few days ago. I hope you’re getting these. I hope you’re okay.
And I hope I’ll hear from you again soon.
Whiskey out.
[click, static]
[beeps]
.-- --- .-. .-. .. . -..
Worried
See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.
[TRANSCRIPT]
[click, static]
Hey Birdie. Officially on I-25 and on my way out of Wyoming. I doubt the whole state is a dead zone, but…I don’t know, I guess I’m getting a little superstitious.
I’m sorry I was MIA for so long. I thought…I don’t know, I thought it would be good for me, to get out of the car and sleep under the stars, spend some time in nature. And it was nice, it was, but I still—
[click, static]
Well, I miss you, I guess. You know, even though I was still hiking back to the car most every day to broadcast. Not that you heard any of it, it seems, um, I don’t know, I still, I missed—
[click, static]
Talking to yourself when you don’t have a PTT to your face and you’re looking over a beautiful placid lake is not quite the same as talking to yourself when there’s the possibility that someone might talk back.
It got me wondering what Harry is—
[click, static]
You know, it’s funny. I haven’t thought about Harry in…god, I mean, how long was I out camping? In that long. And how refreshing that was.
I do wonder how she’s getting along. Not that I ultimately care all that much for her happiness, but I don’t want her to die or anything, mainly because she is the one other person who I can confirm is alive and present on this godforsaken planet.
[click, static]
I don’t want you to think badly of me Birdie—I’m not…I’m not heartless. I’m not callous. I—
[click, long static]
I’m a liar.
I did think about her when I was out in the woods. I don’t know why I’m lying about it like you’re somehow going to judge me for thinking about her. Why would you? Better question—why wouldn’t I think about her? She’s been the only person I’ve had contact with the last six years and she’s…
[click, static]
Well, whether I like it or not, she’s been a staple in my life. You know, made important simply by being the last one standing.
So it isn’t that I wasn’t thinking of her—or that I didn’t think of her. I haven’t been talking about her much lately, but that doesn’t mean—
[click, static]
I’m not sure how to describe it. There were moments out there, in the wilderness, where it was so…peaceful that I…
I didn’t forget about her. I forgot about…everything. I forgot about Harry, I forgot about the world being empty, I forgot about what we did six years ago, I forgot about me. Or—I don’t know if forget is even the right way to describe it. How can you forget something that never was?
That’s what it felt like. Like nothing that existed in my life, including my life, ever existed at all. That I was just some kind of energy, existing in the great outdoors, with no past, no history. Something that leaves no mark on the world. Just…part of it. Seamlessly, effortlessly part of it. The moments were brief, but they were beautiful. The sweet oblivion of never having been real.
[click, static]
See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.
[TRANSCRIPT]
[click, static]
[beeps]
[click, static]
Birdie??
[click, static]
Birdie? Are you still there?
[click, static]
Birdie? Dammit.
[click, static]
I think I’m in some kind of dead spot still—goddammit—
[click, static]
(deep breath) Okay, okay, sorry. I’m—I’m here. I don’t know how long you’ve been sending this message and I’m not even positive I got all of it, because it keeps going in and out, but I’m pretty sure you’re asking where I am? Which means that you probably haven’t been receiving any of my transmissions. Which means…I should probably get out of goddamn Wyoming.
I’m in Wyoming, that’s where I am. I’m still on pretty rural state routes—I’m headed to I-25, so I’ll try you again when I get there.
[click, static]
.-- .... . .-. . / .- .-. . / -.-- --- ..- ..--..
Where are you?
See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.
[TRANSCRIPT]
[click, static]
Hey Birdie.
I think—I think I need to get out of this park. Out of Wyoming. I still don’t understand how the hell you’ve been managing to reach me this whole time, no matter where I’ve been, but I feel like maybe—
[click, static]
Huh. Well, actually, I’m realizing that I’m not even sure you’ve been reaching me wherever I am. For all I know, you’ve been sending messages every single day for the past three months and I’ve only received a quarter of them. And you’re having the most frustrating conversation of your life.
[click, static]
If that’s the case…christ, I’m sorry. Here I am gabbing onto the airwaves every single day and you’re desperately trying to tell me something. Then again, maybe you’re receiving only a quarter of my transmissions. I guess there’s really no way to know for certain.
[click, static]
Whatever’s actually been happening over the course of our conversation, I’m pretty sure that I’m in a hard to reach spot right now, no matter what you’ve got rigged up. I think you were trying to send something the other day, but I was only getting every tenth beep, so it’s impossible to tell. But scanning through the channels every time I’ve come back to the car, it’s been almost entirely static. And less varying static than normal, which probably sounds like nothing, but when you’ve been listening to so much static, you start to learn the slightly different flavors of it. Trust me.
[click, static]
Anyway. This whole diversion has been…well. Diverting. I needed it, I think, on some level. I’m not entirely certain why, but I do feel more grounded. Maybe it was seeing that dog, or nearly getting caught in that tornado, but I’ve been feeling…
I’m feeling better now. So I’m gonna hike back over to my campsite, break everything down, hike back, and then get on the road. Leave national parks exactly as you found them, right? This place doesn’t need people intruding on it anymore.
[click, static]
I’ll get back on the horn when I’m on a major highway again. I hope I hear from you the moment I do. Whiskey out.
[click, static]
See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.
[TRANSCRIPT]
[click, static]
(out of breath)
Oh my god, oh my god—
[click, static]
You will never believe what I just saw.
[click, static]
But, go on, guess.
[click, static]
Okay, yeah, I figured you wouldn’t. A moose! I saw a goddamn moose!
[click, static]
Thank god it didn’t see me, because I’ve heard those things can run fast. But it was just…I mean, it was huge. I thought I knew how big moose are, but I really, really didn’t.
[click, static]
Of course, there’s been a lot of beautiful nature around - more sheep, deer—or are they elk? Tons of neat little birds. I even saw a coyote off in the distance, I’m pretty sure. And I think there are bears and wolves too, but thankfully I haven’t come across them, the moose is by far the most dangerous animal I’ve encountered.
[click, static]
And it looked dangerous. Like it could knock me out with one hit, which I’m sure it could have. I didn’t take my chances—I backed away slowly and then I ran here to tell you, which, um—
[click, static]
I’m not sure, uh, why I did that. It’s not like you can see it too, or that you’re even listening—
[click, static]
I don’t know. It’s…it’s the most exciting thing to happen to me in a while and I guess…I guess I just wanted to share it with someone. Yeah.
[click, static]
See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.
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