2023

July 18, 2023

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. Sounds like the start of a horror story, doesn’t it? The reality is, it’s me. There is no more electricity for the public and I am doing everything I can to transform this abandoned cabin into a safe haven, an acceptable homestead. I finally reinforced the stairs enough to explore the attic and found this typewriter and some paper there (and a few jars of canned peaches–I think it’s peaches, at least). I’m grateful for this typewriter as it helps me to maintain the ability to communicate in this desolate situation. There are a few people I think I can count on to help with this place, but I have yet to fully trust them enough to let them know where I spend my time.

People will do anything for safe shelter anymore. Before sharing it with anyone, I have to build up space, safety, and utility. Establish myself as the rightful owner and leader of the land. My ability to build this as a fortress is my gateway to owning the position of alpha. Something my slender frame cannot accomplish on its own. I am anything but intimidating.

Last year, this country made the mistake of getting involved in a war that it did not belong in, and the nukes were launched. So much of the land was ruined, and our society is being slowly executed as the government continues to fight the established regime they so stupidly stood against in the first place. My government is still power hungry and instead of establishing unity amongst the people, which could lead to a strong force to potentially fight back against the communists, they are taking advantage of us, using the last of their power to accumulate wealth amongst the ruins. We as a population are fighting each other, a result of years of polarization, scientifically constructed illness, and racial disparity. And they insisted this wasn’t planned.

Before this nuclear launch had transpired, I was working as a foreman in an unionized construction crew. I lived very modestly, and saved up my money for years. I couldn’t keep a girlfriend–I refused to go out to restaurants, drove a beat up Ford pickup truck, and often wore the same free t-shirts until there were holes in the armpits. I just knew that saving my money would prove to be wise, and if a lady couldn’t see that, then she wouldn’t be for me. I can’t say I’m not lonely though, it would be nice to have someone pretty to look at amongst these ruins, someone to talk me down from my bouts of raised testosterone and stupidity. Someone to share this realized wisdom with. Someone to share safety and these peaches with. But alas, that is not the case. I saved up a great deal of wealth, so when this all went down, and I realized that there is no work or safety left for anyone other than soldiers, I took my savings (which I had buried in lunch boxes in these very woods–smart on my part as the banks collapsed with the electricity outage), went into the standing government office, and laid claim to this abandoned cabin. It took up most of the money I had left, which was not surprising, as the government gobbled up all the existing solid structures in the area for use as barracks and enemy torture camps. There was basically nothing else left; this one would cost too much to fix up for it to be of any interest to the government, though that doesn’t stop them from taking any money they can gobble up from their grief-stricken citizens.

This cabin has a decent frame, and is the last standing structure for miles that I know about. I had grown up witnessing its decay, as it is only a few miles from where my family’s hunting cabin had stood before a failed fireworks attempt burnt it to the ground. Oh what I would give to go back to that day and withhold my lighter from my idiot cousin. What I would give to have my family with me now. I haven’t been able to find them since the explosion 6 months ago.

The spot where my family cabin stood has turned into a popular campsite for the masses. Fortunately for me, the trail leading to this cabin is buried by years of overgrowth, and is only accessible from memory and a willingness to risk poison oak. The masses are wild. I call them the wild ones. They are angry, and even though they are gathered as a group, seem to be more lonely than I am. I’ve spied on them when looking for connection, an important aspect of civilized humanity that is quickly diminishing from sight. They fight each other until they are bloody, and unlike war camps of the past, don’t seem to really look out for one another. It looks caveman, primitive, reminiscent of Lord of the Flies. The leaders and alphas get the food. The women are objectified and look more like property than people. The children are taught to gather, not to communicate. There is so much rage. Everything around them continues to look more and more like rubble, less and less like community.

One day, a couple weeks after purchasing this cabin, while high up in a tree looking for resources, a few others spotted me. I think they were doing the same thing I was, as they were far more civilized. They meekly waved when we met eyes, instead of launching into attack. It was a group of 3: A middle-aged male, a teenage boy, and an adult woman. They were equally as turned off by the camp-group as I was, and were looking for a safe haven. They told me they had built a shelter of branches deep in the woods, the woman was an expert forager, the man was strong, and the teenager was accomplished with archery from years of practice in his school. We decided to meet once a week, but we never told each other exactly where our shelter stands, in fact, I lied and told them I had managed to scavenge an old pop up tent to live in. Better safe than sorry. I didn’t want to entice them to follow me, and I never attempted to search for their dwelling, either, partially out of respect for their safety and partially out of focus for bettering my own.

Currently, I am watching the pillar candle burn in my window, the ledge is the safest surface I have other than the floor. Sitting it up higher on the ledge instead of the floor allows me to see more around me. It’s about halfway down from when I began lighting it two nights ago. I have a few more to burn for the following nights, but since I know I only have about two weeks worth of candle light remaining, I am fermenting leaves into a fuel meant to burn. Emptied a jar of this peach preserve that can safely hold some fuel and a wick to produce lasting light. I currently only need a few hours of light each night since it is summer after all.

Today, I reinforced a few walls and the stairs with abandoned lumber I’ve been collecting from burned down stores in the city limits, built a water well using old plastic totes as a collection source, and finally built a comfortable bed using cloth and old bedding I grabbed from the side of the roads as I traveled to and from these woods. There is a safe parking spot about a half mile from my door: close enough to carry the wares in slowly, but far enough to keep my perimeter secure and hidden. I am very far away from the old city, at least 30 miles, and that feels safer, even with my dwindling gasoline, as I know the radiation continues to permeate and poison the land. The soldiers are staying there, and seem to be getting more aggressive by the minute–either from the toxins or from their lack of sleep. This war is a losing battle, but our government refuses to give up until we are all dead and our land is nothing better than Chernobyl. Tomorrow I will meet up with that three person group. We’ve met two times now. If they offer to show me their setup, I will be able to assess whether or not I can trust them. This cabin is spacious, and has plenty of room for them and several others. And I could really use some extra help. With her foraging ability, his hunting ability, and the man’s strength, we could form one of the few civilized groups in the area. Begin to establish order amongst this chaos, reach for elements of the old way of life that I so miss. Make things easier. I fell while reinforcing the stairs today and think I may have sprained my ankle. Help would be very welcome. Peaceful company would be enough, too.

The stars and moon are getting brighter. I am signing off for tonight. Very thankful to have found this typewriter, maybe someone will read this one day. That gives me hope, makes me feel less alone to know that my words might be read by another human, even if it’s at a different time. Here’s to you reading this. I hope things are better now.

Signed,

Todd

Todd stopped typing for the night. Tears spilled from the corners of his eyes as he tucked away his typewriter, imagining how nice it would be to have regular human contact. He had been alone since his family died in the explosion 6 months ago, his few friends gone too. He limped over to his forged mattress, exhausted from his day of labor, and plopped down. It was his first night of sleeping on something other than the floor, and this lumpy mattress felt like a cloud in comparison to that. When he shut his eyes, he fell into a deep slumber.

He didn’t know it, but the candle and his placement of the mattress near the stairs would prove to be his detriment. One of the boards was not fully secure, specifically the board he had been trying to hammer in when he took the fall that led to his sprain. Although he blew out the candle before falling asleep, its glow was bright and visible for long enough that the wild ones were finally able to locate his dwelling. They had been watching his truck drive by for weeks, but had not been sure of his hideout until tonight, when they noticed the faint glow between a few branches.

This would be his final night on Earth as the wild ones would invade his home, ransacking and breaking down the door until the building shook, loosening the board just enough for it to fall and land on his neck, cutting off his breath. The shock of it would wake him for a few final breaths, just enough time to open his eyes and see that the hopeful friends were part of the crowd. They were the ones that had led the others to him. They were the brains of the wild ones, an aspect he was too self-righteous to even consider. He would, in fact, die completely alone in this desolate world.

His letter would be found about a decade later, after the communists took over and began clearing the land for the reinstatement of the gulag system. It would be read and then tossed into a burn pile, forgotten with the rest of what was once American civilization.