Lost Signals

by Josh Malerman

  So we’re going to drive back to the sea, and we’re going to wade in. I’m going to take Sharon to the sky beneath the Salton Sea, show her the stars, the world below our world. I’m going to get it all back. The singing, the sound, her voice, us, all of it. There’s nothing left for us here. What broke us once will make us whole again. I’m going to find the crack in everything and shatter it, blow it wide open, dive through.

  Last night, I dreamed of the last page of that journal we found in the yacht club, that page of spirals that I was certain were the scribblings of a madman. He wasn’t trying to bleed the ink from his pen. He was trying to draw the stars below the waves. It was a map available to anyone brave and insane enough to follow the path. Here is where I’ll be. If you’re looking, here is where you’ll find us.

  There were explosions in the distance. The sound was distant, a faint rambling, but he could see the lights. They were bombing . . . something. From the roof of the palace, he could see a whole lot of nothing. Kabul was somewhere over those mountains.

  Daniel Shaw walked the perimeter of the roof and then went downstairs. It was getting cold. It wasn’t even his shift ; he just liked how quiet it was up there. The marines on guard duty knew it and never bothered him or tried to talk.

  He met Stafford coming down the stairs. Both men nodded, but said nothing.

  Stafford was a loudmouth redneck who liked to talk shit. Daniel had thrown him through a plate glass window back when they were on base, for saying he fucked his girl.

  He reached the courtyard, which was deserted. The palace was mostly a ruin. Up in these mountains, it held no strategic importance that Daniel could imagine. An Afghani president and his family had been murdered in the Palace in the ’80s. The soviet army had been stationed there during the Soviet-Afghan war. The building had been built on top of the ruins of a castle dating back centuries. Now it was occupied by jarheads.

  Their detachment was made up of fuck-ups and head cases. The discards. And Daniel Shaw was their king.

  He stood for a moment, untied his shoelaces and shook his boots out. Small mountains of sand formed on the courtyard stones. He glanced at his watch, the hands glowing in the dark. He crossed the courtyard and went up the stairs on the other side. This was his last stop for the night before racking out.

  The comms room actually had four walls, which was more than you could say for most of the rooms in the Palace. They had done some patchwork, using old furniture and planks, but it hadn’t helped a whole lot.

  Nick Kocher spent his days in here, sweating profusely and listening to the radio. He rarely had anything to say to it. He pulled long shifts, letting the backup slack off. Not all of the soldiers knew why, but Daniel did.

  “Anything tonight ?” he asked.

  Kocher’s eyes looked wild. Daniel guessed it had something to do with all the caffeine pills he was chewing, but there were other things, too.

  “Yeah,” he said.

  “Well ?”

  “Oh. Yeah. Most of the usual stuff. Espera. He said he’s dead. He’s in the dark. We’re all going to die. The usual.”

  Daniel nodded.

  Espera had died months ago, before any of them had heard of the Palace. It was a short firefight. They found him up on the hill, in the bushes, already dead. A lot of grown-ass men cried that day.

  “Anything else ?” There was always something else. Kocher spent a lot of hours alone up here and he wasn’t always forthcoming on what the radio spit out at him.

  “My mother. You know. She said she’s dead, that there was an accident and she’s dead and everyone else is too.”

  Daniel nodded again. “You call your mother ?” There were a couple of Afghani burner phones in the unit, worth their weight in gold for short calls back home. There were never enough minutes to go around.

  “She’s fine.”

  Kocher was fidgety, but looked okay. He was mostly fine after having talked with his family back home, having heard for himself that they were all right. They found it a bit strange he insisted to talk to each and every one of them, asking intimate questions to verify it was really them. But they had gone along with it, this far.

  Daniel’s earlier call to Kocher’s mom had explained the situation. Sort of.

  “Should I wake Mack up ? It’s his shift, isn’t it ?” Daniel said.

  Kocher shook his head violently. “I’m good for a few more hours.”

  “Nick, you’ve been up for days. Let—”

  “No.”

  “Why do you keep listening, man ? Why not turn it off for a couple of hours ?”

  “Because I’m afraid that the voices will come even with the radio off. That maybe they won’t need it any more.”

  Daniel didn’t know what to say to that.

  “You’re fucked in the head, Kocher. Okay, fine. But you let me know if you get tired, all right ?”

  “Yeah, sure. I will.”

  “Okay.”

  He turned to leave.

  “Hey, Shaw ?”

  “Yeah,” he said, behind his back.

  “I think I heard my sister.”

  “What ?”

  “My kid sister. Talking to me. On the comms.”

  Daniel rubbed his face. “That’s awful, man. You should let Mack take over. You don’t need to do this tonight.”

  “No, no, it’s fine. But stay with me for a while ?”

  Daniel had been up for 48 hours. He was running on fumes and caffeine pills.

  “Sure, Nick. Sure.”

  He pulled up a chair. They sat in silence.

  ***

  Mornings, they spent in the relative shade of the courtyard, strewn about like sea cows on the beach. The heat was intense. The unlucky SOBs on guard duty were doomed to be roasted alive.

  Daniel checked in on Kocher and found him snoring loudly in his cot, jaw and arms clenched. He seemed to whimper now and then.

  Stafford walked by.

  “He been out long ?” he asked and pointed at the sleeping man.

  The marine shook his head.

  “Nah, just an hour ago.”

  “That cocksucker Mack let him take another shift ?”

  “Yeah.”

  James Davis was in the canteen. He was holding a hand fan to his face, unwilling to surrender to the heat. Of course, the rest of him was bathing in sweat, but his head was cool and perspiration-free though and that seemed to be enough for him.

  In his other hand, he was holding a picture of his wife and kid, creased and dirty.

  “Davis,” Daniel said.

  “Hey, man.” James waved his fan around.

  ”Still fighting that fight, huh ?”

  “Yeah, man. Fuck this heat. I’ll never surrender.”

  “How’s the wife ?” He motioned towards the photograph.

  The man beamed.

  “Good, man. My daughter is learning how to walk.”

  “That’s great. That’s really good. Listen, we have to do something about Kocher.”

  “Yeah ?”

  Daniel nodded. “Mack is fine with letting him take over all his shifts, so while he spent the last few days jerking it, Kocher was up there listening to that fucking radio day and night. He’s gone loopy.”

  “Did it say anything ?”

  “Well, yeah. The same spooky shit. But I think it’s getting to him.”

  “So why is he listening to it ?”

  Daniel looked away. “I don’t know, man. I think he’s kind of getting off on it. You know ? Like when your girl cheats on you and you want to know all the disgusting details ? Because it feels good to hurt ?”

  James said nothing for a while, then : “That sounded like you were talking from experience.”

  Daniel shrugged. “Maybe I am. Anyway, we got to either get Mack to do his fucking job or we find someone else to take over.”

  “Why not shut it off ?”

  “You know we can’t do that.”

&nbs
p; “Why not ?”

  “Because we might get our orders. Because we have to check in with command.”

  James scoffed. “We’re not getting shit, man. They forgot we’re out here.”

  Daniel wanted to laugh at him, but he wasn’t feeling very jovial. A small part of his brain was telling him that James might be right. Maybe they had forgotten about them. “You gonna help me with this or not ?”

  “Of course I’ll help you.” He got up. “I just like a little foreplay.”

  “Your mom never asked for it.”

  Neither of them laughed, but he appreciated the effort.

  ***

  Mack was at his post, for once.

  “Hey, Mack,” Daniel said. “We gotta talk.”

  He didn’t move. When Daniel put his hand on his shoulder, he jumped.

  “What the fuck, man !” he yelled and put the headphones down.

  Daniel grabbed him, lifted him off his feet and drove him into the wall. “You fucking asshole.”

  “Whoa-whoa.” James tried to pull him off. “Calm the fuck down, ladies !”

  “This jackass is wearing earplugs,” Daniel said.

  Suddenly, James didn’t feel like helping. Mack held his hands up in surrender.

  “I’m sorry. I was taking a break, okay ? You wanna get your hands off me ?”

  He let him go.

  “You’re supposed to listen to the fucking radio, Mack. That’s your fucking job.”

  “Fuck you. My job ain’t to listen to some fucking ghost talking to me—”

  “Keep your voice down” James said.

  “No man, fuck both of you. You wanna come do this ? I don’t see you volunteering.”

  They didn’t answer.

  “That’s what I thought,” Mack said, smoothing down his uniform.

  Daniel threw the headphones at him.

  “Just do your fucking job, asshole.”

  ***

  They woke up to the sound of a gunshot. They scrambled, in their briefs, to grab their rifles and run to their posts.

  Daniel ran up to the roof. He met Stafford running down the stairs.

  “What the fuck is going on ?”

  “I don’t know ! There’s nobody out there.”

  “Did it come from inside ?”

  “I don’t fucking know !”

  They both ran back down and out into the courtyard.

  “Davis ! Where are the shots coming from ?”

  “There’s nobody out there, man ; everybody was at their posts. They didn’t see shit.”

  Daniel looked around the courtyard, at the marines gathered, confusion in their eyes.

  “Where’s Kocher ?” Daniel asked.

  They looked at each other.

  In the tiny room, Kocher sat slumped in his chair, the gun still hanging in his limp hang.

  “God damn it.” Daniel punched the wall and instantly regretted it.

  “Fuck,” James said.

  “I’m gonna kill that piece of shit.” Daniel pushed through the crowd of men. “Where is he ?” He pulled out his firearm and went looking.

  He caught sight of him between two doorways, darting.

  “Come back here, you piece of shit !”

  Instead of chasing after him, Daniel took a right and circled around. He caught the man by the throat as he stepped into the corridor.

  He put the gun under his jaw.

  “Open your fucking mouth.”

  “Fuck you.”

  He let go of his throat and grabbed his face, forcing his mouth open. Then he pushed the muzzle in.

  “You couldn’t do your job, could you ?”

  The man stank of sweat and fear. It revolted him.

  “You couldn’t even finish that one shift, could you, you fucking coward.”

  The soldiers were on him before he could decide if he was going to pull the trigger or not. He let them drag him away.

  ***

  They let him cool off up in the roof, under guard. As much as Davis could be considered to be guarding him.

  James had been forced to explain to the rest of the marines what was going on. He thought it’d be harder to explain, harder to convince them, but they had gone along with it easily enough.

  The dead were talking to them through the radio.

  The stories had been going around anyway. Some of them had caught snatches of conversations that Kocher had had. Others had been told by the ones in the know.

  Out here, it was easy to believe in anything.

  Shaw and Davis spent the morning talking shit about people they used to know, back when they were civilians, back when they were still in basic, back when they were actually part of the war.

  Then they went downstairs for the funeral.

  Out back, the marines had dug a hole deep enough to prevent the jackals from digging him up. They broke a chair and made a wooden cross. Gave his dog tags to Daniel.

  Radio to command had gotten no response. There was no medevac. They argued about sending him to a nearby base on a Humvee, but decided against it. They were technically behind enemy lines.

  So they put him in the ground in the Palace. James said some words, though Daniel didn’t think he was religious. He knew scripture though. He was a preacher’s son.

  Later, they shared a smoke over the grave.

  “This desert is going to eat all of us,” James said, and walked off.

  ***

  Daniel woke up in a bed full of sand. He got up, dusting himself off, and met Stafford on his way to the comms.

  “What the fuck happened to you ?”

  “Sand, man. It gets fucking everywhere.”

  Stafford shook his head.

  “No shit.”

  Someone had gotten the dubious honor of cleaning up the radio equipment. There was still a stain on the wall. Sand had covered up the blood on the floor. He guessed the stain was going to stay there for some time.

  “Well, if this place wasn’t haunted before, it sure as fuck is now,” Daniel said to the empty room.

  “At least this one’s on our side,” James said from behind him, making him jump.

  “God damn it, Davis.”

  “What, jumpy already ?” He laughed.

  “You’re an asshole. You wanna do this ?”

  “Hell no. Good luck.” He left Daniel to his task.

  “The days are easy . . .”

  He put the headphones on.

  ***

  There was nothing but static for most of the afternoon. Then came the voices. He couldn’t tell if they were in Pashto, or English or what. They were fading in and out, all of them talking at once. Gunfire in the background.

  He didn’t try to reply. He knew this part.

  Then, later, came another voice, clearer. American.

  “Darkhorse Six, come in.”

  That wasn’t command reaching out to them. He recognized the voice.

  “Palace here, receiving.”

  “How are ya, Daniel ?”

  “Hey Espera. How’s the dirt treating you ?”

  “Can’t complain. It’s better being dead than being alive. The worst has already happened.”

  “Yeah.” He was clutching the mic, knuckles white.

  “I’ll tell you what, man, catching that bullet in the throat wasn’t fun, but it’s a lot fucking better than what’s coming for you guys.”

  Daniel coughed. His throat was always dry. He spat on the stones between his boots. Was that blood ?

  Just sand.

  “You feeling all right, Daniel ?”

  He’d heard the voices before, but it was still hard to understand. Everyone has heard weird stories about the desert and the ruins that litter it. But it was always someone they knew, who had heard it from someone else. You never met the guy who had lived through it.

  At first, they figured they were getting pranked by another unit, or that there was a seriously fucked up PSYOP that the Afghanis were using o
n them. Having their dead friend talk to them. That’s how it started ; with Espera. But then the other voices came in. People they knew, dead and alive. Then, they had believed.

  And like jarheads would, they took it in stride.

  “I got someone here, wants to talk to you.”

  Daniel said nothing. The voices never got tired. Never gave up. There was no reason to converse with them, to take the bait.

  “Say hi, Jackie,” Espera said.

  “Hi, baby,” the voice came from the radio, crystal clear. The girl he’d left behind. Who had in turn, left him behind.

  “You’re not Jackie,” Daniel said.

  “I miss you.”

  He gritted his teeth. There was sand in his mouth.

  “I do, I really do. I’m sorry we had that fight.”

  “We didn’t have a fight. You fucked that guy from work. For months.”

  “Oh. Him. You don’t have to worry about him, baby.”

  “I don’t. I don’t give a shit about either one of you. I dumped your ass months ago.”

  Why am I arguing with a ghost ? He shook his head.

  “He’s dead, baby. You have nothing to be jealous of.” She was crying. “Actually, we both are. We were being naughty on the interstate and then we hit the median.”

  He felt like throwing up.

  “Cops said the car disintegrated. It was pretty funny.” She giggled.

  “I don’t care.”

  “You should.”

  He didn’t respond.

  “I was three months pregnant. It wasn’t his. I’ll always be your girl, Daniel. Always.”

  He got up on shaky legs and walked down to the courtyard. He’d have to wait ’til morning to call her.

  ***

  Kocher’s suicide had set off something in them. They found two marines hanging in the showers, buck naked and wrists slit.

  Daniel still hadn’t called his ex-girlfriend. She was probably fine. The voices always tried to trick you. Tried to mess with your head.

  It probably said something about him that his ego wouldn’t let him call her up and ask if she was okay.

  Ask if maybe she was pregnant. And how far along.

  Someone would have called me, right ?

  They sure found the time to tell him his girl was fucking around on him a few months back.

  He put the cheap cellphone back in his rucksack. He hadn’t managed to get any real sleep, but he needed to stretch his legs.