Ashford

I reach the campsite, the safe haven that is the campsite. I feel no trepidation because I have been here before. This is where I should be; this is where I must be. I go in.

Ashford is sitting on a log, his face distant and his eyes filled with regret. "I'm sorry," he says.

I say nothing.

"Joseph, right? My name's Ashford, Ashford Stempel." He looks me up and down. "I'm sorry, I didn't think you would make it." He laughed in a fit of regret.

"Why are you telling me your full name now?" I asked.

"Because a full name doesn't do much good here if you know the person's ain't going to make it." He answered bluntly.

"So why tell me your first name before?" I ask again.

"Because a first name is the equivalent to a call sign here." His voice was cold, raspy in its gritted tone.

"Joseph, look," he motioned his hands, "A name is nothing more of an investment in an individual than putting money into a promising business here." He pointed at me, "It isn't a promise of safety, but it is a promise of help." He paused. "We are all of the same kind. We only have one choice. And a name is merely a way for people to pin their blame on something that its choice."

He stood up and moved to a place some distance away from me. "I shouldn't have said that."

Ashford stopped looking at me and he began to shake his head. He sat and buried his head in his hands.

"Just leave me alone." he said.

I sat with him and listened. The whole time he was silent, it was an odd feeling. I felt this sense of powerlessness. I felt as if nothing could break his silence. Ashford continued to sit. His knees began to vibrate from the tremors within. He put his head in his hands and shook for some time. "I'm sorry," he finally said.

I didn't say anything, but the cold of silence between us was palpable.

He went on, "We used to call it survival, or resistance. It was easy. In the beginning, they let us keep our memories. They thought it would make our suffering great, but nobody wanted to fight. With our memories, we knew who we were, knew where we stood. So they forced us to play Russian roulette with our heads to walls, killed us off until one of us remain - That one being me. That was the first trial they ever did."

"Who?" I asked.

"They go by many names: the observers, the entities, the void-gazers. All the same, they just switch their name once in a while." He stood and grabbed the firewood. "They come in the form of all kinds of creatures. They are of all different shapes and forms. Some are humanoid, some are not. It doesn't matter." Ashford said.

"They all do the same thing. They collect our memories, so they can learn. They do not have power, nor can they fight. They can only watch. If you kill them all, they come back. It's impossible."

Ashford was silent. "I don't want to be used by them." he finally said. "They can break down a person, they can steal everything away from you. And with nothing they have no power over you. You can't trust them."

I did not trust him. I could not trust him. I couldn't help but wonder how long he had been here. For a while I listened as he talked. When he finished he began to pick more wood and I did not ask. He began to move around the campsite, taking firewood with the grace of a professional. As we both worked, I watched him. I didn't look at him. It was clear that he needed therapy, but he was doing well. He was doing better than many of us, and he was doing it alone.

He began to put the fire together, a simple task but one that he seemed to be skilled in. He had done this many times before. I wondered where he had learned. As he worked I watched him. He seemed like a real person, not a hollow shell of a man. For a few moments he had felt the same as me, but as I began to see his memories return he began to separate himself. He began to see that he was different. I felt so sad for him, but I also knew I had to respect what I had been given. I had to have faith. He finished assembling the fire and I picked up some of the firewood, but the feeling was gone. I didn't know how to talk to him anymore.

I don't know what to say.