The Long Dark

killed. “Could you be a little more specific?” I asked.
He stopped what he was doing, flicked off his hood, and said, “Startin off, I don’t agree with Tish. She’s wrong ‘bout what she said ta you back ‘ere. But just like you said, son… it’s a matter of time ‘fore ‘ey catch up with us. We ain’t gonna get away scot-free ever time. Our luck’s goin ta run out.”
“I know.”
“I don’t mean ta harp on it, so I won’t.”
“I appreciate it.”
“What ‘bout Avery drivin ‘at truck like ‘at? You believe ‘at?”
“He’s full of surprises, there’s no doubt about that.”
“You should treat him different…” He winced. “Sorry, son. No more bitchin’.”
I shook my head and laughed. “Thanks.”
We bashed and hacked our way through the furniture, and we had a hell of a pile as a result. It would be enough to at least last through the night, which was good because it was turning as bitter cold. Much more like the average Arctic temperatures you would expect for December.
I was getting ready to load myself up with wood when Sam said. “Tish…”
I waited. “Tish?”
“She’s changed.”
“Bound to happen with everything that’s going on. She hates me.”
Through the lamplight, I could see his wrinkled brow. “She ain’t only bein an ass ta you. She’s treatin me even worse, cold shoulder and all.”
“Do you think it has to do with Tom?” I asked, wincing as soon as I realized what I’d said.
“I knowed Tish and Tom was close, but I talked ta Tom ‘bout it. He said, ‘ey was only friends. Me and her became close after ‘at.”
“Dude, it’s not exactly a secret.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “I feel weird talkin ta you ‘bout shit like ‘is right now. Hell, anytime… but ‘specially right now, with everthang goin on. It seems silly.”
“I don’t think it’s silly. Perspective and shit to live and fight for, you know?” I paused, thought about what I was going to say, before finally settling on, “She’s changed. Hated me since what happened at Miley’s. I guess I understand, but, yeah, I guess I don’t.”
“The baby…” He swatted me on the back. “Sorry, son.”
“Don’t be. I did it. I got to live with it, but I don’t know if I regret it. I mean, I didn’t want to kill a goddamn baby, but…”
“But?”
“I guess it doesn’t matter. What’s done is done.”
“I’m not sure I could be ‘at cold ‘bout it, but ’at don’t mean I thank any less of you. I can say all kinds of shit ‘bout this and ‘at, ‘bout what I would’ve did, but I don’t know. I ain’t judgin. Ain’t like I was happy ‘bout ‘em.”
“I didn’t ask for any of this shit, but neither did you or any of our friends. We have to make the best of it. More importantly, we have to stay alive by whatever means necessary.”
He filled his arms with the last bits of wood and was about to head out the door when he stopped. “Can I ask you, somethin?”
“Sure.”
“Why did you kill ‘em?”
“They were happy.”
“Huh?”
“After we finished talking, and I started pulling the tape off Kelley, I happened to glance at Bob. He was happy as a fucking fiddle, and Kelley was looking at him like he was her senior prom date. The next thing I knew my hand was in my waistband… grabbing for the gun. I didn’t say anything. I don’t even remember being mad – may be crazy, but not mad. At that moment, it seemed like the right thing to do.”
***
The small wood stove wasn’t going to turn the cabin into a sauna, but it was a hell of a lot better than nothing. It also provided much-needed light that our quickly fading lamps couldn’t. We were going to have to restock on batteries soon, or we were going to have to evolve swiftly eyesight that allowed us to see in the pitch dark. Batteries weren’t all we needed. Food, water, diesel for the Ripsaw, and ammunition were on the shortlist of things we couldn’t do without.
Ammunition: the idea of a new reality where bullets for guns were right up there with food and water was something I really couldn’t square. I had killed three or four people with the bullets I’d used so far. How many more would I have to shoot and kill in the coming days? More bullets equated to more killing. That was something you didn’t usually have to think about.
I looked around at the haggard gathering. No one talked. Instead, everyone was content with eating their MREs, while staring aimlessly in a direction allowing them to avoid human interaction. What bothered me most, I think, was Sam’s pained face. On that day or night or however in the shit you wanted to classify it, he stared blank-eyed off in the distance. The only thing that defined him more than his mustache and colorful language was his infinite gregariousness. In that short moment of him letting his guard down, I saw the face of someone who was as afraid and affected by everything as the rest of us.
Then there was Tish. I was beginning to not trust her. Looking back, how she acted while I was gathering things up at the radar site fueled that distrust. I felt like she was watching me, making sure I didn’t have time to properly go through the soldiers’ belongings. She didn’t see me get the phone, I didn’t think, and I was going to make sure it stayed that way. Still, I was aggravated for thinking such thoughts, and I told myself I wasn’t going to let my unproven suspicions dictate how I treated her. Everybody handled things differently, I kept reminding myself.
Avery had a seat next to me. In between bites of whatever disgusting MRE he seemed to be enjoying way too much, he asked me about what I had seen at the radar base.
Between bites of my then tasteless and very much lukewarm macaroni and cheese, I said, “Mainly just the radar dish.”
“You