The Ghost Lands

I light the lantern and carry it over to the door. After shrugging on my coat, I open the door and step outside into the cool night air. Crossing the porch, I put the lantern on its perch on the balcony, as I've done so many times before.

The mist has already started to roll in. It’s heavier than usual. Almost like a thick fog.

Going back inside, I move through the house until I come to the kitchen. My latest scavenging haul is spread out on the table. The haul includes a couple loaves of old bread, a few canned items, and an unopened bottle of water.

It’s getting harder to find food that hasn't expired and gone bad. It’s even harder to find water that isn’t contaminated. Each scavenging trip I come back with less and less supplies.

Sitting in the middle of the supplies is a radio. I’ve been fiddling with it every night while sitting on the front porch. Pushing aside a can of green beans, I pick up the radio, cradling it carefully in my arms, and head to the front door. I go outside and take a seat on the porch swing.

I sway back and forth, just taking in the fresh air. Everything is silent. Everything except for the quiet whisper of wind. The trees sway without noise. The stars shine soundlessly above.

Mist curls up to the house, licking the edge of the porch. The mist has always been here. Before the war. Before we were here. Before anyone was here.

And now the mist is the only thing that’s left.

...

“Listen,” she said, “do you hear that?"

For a moment I didn’t respond. Then I shook my head.

She leaned back. “Exactly. It’s so quiet.”

“You’re right.”

“It feels so peaceful,” She said. “And so remote. I know we’re just a couple miles from town, but it feels like we’re hundreds of miles away from everything.” She sighed. “Like we’re in our own little world.”

She put her head on my shoulder. I pulled her closer.

We swayed together on the porch swing, listening to the silence that seemed to envelop us. Archie lied at our feet, his yellow fur shining gold in the evening sun.

We stayed like that for the rest of the morning.

...

I set the radio down on the bench next to me. It’s nothing special. Just an old transmitter radio that I had picked up in a home not far from my own. The radio is an older model. A little worn down, but still in decent condition.

Though I have little experience working with radios, my hope is that one day I’ll be able to get it in working condition. Every night I make a little more progress than the last.

After I pull out my tools, I tug my coat tighter around me. Over by the balcony, the lantern flickers in the crisp breeze.

...

I was in the living room, reading a book. The TV played in the background, along with a muffled drone coming from behind the closed bedroom door as she vacuumed.

Next to me, Archie yawned. I scratched his back, sinking my fingers into his golden fur. “Good boy, Archie.”

It was a beautiful Saturday afternoon. Yellow sunlight streamed through the windows, warming up the living room. I considered closing the curtains, but I was too comfortable to get up from my spot.

Taking a break from my book, I marked the page and set it down beside me. I allowed myself to drift into thought.

A disturbance on the TV caught my attention. I glanced up to see a news reporter speaking urgently to the camera. I reached over to grab the remote and turned up the volume. But I could still only hear snatches of sentences over a commotion in the background.

“...rumors of war spreading quickly…”

“...stay indoors…”

“...prepare for the worst…”

I glanced over the couch at the closed bedroom door. The high-pitched hum of the vacuum continued.

I watched the news for a little while more. Then I turned off the TV and picked up my book again. However, I couldn’t read. Not after what I’d just heard. Instead, I got up from the couch to go make some phone calls.

But first I went over and closed the curtains.

...

Taking a break with the radio, I go inside to get a cup of tea. Entering the little farmhouse-style kitchen, I go over and put some water underneath a pair of candles. I lean up against the counter as I wait for it to heat.

It’s dark inside the house, as it usually is by the time the sun starts to go down. The only thing that wards against total darkness are the handful of candles that are scattered around the house. There are enough of them to provide enough light to see. Though I hate being inside the house at night. The darkness makes it eerie. And it doesn’t help how silent it is.

I go over to check the water. Then I pour myself a cup of it and throw in some herbs from the garden. I allow them to soak for a minute or two before taking them out again and disposing of them.

I held the tea up to my nose and took a whiff of the aroma. I take a sip of it. The warm liquid warmed my insides as it went down.

I take another sip, then I put the cup of tea down. I glance across the counter where an unopened bottle of vodka sits. I study it for a while before taking another sip of my tea.

I head back out to the front porch.

...

I strode into the living room where she was lounging in front of the TV, watching a movie.“Turn on the news.”

She swept up the remote in her hand. “Which channel?” She asked, sitting up.

I took a seat next to her on the couch. “Doesn’t matter.”

She rapidly flipped through each channel. Landing on one, the two of us leaned forward to watch.

Live footage played while a news reporter talked in the background. The footage showed the White House, clouds of smoke billowing out of the top of the building. Flames flickered in the windows. My heart sank when the other side of the building came into view. The entire backside of the building had been completely blown away, exposing the burning interior.

Panic rang in my head. I could barely process what was happening. The news reporter was informing us about something, but the only words I could catch were “explosion” and “bombing.”

Next to me, she held a hand up to her mouth. I glanced at her face and saw the same look of dread that I felt.

The news anchor rattled on about an air strike, but I wasn’t paying attention. I couldn’t stop thinking about the war that had just started.

And what it meant for us.

...

Nowadays people are scarce.

There was a time when everyone tried to evacuate from the area. In the country-wide panic, few made it out in time. From what I know now, the people that are left have moved farther up North. Or they’re dead.

I’ve seen evidence of both.

For all I know I could be the only one left in the state. I hold onto hope that somewhere nearby is a house or farm where someone lives, and that one day I’ll find them. My little scavenging trips aren’t just for collecting food and supplies. They’re for searching for other people that could be left. People like me.

It’s been a long time since I’ve seen another human being. And sometimes it shows. I’ll sometimes catch myself talking. I’ll sometimes talk as though someone will hear… But no one ever does.

And I’m scared that no one ever will.

...

“I have to go,” she told me.

I look up from the TV. “What?”

She gestured at the screen. Live footage from a helicopter showed the overview of the city of Washington D.C, and what I saw made my heart skip a beat.

A roaring fire devoured building after building. Clouds of smoke filled the sky. Helicopters and jets tore by. The camera angle changed to show an explosion rock a skyscraper. Pieces of the building rained down onto the streets below.

She flipped the channel to a camera down on the ground. Crowds of people rushed through the streets, attempting to evacuate the streets. There were screams and shouts as people pushed and shoved their way through. Blocked cars honked as people scurried over them. It was chaos.

Another explosion sent a cloud of dirt and rubble into the middle of the street. The camera was suddenly knocked from the hands of the one recording, cracking against the pavement.

She flipped through channel after channel, each one more terrifying than the last. Then she turned off the TV and looked up at me.

“I have to go,” she said again.

I stood there, still shocked from what I’d seen.

She grabbed a jacket from the closet and shoved her car keys in her pocket. “My family,” She said, “they live in D.C—”

“They’re right in the middle of it,” I finished for her.

She nodded, her face pinched with emotion. “I have to make sure they’re okay.”

I got up from the couch and pulled her into a hug. She sank into my arms and I could feel some of the tension leave her body. I kissed the top of her head.

I said, “You can’t go.”

She let go of me and stepped back. “What?”

I pointed at the TV, which showed another explosion going off. “You can’t go. It’s too crazy out there.”

She huffed. Shook her head. “No,” she said. “I need to go. I need to make sure they’re okay.”

“I understand, but—”

“No you don’t,” she raised her voice. “You don’t understand. They’re out in the middle of this war and you want me to just sit back and watch it all happen?”

“That’s not what I’m—”

“Then what are you saying?”

“It’s too dangerous!” I shouted. “Our country is at war! It isn’t safe to be out there. Who knows what might happen to you?”

She looked at me with a mixture of anger and desperation. Then she dropped her gaze and opened the door. I followed her out onto the porch. I touched her shoulder.

“Don’t go,” I pleaded. “Please. It’s not safe.”

She turned around. She took my hand off her shoulder and held it in her own.

“You don’t have to worry about that,” she said. “I’ll just be gone for a little while. I’ll be back before dinner.” She let go of my hand. “I promise.”

She then hurried down the steps and opened the car door to get in.

“Then let me come with you,” I called down to her.

The ghost of a smile flashed across her face. “Stay here and take care of Archie,” she said. “Wait for me until I get back.”

I watched as she backed the car out of the driveway and disappeared down the road. Archie trotted up beside me and whined.

“I know boy,” I muttered, scratching the top of his head. “I know.”

...

I turn the radio over. Then I pry open the bottom with one of my screwdrivers. I take a glance inside of it. Then I put it back down and rub my eyes.

I sigh.

...

I waited for her the entire day she left. I sat on the front porch with Archie, watching each car go by hoping that one of them was hers.

Night came quickly. I hadn’t left the porch except to grab some food or go to the bathroom. Archie was sleeping on the swing beside me. I gazed down the driveway, worry gnawing at me. She still wasn’t back like she promised she would be.

The minutes ticked by. Then those minutes slipped into hours. I waited out there on the porch past midnight. Then I waited some more. My eyelids grew heavy as the night wore on. I did my best to fight to stay awake, but when it was obvious I wasn’t going to win the battle, I took Archie inside to head to sleep.

As I lied in bed, I thought of all the possible reasons that she wasn’t back yet. The only one I felt comfortable believing was that she’d decided to spend the night at her family’s house.

But days went by and she still wasn’t back. I attempted to call her multiple times, but she never picked up.

A week later the power was cut.

I thought it’d be temporary, but it never came back on. Archie figured out something was wrong immediately. He was restless and didn’t like being in the house. Sometimes I’d let him out and didn’t see him until dusk.

Each night I waited out on the front porch, watching for the car that I knew was going to be driving up. Archie waited with me. But he didn’t like the dark. So I dug out some candles and placed them around the house, providing a little light.

I even found an old lantern in the shed. I took it to the porch and set it on the balcony. It gave off a warm glow that made both Archie and I feel a little more comfortable.

The lantern proved to be useful in more than one way. The lantern was bright enough that it pierced through the nightly mist, becoming a beacon of light.

Every night, I continued to set out the lantern. Every night Archie and I waited for her to return.

But she never did.

...

She called it the Ghost Lands.

The few acres that we lived on. The ring of trees that encircle the property. The house. The mist. All of it.

She never explained why she called it that. Looking back, I realize that I never asked. I used to tell her it was a stupid name. Of course, I never actually thought that. But I never had the chance to make sure she knew it.

The Ghost Lands were important to the both of us.

I just wish they could’ve done more for her.

...

Seven months after she’d left, Archie had stopped eating.

I could tell he was sick just by watching him. He wasn’t as active as usual. He’d stopped responding when I called his name. Some nights I’d hear him whimper softly in the dark.

I had nothing. No medicine. I didn’t know how to help him. There was nowhere to go to find him the help that he needed.

One night he didn’t have the strength to even open his eyes. And I knew that he wasn’t going to make it much longer. So I sat up with him all night, making sure he knew that he wasn’t alone. I’d scratch his back and mutter, “Good boy, Archie. Good boy.”

He was gone by morning.

I buried him in the backyard, next to the garden. I dug the grave myself, with a little spade I found in the shed. It took me two hours. Afterward, I took the time to carve him a tombstone out of wood. I placed it on top of the grave, along with some flowers from the garden. Then I said goodbye.

It was the first time since she left that I’d cried.

...

Archie

A true friend

2014-2022

I stare at the words inscribed on the tombstone as fresh feelings welled up inside of me. Now, looking back, I wish I had written more. But it was the only thing I could think of at the time.

The words have faded a little. And there are a couple cracks along the side of the tombstone. But it feels like just the other day that I was carving Archie’s name into the wood.

The flowers on his grave have withered away. I place down the fresh ones I’ve brought with me. Stepping back, I gaze down at the dirt that held my dog’s remains.

Today marks the second year since Archie’s death.

Sometimes it’s still hard to imagine that he’s actually gone. He was much more than just a dog. Like the tombstone stated, he was my friend. He kept me company in those lonely months adjusting without her. He kept me safe. And I did the same in return.

I stand by the grave for a little longer. I sniffle, whether from emotion or from the cold. Then, I turn and head back inside the house.

I grab the radio from the kitchen table and head for the front door. I hesitate before going outside. Then I turn back and snatch the bottle of vodka off the counter, tucking it under my arm as I stepped out onto the front porch.

...

I sat on the front porch, rocking slowly in the swing.

Alone.

I stared into the distance, watching as the sun inched below the land. One of the windows was open and I could hear the TV playing from the living room. But I wasn’t listening to it. Nor was I listening to the bird that was chirping from a nearby tree. Or the rhythmic creaking of the swing. I couldn’t hear it. I couldn’t hear any of it.

Down on the ground, the mist had started to form. I watched as it took shape, slowly blurring my view of the sunset. I watched until the mist had solidified and the sun had fully been obscured. I exhaled.

The pain had disappeared and now a numbness had set in. I couldn’t feel anything. I didn’t want to feel anything.

I was tired and hungry. I didn’t sleep last night and I hadn’t eaten in hours. But that didn’t matter anymore. The house felt empty. The world felt empty. It felt like no one and nothing was left in it. For the first time, I felt like I finally understood why she called it the Ghost Lands.

...

I pop the bottom back into place and turn on the radio.

Nothing.

I give the dial a spin.

Again, nothing.

I fiddle with it for another few minutes. I don’t know exactly what I’m looking for. Maybe a broadcast or a simple signal. I just have to find some sort of sign. A sign that someone else is out there. A sign that I’m not alone in this world. A sense of urgency rises up within me as I spin the knobs with more and more aggression.

But… Nothing.

With a cry of rage, I knock the radio from my lap and onto the ground. I stand up and I kick the radio. My foot cracks against it, sending it flying across the porch. I grasp the edges of the coffee table and flip it over. Swiveling my head around, my eyes lock onto the glowing lantern that sits on the balcony.

Tears prickle the edges of my eyes as I stride over to it and pick it up. I lob it over the railing, giving an angry shout that pierces the night. The lantern is immediately swallowed up by the fog.

I stand there, heaving.

Then I break down. I stand there, tears cascading down my face as I let out a loud sob. I allow myself a few minutes to let it out. When I’m done crying, I wipe my face and walk down the porch steps.

I approach the lantern slowly. On the ground, it lay in a mess of glass shards. The flame inside of it is already dimming. It’s a sad sight, watching it. The flame flickers in an attempt to stay alive, but after a moment it goes out completely.

I pick it up gingerly and shake out the rest of the broken glass, then carry it back onto the porch. I set it down on the swing. There, the hollow remains of the lantern rests, I realize, permanently.

Wistful, I force my eyes away from the lantern to gaze out away from the porch. The sun is just peeking up from between the distant trees. The mist has nearly all dissipated, leaving the earth bare from its ghostly casing.

And the world feels as lonely as ever.

I scan the porch until I spot the radio. I go over and pick it up, examining its condition. The side of the radio is caved in from when I’d kicked it. The top of it has completely broken off, exposing the damaged circuit board. I could try to put it back together, but just looking at it I can tell it’s broken beyond repair.

I dump it next to the shattered lantern.

I stand over the table, studying the nearby bottle of vodka. After a moment of consideration, I grab it and tip it over, spilling the little liquid that was left onto the ground. I toss the empty bottle into the pile of broken objects. I sit down next to them.

I watch as the dark blue sky takes on a pinkish tint as the sun began to climb.

I get to my feet and gather up the radio and vodka bottle. I leave the lantern. As I head to the door, I glance back at the sun. I stare for a moment, then move to walk inside. But something else catches my attention. Something off in the distance. I strain my eyes to make out what it is.

I inhale sharply as I realize what I am looking at. A light.

There’s a light.

I can’t tell how far away it is or where it’s coming from, but it’s undoubtedly a light. It looks like it could be coming from town, but I don’t think so. It seems much farther away than that. Working cars were rare, but it could be the headlights of some sort of vehicle. Or it could be a flashlight or lantern, like mine.

But at the moment it doesn’t matter what it is. The only thing that matters to me is that I’m looking at the location of another survivor… another person.

I take a step down from the porch. I shiver as the cold bites my skin. But I continue through the mist until I reach the edge of the property. I’m able to see the light a little bit better from this angle.

I watch as the light flickers and disappears. A moment later it reappears and flickers once again. The pattern repeats a couple more times. The breath leaves my lungs as I realize exactly what I’m looking at.

Someone is trying to communicate.

...

“I told you it was worth getting up for.”

I nodded while striving to rub the sleep out of my eyes. I fought the urge to yawn.

It was early in the morning and she had woken me up to watch the sunrise. So we grabbed a couple cups of coffee and brought them out to the front porch where we sat together.

We swung back and forth, watching as the sun began to ascend. The sky was awash with colors. It had started off a deep pink, but now it was a mixture of bright blue and orange.

“You were right,” I said.

She smiled.

At our feet, Archie looked up and grinned at us, his big tongue lolling out of his mouth

She said, “The mist…”

The mist had started to evaporate. I’d seen the mist appear at night many times, but this was the first time I was seeing it dissipate.

She took a sip of her coffee, then put it down on the table. “I would be happy with just living here forever.” She nudged me. “In the Ghost Lands.”

Now it was my turn to smile.