The Dystopian Diaries

by K. W. Callahan

  No, for now, I think they’re best left in the basement. It might seem heartless, but I just don’t feel comfortable releasing them yet. They could interfere with the running of the lighthouse, and I can’t have that. If a storm should arise, who will man the operations here? Certainly not them. And I’m still training Ethel and Little Ricky. I almost had Fred ready to fill in for me when I wasn’t feeling up to the task of checking the light, but well, we all know how that turned out.

  I might be able to train these people, but it could take some time, first to get to know them better, then to feel confident in their abilities to manage the lighthouse – and that’s ONLY if Ethel and Little Ricky approve, which is a stretch to say the least.

  4:43 p.m.

  I spent much of the afternoon talking to Kevin and Sally through the basement hatch. They really do seem like decent individuals. Before the flu, Kevin worked at the grocery store, and Sally was a receptionist at an insurance agency in one of the small office buildings downtown.

  They continued to plead with me regarding their living conditions. I told them I’d consider changing things but that they couldn’t rush me…or Ethel and Little Ricky.

  They asked me about Ethel and Little Ricky, saying that they hadn’t seen anyone else here in the lighthouse with me. I told them not to worry about it, that meeting them would come in time, and I left it at that. The less they know about the other occupants here, the better. I’m still not certain about these two. They might just want to learn more about us to use that knowledge to manipulate us in some way.

  When I got back upstairs, Ethel and Little Ricky were waiting for me, and they weren’t happy. They demanded that I use better judgment regarding the prisoners. They said that the only reason those people were talking to me was because they were pretending to be friendly to get more food.

  They then demanded that I take them and their bucket downstairs to be placed by the basement hatch. They said that they couldn’t trust me to be vigilant when I was asleep. They said that there was a real chance of Kevin and Sally escaping and putting all our lives in danger.

  At first I was adamant that Ethel and Little Ricky remain upstairs with me, but they are very convincing. They said that they wanted to take shifts to keep an eye on Kevin and Sally. Then they made me feel guilty, reminding me of what happened to Fred. I tried to turn the Fred argument around on them, saying that he likely died BECAUSE he was trying to keep a watchful eye on the newcomers, but they remained steadfast in their determination to be placed on watch duty downstairs.

  So that’s where we’re at. Ethel and Little Ricky are downstairs on guard duty. I’m upstairs, preparing to make dinner once I finish writing. I don’t like it, but it’s the way it is.

  October 9th

  10:17 a.m.

  It’s the status quo here. I’ve already made and served breakfast. The bucket I lower Kevin and Sally’s food down in was empty when I checked it, so they’re still alive. Again, a part of me wishes they weren’t. I know that probably sounds terrible, but I can’t help it, it’s just how I feel.

  Ethel and Little Ricky gave the all clear when I checked on them first thing this morning. They said that it had remained quiet in the basement all night. I thanked them for their diligent service and gave them extra food for breakfast as their reward.

  On the weather front, it remains chilly. Today is overcast. There is a stiff wind blowing in from the west.

  Thankfully, I haven’t seen one boat out on the lake since the incident several days ago. In my opinion, it can stay that way. All other people seem to do is bring problems with them. I don’t need more problems. I’ve had my fill.

  3:37 p.m.

  It’s been a long, boring day without the fish here to keep me company. I guess I never quite realized just how much they add to my day. Yet they refuse to leave their posts beside the basement hatch. It’s so much lonelier here without their constant presence. It’s amazing how much we interact without even knowing it. I enjoy making comments to them about our lives here. I miss Ethel’s ever-realistic outlook on things. She really keeps me grounded. And of course, I miss Little Ricky’s hilarious comments on everything from the weather to philosophizing on life.

  Speaking of the weather, it’s grown quite dark outside. Clouds are building on the western horizon. The temperature remains in the mid to upper 30s, but there is a stiff wind blowing in from the west and the lake is starting to get choppy. It makes me wonder what I’ll do with Kevin and Sally if another big storm like the one that hit last time arrives. There’s no way they can survive with the basement half flooded with water. Heck, they can barely survive down there now.

  I can hear the waves beginning to slap against the lower base of the lighthouse platform. If the weather continues to pick up, it won’t be long before the basement is taking on water again.

  I’m afraid I’m going to have to let Kevin and Sally out. I know that Ethel and Little Ricky will put up a fierce protest to this idea, but I don’t know what else to do. I can’t keep them down there in the basement in such conditions. The question then becomes, what the heck do I do with them? I can’t leave them free to wander the lighthouse at will. But I have no where else to put them. I guess I could tie them up. But what if they break free while I’m sleeping? They could get one of my guns, and then force me and the fish down into the basement…OR WORSE!!!

  Maybe the storm will pass us by, and then I won’t have to make a decision.

  7:01 p.m.

  So much for the storm bypassing us. The wind is really starting to come on strong now. I can see the lightening stretching across the lake. It ripples like blindingly jagged veins through the sky. Thunder is rumbling. Sometimes it shakes the glass in the lighthouse’s tiny window panes.

  I wonder if the lighthouse has been struck by lightening. I suppose that’s a dumb thought. I’m sure it has. The question then becomes, how many times has it been struck? And what sort of damage does it do? Tonight might be the night I find out.

  Ugh, it’s so damn cold in here! And the approaching storm is just making me want to crawl into bed. In fact, I think that’s what I’ll do. It will help me warm up a bit. I’ll do some thinking about what to do with Kevin and Sally while I’m laying there. I’ll need to make a decision regarding their situation soon. If the waves continue to pick up, there’s no way they’ll be able to survive down there once the water starts coming in. They’ll die from hypothermia for sure.

  Still, I want to put off making a decision until it’s absolutely necessary.

  October 10th

  5:13 a.m.

  DAMN! I fell asleep! I was lulled to peaceful slumber by the cold and the sounds of the storm. I’m now writing by flashlight.

  Wait!! I hear something downstairs.

  I’m going to check it out.

  7:15 a.m.

  I am absolutely distraught! I can’t bring myself to write more right now.

  2:01 p.m.

  I’ve finally calmed enough to write again, but I’m far from fine.

  So let me try to recount what happened. I might not recall all the details since it was shrouded in such a flurry of activity and pure, unadulterated rage.

  After I heard the noises downstairs earlier this morning, I got my handgun, and with my flashlight off (I’ve learned to navigate the lighthouse in the dark fairly well since my arrival), I crept quietly downstairs.

  When I got down to the lighthouse’s lower level, I could sense movement, and I could hear soft, rustling noises coming from near the basement hatch. At first, I assumed that it was Ethel and Little Ricky. I figured that maybe they had become restless and decided to get in a little activity.

  I was wrong…dead wrong!

  As I flipped on my flashlight to remove the shroud of darkness in which the lighthouse was encamped, I was stunned to find Kevin and Sally sitting on the floor beside Ethel and Little Ricky’s bucket. The hatch to the basement was open, the weighted buckets I’d emplaced atop the hatch toppled, their conte
nts spilled.

  At first, I was angry at the prisoners’ insolence. How dare they break free from their prison! But then I thought of the military, and how it’s considered a prisoner’s duty to attempt escape if possible. The thought calmed me temporarily, since I could sympathize with their plight. I wouldn’t want to be stuck in that basement either, especially with the storm forcing water in through the wall. So I couldn’t really blame them for having pushed through my makeshift barrier.

  But what I saw next turned my empathy to outright rage. Kevin and Sally were eating my supplies! At least that’s what I thought at first. But as I stood there focusing on the scene, my freed prisoners blinded by the sudden brightness of my flashlight, I took in a sight that truly horrified me. I realized that the two weren’t eating my supplies – they were eating fish! They were eating Ethel and Little Ricky! Yes, I said, “EATING!!!”

  What happened after that remains somewhat of a blur. When all was said and done, Kevin and Sally were dead, several bullets in each of them.

  I don’t really remember shooting them, but I must have. I guess I was blinded by fury.

  Now I’m left in a sort of daze. I feel some level of guilt for what has happened to my prisoners, but not much. I feel far more guilt for what happened to my best friends. But I took action that could be considered self defense, right? I had to avenge Ethel, Little Ricky, and yes, even Fred. I still blame Kevin and Sally for, knowingly or not, having played some role in Fred’s death.

  As soon as I’d regained some level of my senses and realized that both Kevin and Sally were dead, I dragged their bodies out into the still stormy morning and dumped them off the side of the lighthouse into the seething lake.

  The lake can have them!!! I’m tired of dealing with them. As I see it, it’s some level of karma. Those sick people ate Ethel and Little Ricky. Now the fish in the lake can eat them!

  Good riddance to bad rubbish is the way I see it. They were murderers plain and simple. Now they’ve gotten their comeuppance! Let the lake deal with them. I’ve had my fair share of feeding and housing them.

  I just wish they hadn’t gotten to my last remaining friends on this earth before I’d dealt with them. If I’d been stronger, and if I had listened to Ethel, I wouldn’t be in this situation. I wouldn’t be alone again. Ethel was right, those two were bad news. And I’ve paid for it. No, Fred, Ethel, and Little Ricky have paid for it!! Now I’m left here cold and alone to suffer for the errors of my ways. It’s a penance I must pay for my stupidity. And I accept every bit of it.

  October 12th

  1:25 p.m.

  Nothing much left to say. The quietness and isolation of this damned lighthouse overwhelms me. I thought it’d be my salvation. Instead, it has become my prison…my personal purgatory – a point between two paths. How must I escape it? Death? That would be the easy way. Another six months here until spring? That would be a fate worse than death.

  No answers…no answers…no answers. There are never any answers.

  If only Ethel was here. She was so wise. But those two assholes took her away from me. Now I have no one here with whom I can discuss things.

  I am truly and utterly alone.

  October 15th

  Morning

  My watch died sometime during the night. I have no way of knowing the time now…not that it matters. It does however interfere with my maintaining of the lighthouse operations. Don’t care. If people crash on the rocks, so be it…more food for the fish.

  I thought I was done with death, but death comes in so many forms. Humans, plants, animals, planets, watch batteries…it’s all the same – a start, a purpose, an end without purpose.

  Who cares? Not me. I exist solely to exist. There is no purpose other than to maintain the lighthouse.

  October 21st (maybe?)

  Afternoon

  I really have no idea what day it is, nor do I care, they’re all the same.

  Talked to my grandparents on the phone today. They’re well. Everything is good at home. I also got a call from the office. They’re wondering where I’ve been. They said that my work has been building up while I’ve been away on vacation. That’s okay. They’re holding my job for me.

  I’m going to drive into town to get that Mexican food I’ve been wanting. I’ll pick up Oscar on the way. He said he would buy us a six-pack of beer and we could shoot my guns later this afternoon.

  It snowed today. I went outside with the shotgun and shot at the sky to make it stop. I think that tomorrow will be warm – maybe 60 or even 70 degrees if I fire enough rounds into the air. That seems to scare the sky into doing what I want.

  I shot the side of the lighthouse a few times too, just for good measure. Then I dumped some of my extra supplies into the lake to feed the fish. They need the food more than I do. They deserve it more than I do too.

  Thought about fishing for some new friends, but after what happened to my last four, I don’t want to chance it. They’re happy in the lake, so just leave them be.

  Okay, I need to go check my email. It’s been far too long.

  October or November – maybe June (not sure)

  Daytime

  Why I’m writing? Who knows…who cares? Not me. Not them. Not anyone.

  Today I went to the store…hahahahaha…my OWN store! The only store in town! The only store on this solitary island. The store of grain and beans. Woo-hoo! Exciting stuff.

  I’m the king of my world here…no one to threaten the throne. No fish, no boats, no billy goats!

  I’m almost out of propane. Who the hell cares?!!! I will when my balls freeze to my leg! HA!! That’ll teach me! Won’t have to worry about food. I’ll die from exposure long before I starve to death.

  Maybe I should just walk the plank. Just plunge right down into the lake. All be over in minutes. Join Kevin and Sally, those murderous assholes! Be done with this shit once and for all. But then who would man the lighthouse? I’d be imperiling all those hearty sailors depending upon my work here.

  My work, my work, my work as a jerk. If I weren’t crazy already, I’d be going berserk!

  Today I cut myself. I wanted to ensure that I was still mortal. Sometimes I think I’m a ghost here. Sometimes I wish I WAS a ghost here. I think it would be easier. Are the ghosts here cold or warm? If I could be sure I’d get warm by offing myself, I think I’d do it right this minute.

  Cold, cold, COLD!!! That’s all it is here ALL the damn time!!!

  I’ve burned all the hair off my hands and arms trying to warm them over my little stove. The burnt hair reminds me of popcorn. Mmm-hmm…popcorn!!!

  I’m a lolly-pop! Pretty soon I’ll be a freeze-pop!!!! Hee-hee, hoo-hoo, I’m so constipated that I can’t poo!!! See you later Mr. Magoo!

  Someday, any day

  Now

  Boats! Boats! I see boats! Two boats are headed this way! Who would have guessed, I’d see boats today?!

  I’d better get the light on so they don’t run aground on the shoals.

  Maybe they’ll bring piñatas! Maybe they’ll bring sun! Maybe they’ll bring beanbags! Maybe they’ll bring fun!

  INSERT PAGE

  January 15th

  Mills County court document (copy)

  This journal, kept by Nathan William Whitmore of Mills Creek, Michigan, is being entered by the prosecuting attorney of Mills County as a record of evidence in the first degree murder proceedings of Mr. Kevin Herbert Monroe and Mrs. Sally Elizabeth Monroe.

  After the passing of the Su flu, and the period of anarchy that followed, the few remaining survivors of Mills County and the surrounding areas have reconstituted some level of civilized society and governmental structure. After this re-organization, and quelling of the violence that ravaged the post-flu landscape, many of the persons believed responsible for this savagery were taken into custody up to be held accountable for their alleged crimes.

  Upon the recovery and identification of the remains of Mr. and Mrs. Monroe from the shore of Lake Michigan, Mr. Whitmore
was taken into custody on December 27th and has since been held in the Mills County jail to await trial.

  After thorough investigation, two bullets extracted from the bodies of the deceased matched the caliber of a weapon found in Mr. Whitmore’s possession. The bullets also matched the type contained in several boxes of ammunition found at the lighthouse in which Mr. Whitmore had previously been residing.

  It appears that after careful examination of the defendant, Mr. Whitmore will be unable to defend himself due to his questionable mental state. He seems to have no sense of his current reality and has accused Kevin and Sally Monroe – long-time and well-known and liked residents of Mills Creek – of being killers themselves. Mr. Whitmore claims that they murdered several of his friends. But Mr. Whitmore’s somewhat convoluted explanation of what occurred is highly questionable. Sketches drawn by Mr. Whitmore as well as by a sketch artist, and with evidence supported by entries in this journal, it appears that Mr. Whitmore’s allegedly murdered friends were indeed fish.

  It is thereby concluded by the prosecuting attorney that Mr. Whitmore’s alleged acts of violence against Mr. Kevin Monroe and Mrs. Sally Monroe appear unprovoked and are indefensible. Furthermore, Mr. Whitmore has admitted to the killings, but he feels his actions were justified.