Two figures stared out into the darkness that surrounded the building they stood in. The more annoyed of them finally broke the silence with “If you don’t run your patrol now I’ll stick you both on latrine duty for as long as we’re all stuck here.”
This elicited a ruffling of newspaper and a heavy sigh from the third occupant of the room, and a complaint: “But I’m comfortable here, and nothing ever happens. It’s just dark and…the noises… out there.”
The youngest, most naive of the three looked between the others, and added “Didn’t someone escape a few months ago? Maybe we should…”
The newspaper was thrown on a desk. “We still don’t know how. We’re pretty sure he didn’t get out that way. He couldn’t have snuck onto a caravan or into a shipment, but there’s sure as hell no way he got past the ghosts.”
The first speaker rolled his eyes and gave a calming shoulder clap to the young one in response to the widened eyes. “There’s no such thing as ghosts. You know as well as I do what’s out there, and they don’t come close.”
His jacket donned, his weapons checked, the newspaper reader scoffed at his superior. “Whatever. There’s going to be fuck all out there, just like every patrol I’ve done since being shitcanned to here. Let’s go, Johns.”
The younger man had already gotten his kit together and followed out the door, holding the lantern. “What was that about ghosts, anyway?”
The response was measured, “You just got here, didn’t you? Well you see…” The voices disappeared into the dark, and the superior officer took up the newspaper. “Finally.” He ignored the strange noises that came from the northeast. Better not to think about those.
Return to Vignettes.