Fall left as quick as it arrived. In a matter of days, the auburn shrubs that dotted the coastline lay bare. A week later the town lay under a thick blanket of snow. It feels like yesterday that I was laying on the beach with Anna, breathing in the warmth of a setting sun. Every moment feels fleeting, as if I’ll wake up 20 years from now with no memory of the life I’ve lived. Things are bleak when darkness reigns supreme.
Three days ago, Aldan and I left the house before sunrise, which doesn’t mean much anymore. We made our way down toward the harbor, passing dark windows that were once aglow in candlelight. The stockpiles of random goods the town pooled together are gone. Now we get ready in the dark, with only the waning light of the moon to assist. As we walked through the street, several doors closed to our right. Muffled conversation broke through the silence as silhouettes moved about in the shadows. Smoke rose from a few chimneys in the distance.
We arrived at the pier and started loading empty barrels back onto the boat. It’s mindless work that I can now do in my sleep. Halfway through, I found myself wandering through space and time, thinking about Oki. Each day that goes by moves me further from my past and even now, the memories feel hazy. Anna understands my struggle, but part of me doubts whether she would still be here if she had other options. I can’t fault her for that. This is a difficult situation for everyone.
Aldan’s voice snapped me out of my day dream. I glanced over as the last of his words drifted up toward the sky, dissipating into the ether. I nodded, finished loading the last of barrels, untied from the pier and pushed off.
The ride out was smooth yet unsettling. Good weather never lasts and the next big storm always looms beyond the horizon. It’s a constant source of stress that is only compounded as winter approaches.
I dropped the nets, watching them disappear into the darkness below. The engine cut out. Before I could react, Aldan raced by me to the front of the boat. I looked up to see him pointing to the east. I stood, stretched my aching back, and walked over to him. A shape was taking form in the early morning hours. I squinted. It was larger than anything anchored in the harbor, but it was too dark to tell what it was. We watched it for a few more minutes before circling back around and pulling the nets.
Another hour passed and the object still hadn’t moved. With the sun up, we were able to get a better view and decided it wasn’t an iceberg, which was our first guess. I peered through a pair of binoculars while the object drifted with the currents. Behind me, the motor turned over. I glanced back to see Aldan push the throttle forward, steering toward the object. “It’s a yacht”, he said.
As we got closer, its size became evident. It dwarfed our tiny fishing boat by orders of magnitude. I had never seen anything like it.
We pulled up alongside and cut the engine. Nothing moved aside from our two boats bobbing up and down in the middle of an empty ocean. Aldan reached into a box and fastened a hook to a rope. He swung it a few times and released, sending it careening upward toward the deck. On the third try, the hook snagged the railing. Aldan gave it a quick tug, then weighted it to see what happened. Everything seemed solid, but neither of us jumped at the opportunity to be first aboard. We decided to play rock paper scissors to see who went up first. Aldan lost, but didn’t move. I grabbed the rope and shimmied up.
Other than a few birds circling above, there were no signs of life. I looked over at Aldan and wondered if he could hear my heart beat.
A few minutes passed while neither of us moved. I broke the silence and pointed up to the bridge, suggesting we should go take a look. Aldan nodded and we set off in search of the stairs. When we arrived at the door, it was stuck. I tried to peer through the windows but they were fogged over on the inside. There were scratch marks on the door. It appeared we weren’t the first people to try and break in. It took both of us kicking before the door burst open. The smell hit us immediately.
I covered my face and peered in. Decomposed bodies were strewn about, sunken eyes, mouths agape. A couple were sitting in chairs, one was laying across the control panel. I counted seven figures before getting light headed. Aldan ran to the railing and retched overboard. I backed away and closed the door, holding down what little food I had in my stomach. I sat down next to Aldan, who finished wiping his face. I tried to crack a joke, but it fell flat. The worry on Aldan’s face was as clear as the blue sky above. I stood up, helped him to his feet, and we continued exploring the rest of the ship.
Some of the cabins had bodies in them, others were vacant. We surveyed the entire vessel, finding only two rooms we couldn’t force open. We raced back to the harbor and started rummaging through the tool shed. Finnr came out, puzzled about why we were home. When Aldan explained what we found, he grabbed the cutting torch and walked toward the boat. An hour later we were back on deck.
Aldan and I flanked Finnr as the plasma torch cut through the first steel door. Soon we were staring into a room filled with plastic packages of food. I rubbed my eyes, thinking it was some sort of hallucination, but it wasn’t. My heart started racing. Aldan and I reached out to grab whatever was closest but Finnr’s shout stopped us in our tracks. He didn’t even have to explain himself. We both knew the town would divvy up the supplies.
We left the food storage and dragged the torch down the walkway to the other door. Aldan and I shielded our eyes as Finnr started cutting around the lock. Our anxious anticipation cut short the second the door swung opened. The scene before us left little to the imagination. There were two bodies, both decomposed, but one of the bodies had chunks of flesh missing from parts of the leg. His head caved in on the side. Dried blood smeared across the walls and splattered on the floor, pooling in the corner. It took a few seconds for me to realize what had happened and a few more for the shock to set in.
Finnr closed the door as best he could and started making an inventory of what was on the ship. While he wandered about, Aldan and I climbed back down to the fishing boat and prepared for the slow journey back to land. I suggested getting more boats to help with the tow, but Finnr said there was a storm coming and left it at that.
We arrived home later that night. As we walked through town, Finnr suggested we take the next day off, which was a relief. It was normal to work long hours, but the emotional toll that day left me exhausted. When I woke up the next morning, I looked outside and could see the yacht anchored a few hundred yards off-shore. It dwarfed all the other boats in the harbor. A large crowd gathered on the docks.
I slid out of bed and went downstairs. Finnr and Halla must have gone down to the docks to help with the sorting. I sat down at the table and stared out the window. Faint traces of breath curled up through my eyeline. Aldan’s door creaked open. His footsteps were light. I could see him in my periphery. I didn’t look at him and continued to stare. He came toward me, set something on the table, walked back into his bedroom and shut the door. Without moving my head, I glanced down.
It was a twinkie, or at least something that looked like a twinkie. The writing on the wrapper was in Icelandic but its shape was unmistakable.
I hesitated.
Peering out the window, the crowd down by the docks was smaller. I walked down and stood on the edge. Finnr was in the middle, talking to a few members of the town council. I caught his attention and waved him over. After handing off his inventory list, he shuffled over toward me, looking a bit flustered. When he got close, I grabbed his arm and placed the twinkie in the palm of his hand. He looked at me, unflinching, refusing to break eye contact. I reluctantly looked up at him, shrugged and looked back down at my feet. I couldn’t be sure, but for a split second I thought I could see the sides of his mouth turn up into a smile. He left before I could verify.
As I walked back toward the house, a feeling came over me. Despite the freezing temperatures, it was a warmth that I hadn’t felt in a while, since before I arrived.
I felt like I was home.