Breaker Whiskey

Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday. ------ [TRANSCRIPT] [click, static] So, today I asked Donnie what he remembered about me. I thought you all might enjoy an update. At first he, of course, turned the question around on me. I don’t think he heard my entire transmission the other day talking about it, about feeling safe around him, but he knows I’ve talked a little about everyone—and yeah, I think I’m okay to talk about my perception of Don, and how accurate it is, and still respect his rule that I don’t reveal too much about him or his life. Huh? [click, static] Yeah, he says it’s fine, as long as I’m being honest about what the says about me. Which is fair. And— [click, static] (laughing) I’ll take that as a compliment. Don says I’m a regular Jean Shepherd. Maybe that’s not a cultural reference that’ll land with everyone, I think he may have just been a New York guy—he had this radio show on WOR, for us “night people”. That’s what he calls—called—all of us who were fighting against the…what was it? [click, static] —that’s right, yeah. The “creeping meatballism”. Of course you remember that. Mediocrity, basically. And the celebration of it. Shep could talk and talk and talk and he’d talk about everything from his childhood in Indiana to railing against cultural conformity and, yeah, I guess I get the comparison. What can I say, I get why he did this for so many years. There’s something to speaking all your thoughts into a radio. But back to the point I’m trying to make—Don is basically who I remember him being. Yeah—I remember you being pretty easy-going and warm, when you know someone at least, but when you’re serious about something, you’re serious. There’s no arguing with you or talking you out of it. You also deflect questions about yourself or your feelings with humor, which— [click, static] Okay, yeah, that’s fair, I do that too. But you remember me differently than I was. I’m still pretty straight-forward, and I don’t take shit from you, which you always liked, but it’s…easier to be around me. Don’t shake your head, that’s right! You said I used to be harder. That living here, with Harry, has made me soft. What? [click, static] —not right now. Because I don’t want to— Okay, clearly there’s a reason Shep didn’t have a co-host. I think I’ll call it there. So goodnight, dear night people. Goodnight. [click, static]

Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday. ------ [TRANSCRIPT] [click, static] You know, it’s so funny how people don’t change, even in the kind of extraordinary circumstance we’re in. The apocalypse, an empty world, seven years of trying to find each other and Donnie still cannot wake up before ten AM. I don’t know when I became an early riser. I thought it was one of those things that just happened as you got older, but it clearly doesn’t happen to everybody. Donnie’s older than me and he still sleeps like a teenager. I…I’m not sure where to begin in talking about him. We spent hours yesterday, sitting at the kitchen table and shooting the shit. We had a hell of a lot to catch up on. I know you might be curious, whoever you are, what Don was up to all this time. But that’s another thing he wants to keep to himself. I’m not sure why—from what he’s told me, it’s not like there’s anything particularly of note from the last seven years, aside from the particulars of surviving—but I’m going to respect his choice. I guess that’s another way that he hasn’t changed—you spend decades keeping certain information siloed from one part of your life and other information siloed from another part and that just becomes…normal. That was a bit of a theme among the crew, I guess. Pete was incredibly secretive about his home life—where he lived, who he lived with. He could’ve had a wife and kids for all we knew. Don didn’t talk much about his family, even though he saw them all the time, and they didn’t know about us; even Harry’s parents were still around, in New York no less, but I didn’t even know that until we were here. As far as they were concerned, she was a up-and-coming painter, which wasn’t untrue just…incomplete. But besides being nostalgic about Chicago sometimes, Richie seemed to be like me — his whole life was one complete piece. Maybe that’s why we always got together at his place. And I guess we each had people—girlfriends, mostly—who we didn’t introduce to our…professional life, but I’m not sure either of us really took pains to hide it. Or, ever got very serious or committed in those parts of our lives. I’m not good at compartmentalizing I don’t think. I guess that goes hand in hand with the way I tend to fixate on a particular thing or person, but I just don’t know how all of them could stand to lead such different lives depending on who they’re with. I don’t share Don’s inclination toward privacy, even knowing that talking on here might eventually lead to my ruin. Not that I’ve told you everything. Not everything I have told you is true. But I don’t feel like I’m hiding when I talk on here. That said…god, it is different talking to Don. (laughs) I mean, christ, it’s—it’s so good. To talk to someone who talks back, to talk to someone who knows me. I don’t have to explain certain things, I don’t have to make excuses for who I am or what I do. Not that I—well, I think I have done that a little, to you. Not knowing who I’m talking to, well, it makes me want to be a better version of myself, one who had a…I don’t know, dignified job. One who contributed to the world in a positive way instead of breaking it. Don, god bless him, does not seem that pissed about the fact that he’s here because of me. Don’t get me wrong, he hates being here, he’s furious he is, but when I explained everything—my theory that killing Billings created some sort of branching timeline that we’re all stuck in, everyone who was affected by that action—he…he got it. He got why I did what I did. And he doesn’t blame me for it. After all, how the hell would I have known what would happen? There is…there is some comfort to be taken in that. When he asked—I...

Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday. ------ [TRANSCRIPT] [click, static] So…I found him! I fucking found him. I don’t even— [click, static] The whistling. I thought I was losing my mind at first. It was so weak, and kept going out before I could catch all of it but I knew— I mean, that’s our whistle. Our lookout whistle. Who else could it be but Don? And after all this time and so many attempts to find Birdie or…or anyone, driving around until the signal got stronger actually fucking worked. I— what? [click, static] (calling out off mic) —because I have to! Just—hold on a sec, okay? Sorry, he— Don doesn’t get why I’m telling the radio this news when there’s a guy out there trying to kill me but I want Harry to know and I— I want you to know. I don’t—I’m not sure who you are in this scenario. Maybe Birdie, my first friend in this world, even if I’m not sure they are a friend. Maybe… Look, the fact that my transmissions got all the way to Harry when I was in fucking Los Angeles…maybe…maybe other people are out there, hearing me. If there’s even the slightest chance— [click, static] —(off mic) you could just tell them yourself. (to the mic) Alright. (off mic) Yeah, that’s fine, just let me finish— [click, static] Donnie refuses to come onto the radio. Apparently whistling is as much as he’s willing to reveal about what he sounds like. So those “morse code freaks” don’t have more intel on him. He’s also requested that I stop talking about him and his family on here. Which I will do. But I’m still…well, I think you deserve to know, dear listener, what it’s like to finally be with someone after all this time. God, I still can’t believe it. I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy. It’s like every holiday ever all at once. Like I’ve been walking through the desert for years and finally, finally stumbled on an oasis. [click, static] Don’s laughing at being called an oasis. (off mic) Yeah, I would never have guessed it either! (to mic) Sorry, things are a little chaotic, clearly. I—well, I’m going to go have a goddamn conversation with a goddamn human being, in person and everything. So…signing off. [click, static]

Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday. ------ [TRANSCRIPT] [click, static] Except I don’t, remember? Because I had to abandon the car that I’d been driving and all the supplies I’d built up over the last few months after the last time Junior tried to kill me. [click, static] “You have gun too”…I swear to fucking god. What is your game Fox? Who are you? Are you just bored? Has my intrepid journey through the country not been enough entertainment for you? Are you hoping to manipulate me into some kind of OK Corral final stand? It’s not going to work. I don’t have a gun anymore and even if I did, I wouldn’t—I will defend myself, and I’ll defend Harry, but I’m going to do everything in my power to avoid a situation in which I would have to defend us. Fuck this. Fuck you. I’m—I’m done. Birdie, if you’ve got any opinions or insight on any of this, now would be a great time to pipe up. [click, static] [a strange whistling sound]

Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday. ------ [TRANSCRIPT] [click, static] You said it could be fixed. Weeks ago, Fox you said—I think you only sent the message once, maybe because you were worried Birdie would interfere, but I—I heard it. And I…I couldn’t think about it, couldn’t let myself hope yet, not when I was already so hopeful I would find Don. Was this what you meant by it being fixable? Is my death at the hands of that boy the way to fix this? Did you send me to Junior so that he’d shoot me and everything would go back to the way it was? God, that can’t really be the answer, can it? I know I’ve said—I mean, I’ve wondered. It does make a certain kind of sense—my actions brought us all here, all these people are being collectively punished for something I did or, at the very least, were punted here because of something I didn’t do or…something I would’ve done. I would’ve done something back in the real world that would’ve eventually affected Leann’s life in some way. And because I’m not there… I’m guessing that’s why Don is here too. Because Harry is. And maybe without her, because he wasn’t actually in the building at the time, there wasn’t enough evidence to— [click, static] Why am I even trying to work this all out? What does it matter? We’re here, with each other, and I don’t see how that changes. Because I’m not going to just walk into my own execution, not now, not when I’m on my way to— [click, static] I just don’t believe that the solution to this is going to be in the barrel of an angry boy’s gun. [click, static] [beeps] -.-- --- ..- / .... .- ...- . / --. ..- -. / - --- --- you have gun too

Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday. ------ [TRANSCRIPT] [click, static] (a slight intake of breath) [click, static] Do you think I’m a fucking idiot, Fox? Did you think that you’d earned my trust simply by the virtue of being one of the few people in the world I talk to? Did you think that having sent me Leann’s coordinates before meant I would blindly follow wherever you led? I know I said there was no harm in trying, that it’s good to have hope, but that doesn’t mean that I’m new to this. That doesn’t mean I was going to be fucking stupid about it. [click, static] I think you’ve forgotten who I am. I wasn’t some sort of criminal mastermind, or bad-ass GI Joe, but I spent my life sneaking and thieving and never getting caught. In fact I wouldn’t have been caught if— I’ve been taking care of myself since I was fifteen years old. I’ve learned when to trust people and when not to and I’m fucking good at calculating risk. And maybe I’ve let myself get soft this last year, maybe I’ve wanted to trust a little more than usual but that trust has always been conditional. I don’t know what you’re playing at, but if you were banking on me just driving right up to the coordinates and announcing myself, you’re not very good at whatever you’re trying to do. And I know what you’ll say—maybe Junior just also heard the coordinates and just beat me there. Except I didn’t say how close I was to the coordinates you gave. I was fucking close. And he was already there. I even checked the hood of his car, that stupid VW—it was cold. He’d been there for a while. You sent me to him. You sent me to him and either you knew exactly where he was or you told him where to go first. Because it looked like he was waiting. And he had—he had a gun, Fox, and I’m sure he would’ve shot me on the spot. He was waiting for something. For someone. So I waited too. I watched him for two hours. And you know why I think you told him where to go and then gave me those coordinates? Because he started to talk. I’m not someone who is going to judge someone else for talking to themselves, I would be a fucking hypocrite if I did. But he was…he was yelling. He was yelling for me. He was furious when I didn’t show up. And it…it made him look even more frail. Like the scared little kid he practically is. The gun was shaking in his hand. I doubt he could’ve shot straight if he’d tried. Junior might be inexperienced, he might be ill-equipped, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t dangerous. The way he was shouting, the anger that’s inside him…you don’t have to know what you’re doing to be a threat. [click, static]

Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday. ------ [TRANSCRIPT] [click, static] Maybe it’s fucking foolish of me to even attempt it, but the coordinates aren’t far and the last time I found a dead body—if these are really coordinates of someone alive and I have a chance to get to them before anything happens…I’m not taking that risk. It’s a small diversion but Don didn’t show up at the house. No one did. And maybe…maybe Fox is doing me an actual favor and there will be someone at these coordinates, someone who is alive and well and maybe…maybe it's even Don. Maybe this is how I find him. And if not…well, there’s no harm in trying. There’s no harm in having hope. I’m pretty sure hope is what’s kept me alive this long. [click, static]

Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday. ------ [TRANSCRIPT] [click, static] I think I’m close. To finding Don that is. I got to his uncle’s house and there’s definitely evidence that someone’s been living here. I guess it’s possible that his uncle, or his cousins, were also affected by the ripple, but…how? Don kept what he did from his family. Then again, I still don’t know how Leann ended up here—I have a feeling I’ll never really know. I guess, in the end, it isn’t all that important. She met her fate, and there’s nothing I can do about it now. I just have to live with it. But Don, I can still find him. There’s open cans in this house, the place is in a certain amount of disarray that makes me think…someone’s been here. It’s dusty, but I swear there’s some tracks through the dust, like someone’s walked through. So I’m gonna stay here for the night, and see if he comes back. Or, if whoever lives here comes back. [click, static] I’m sorry for taking too long to get there, Harry. But just think—maybe by the time I drive up to the gallery, I’ll have Don in my passenger seat. It won’t be just us anymore. We’ll actually have someone else to talk to. Someone to mediate, more likely, not that Don is the paragon of diplomacy. But it’ll be good for us, I think. Yeah, it’ll be good for things to not be just us anymore. [click, static] And we—we don’t need to tell him everything, okay? I’ll tell him what happened, why were here—he needs to know, especially with Junior out there. But I won’t tell him what you did unless you decide to. And I’m not sure it’d be the best idea. So…your secret is safe with me. [click, static] [beeps] ....- ..--- / ..--- ..... / ....- ..--- / --... .---- / .---- ....- / ----. 42 25 42 71 14 9

Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday. ------ [TRANSCRIPT] [click, static] I remembered that Don had family in Massachusetts. His uncle and cousins ran a deli in a town called Winchester—the way that man would talk about the sandwiches they’d make…god, what I wouldn’t do for one of them right now. Anyway, I figured it couldn’t hurt to check the place out. He wasn’t at the deli—I didn’t expect him to be, that would’ve been quite the fucking coincidence, but I did find exactly what I was hoping for. An address on an old bill. Presumably, his uncle’s home address. It’s a few towns over, so I’m headed there now. [click, static] This area is nice. I haven’t spent all that time in Massachusetts, at least outside of Boston and Provincetown. But it’s warm and sunny and there’s a little humidity creeping into the air and (deep breath), I don’t know, it’s nice. Despite everything, I’m feeling…hopeful. It reminds me a little of where I grew up. There are more houses and the houses are closer together—I’m sure there are parts of Massachusetts that are rural, but I am squarely in the suburbs. I don’t know, maybe it’s just that spring has finally arrived and the changing of the seasons always makes me think of home. [click, static] Huh. I haven’t thought about my childhood home as home in a long time. Home has been nebulous, ever-changing in my mind. But I guess if I’ve ever had a touchstone, it’s the house I grew up in and…New York City. Touchstones of a different kind. But places that my mind always leaps to if I’m confronted with something that reminds me in the slightest of them. I don’t think you can ever really run away from home. That’s more or less what I did, but it lingers, always. You can never undo the way that you’ve been shaped. You can pour new concrete over the broken sidewalk, but the footprints left on the previous layers will always be there, waiting to be revealed when the fresh new coat eventually erodes. [click, static] (a small laugh) I can hear Harry’s voice in my head correcting my metaphor. Making it about paint—where you grow up is the charcoal sketch and no matter how much you paint over a canvas, the layers and textures are always there. But I don’t know painting. Not that I know concrete but… That’s one of those things I always figured would be the deciding factor in whether or not Harry—I mean, she’s sophisticated, you know? I don’t know if she can hear this up in Maine—I’m sure she can, but maybe she doesn’t have the radio turned on. She’d probably be happy to hear it anyway. That I think of her as sophisticated. But she is. Her secret love for Hank Williams and all. She appreciates fine things, delicate things, beautiful things. And I’m not any of that. I’ve always been rough and blunt—the finest thing I do is picking a lock or breaking a safe and even then, sometimes brute force is the best way forward. Harry is a painting, and I’m a block of concrete. [click, static] God, I hope Don isn’t listening to this. He’d never let me live it down. [click, static]

Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday. ------ [TRANSCRIPT] [click, static] Alright, I’ve done my final checks of all of Don’s regular hideouts and he’s still nowhere to be found. But I’m not giving up hope entirely. I guess I should say they’re my final checks for now. I figure after I go and find Harry we can come back to NY and look together. I realize he might not be in the city anymore, but I don’t know where else to look. And I don’t know, maybe it will be nice for Harry and I to revisit the old spots. Staying in Richie’s loft really has me thinking about all those old times. I think I’ve spent more time in this apartment than any apartment I’ve actually lived in. I guess that’s not true. Maybe spent more time awake than any apartment I ever lived in. Because I only slept over here a few times. But the times were always good, weren’t they. That’s how it feels now anyway. There’s a part of me that knows that can’t possibly be true. The version of Harry in the past, in my thoughts, changes all the time. I remember her at times harsher than she probably actually was and at other times sweeter and more forgiving. And maybe it’s because she was both those things—all of those things, all at once, all the time. Or maybe it’s because my feelings on her continue to change. I don’t remember when I first—I mean, I remember what I thought about her the first time I met her. And I remember what I thought about her when we were in that prison van, driving through the dark. Before I knew what I know now. Before I’d done what I did. But it’s the in between that’s…not hazy, but like a watercolor where all the paints have run together. In the near decade we knew each other before everything happened…I mean, I always felt strongly. When I disliked her, I hated her and when I liked her, I… I don’t remember when it started. I don’t remember when that swirl, that storm of feelings—well, it’s not that it ever went away, but there started to be this thing underneath it, informing everything. At a certain point, when I disliked her, I didn’t hate her anymore, I was just frustrated and tortured. And when I liked her, well, I was also frustrated and tortured. But I don’t know when that started, I don’t know when she became someone who was so far beneath my skin that it didn’t matter what I felt about her moment to moment because it never changed the fundamental truth that I wanted to be around her. Anyway, I don’t know if I’m making sense, it’s late and I’m planning to get up early tomorrow to start driving, but I just couldn’t stop thinking about it, being in this space. I couldn’t stop thinking about if this living room was the place that that feeling first started. I can't stop thinking about my own recollections of Pete and Don and Richie. Were they who I thought they were? Was Pete always this central, stable pillar in my life? This person I could lean on and rely on and who I still didn’t know all that much about. In my mind, he’s been such a morally upstanding figure, somebody that…somebody that I think about when I start to spiral about the things that I’ve done and I just think—Pete. Pete would still stand by me. He’s loyal and he’s good. Then I think, he was a criminal. Just like me. He lied and stole and tricked people. So that image in my head of him being…I don’t know, Captain America is…well, it must not be entirely true. And it’s the same with Don and Richie. I remember them being, well, knuckleheads, but knuckleheads who cared. Who I had started to feel safe around even if in the beginning I wasn't so sure about them. But again, is that just thinking about how I’d feel if I saw them now—that the mere presence of other people...

Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday. ------ [TRANSCRIPT] [click, static] Okay, I think I’m—I’m ready to read this note now. Beyond just the date and the first few lines. “April 6th, 1975 Abigail— I’m okay. If you do find this, I have a feeling you’re going to have questions about the blood. You always have questions about everything. It’s one of your best qualities and also one of your most infuriating. Though I suppose I should be grateful you’ve been dogged in your pursuit of the truth. Maybe this can be repaired.” I don’t know if she means the jacket or… “It’s chicken blood. I am not as capable as you when it comes to butchery.” That’s…that’s as far as I got after finding the note. The relief hit me like a freight train but… I don’t want to be capable of butchery. I know that’s not what you meant but I… Anyway. Moving forward. “I’m sorry I didn’t reach our meeting in time, but after that man came to the house, I went to ground. I heard a car in the distance a few times over the last few days, but I couldn’t be sure it was you. I got the car you left me. And the radio. I’ve been transmitting out regularly but I’m going to guess that you haven’t heard me. That’s what I’m choosing to believe anyway, given I’ve sent you more than a few messages over the months, with no reply. And, yet, somehow, I’ve heard many of your transmissions—not all, and they are very often full of static and breaks in the signal, but you have reached our garage even from Los Angeles.” She crossed out something here. I think it says…(crinkle of paper) "I thought about joining you” but I can’t read the rest. Goddammit, Harry… “Do you remember that one diner that we went to every month for all of ’69? I know that you’ve been to a lot of roadside diners in the last ten months, so maybe they’ve run together in the way that they’re almost purpose built to do. The one down the street, the one we could walk to—we haven’t been back in ages, because I got spooked the one time the neon sign flickered back to life, but we’d carry thermoses of tea and pretend that we were going out for a morning cup, because the monotony of our existence was threatening to destroy us both. Whether you remember it or not, that diner has a working radio. I believe it too spooked me when there was a power surge, even if it was just static. In any case, I’m no longer at that diner, but I was briefly and heard several of your transmissions. There was no way to speak back to you, as it wasn’t that kind of radio, but it was picking up your signal just the same. I’m not in the state anymore. I threw the jacket from the car as I drove out of town, a final ditch attempt to contact you. I had a feeling you would take it with you if you found it, despite the state of it, and just had to hope that you would find these pages sewn inside the lining. I’ll keep transmitting, so we can find a time and place to meet, but there are conversations I don’t want to have over the airwaves, or in a letter. So I’m going to give you instructions now, that I’ll keep repeating on the radio, in the hopes that you’ve found this even if you can’t hear me. Do you remember the show I did up north at that gallery near the water? You’d been in Provincetown with Francis for a few days and he drove the both of you up for the opening. It wasn’t a particularly short journey, but manageable. You both stayed the weekend, at that little B&B that shares its name with one of the planets. I don’t think you thought very much of my show. It was one of my more abstract periods. I know you never cared much for that style, but I do have to wonder if you’d have been more generous to it if you’d known what inspired...

Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday. ------ [TRANSCRIPT] [click, static] She’s alive. I can’t believe it but she— In the Carhartt—I, I put it on after I couldn’t go back to sleep and I was pulling it tight around me when I heard this crinkle—it’s like she knew— It’s fucking chicken blood— I’m sorry, I just need—a need a second, I— [click, static]

Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday. ------ [TRANSCRIPT] [click, static] I woke up in the middle of the night—I’m still at Richie’s loft and I— for a second, I thought I could hear laughter from the other room. When I was very, very small, my parents would have these two couples over for dinner once a month. They would play faro—which is an absolutely ancient game that my mom’s dad used to play with her when she was growing up and, I swear, my parents were the last people in the world to play it— But anyway, they’d have their friends over and we’d all have dinner together and then they’d play cards until about midnight—or at least, it felt like they were up until late, but I guess I was going to bed so early then. But our house wasn't very big and my room was just off the kitchen, the only room where we had a table big enough for six people and I’d fall asleep to the sounds of their murmuring voices. And if I woke up at all, I’d hear that—their hushed laughter, like a warm breeze coming in from the next room. That’s how I feel. In this loft, in Sylvie’s shop, in this whole city—like I’m just the next room over. Maybe I was just dreaming about the times we used to have in this loft, or maybe I really did hear laughter from the living room. Because I’ve heard things before—I’ve seen things. The man in the hotel room in Colorado—I think he really was there. I think our worlds overlapped, just enough, that we got a glimpse. And maybe that’s happening here. Richie isn’t in this loft anymore, not unless he got out early, but there’s something nice, comforting, in thinking that this place, even now, with whoever occupies it, is still filled with joy. [click, static]

Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday. ------ [TRANSCRIPT] [click, static] I went to Sylvie’s shop. She’s still there. I’m—I can’t believe it—she’s still there, doing her thing as far as I can tell, customers and all— [click, static] Jesus, I just realized—she’s not there-there. She’s not here. She’s there. God, fuck, um—not to give anyone false hope—I wanted to see if I could prove my theory about the polaroid, or at the very least gather some more evidence in such a big city and I was looking for Don in this pizza place right down the block from Sylvie’s shop and thought…what the hell. It’s clear that no one’s been in here in years. Which makes sense. Don knew Sylvie, a little—or at least by reputation—but this isn’t a place he’d spend time in I don’t think. So I’m probably the first one in here since ’68. And it’s… Well, it’s strange. And sad. And lonely. And a little bit comforting. Which really describes so much of the experience of being back in New York. I went to my old place. And by that I mean, I went to the last apartment I’d been living in—I was a few months into a sublet that I’d probably have been in for at least half the year, a friend of a friend of a friend’s place I’d sublet before. And, well, I actually got some of my own fucking clothes which is…god, I’d missed my boots. These nice steel-toed ones that I’d bought for myself after my first significant take. It’s nice to have them back. But there wasn’t much else there that was…mine. I mean, the place was never really mine. I did take a few polaroids, and things had been moved around, so I’m assuming the tenant came back and is living here again. I guess they either didn’t care that they missed out on a few sublet payments or they found someone else to live here while they were gone but…well, I’m glad I didn’t fuck up their life. But being at Sylvie’s is like…being at home. The smell of it, the sound of glass and china rattling in their cabinets as you walk through the shop. I loved this place. And it feels good to be back, even if I am alone. Sylvie would often work on project at the register—the shop was rarely full, but you could hardly tell if anyone else was in it with how winding and full it is. So it’d be easy for her to miss a customer if she didn’t camp out at the register. It looks like she was working on an old Tiffany lamp right before… I wonder if one of the crew brought it to her. It’s a nice piece and genuine Tiffany lamps always go for a decent price. I wonder if she finished it. I’m looking right at it but I wonder where it is now. So, anyway, I took a photo of the counter and there she was—I got lucky with the timing because she was checking out a customer who was buying an old mantle clock. There was a big pile of fabric in place of the Tiffany lamp, so I guess she’s mending things at the moment. That always relaxed her. She looked…she looked like Sylvie. Older, of course, but no worse for wear. I hope she’s happy. I hope she doesn’t wonder about me. [click, static]

Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday. ------ [TRANSCRIPT] [click, static] (sighing) I’ve tried his apartment, his favorite bar, all of the old haunts, even a few apartments of girlfriends I knew he had now and again. I even drove out to Long Island to see if I could find where his mom was living—I found her in the book, but no one was home. Which is…odd, right? If Don’s here, it would stand to reason that his presence would ripple out to his family but…well, I guess I have no idea if she was even still alive when we were arrested. He didn’t talk about her much, mostly just about her recipes. But he liked to keep all the crime stuff away from her, I think. Maybe that’s why she’s not here. Maybe him being here and him being in prison is just the same. I don’t know if Don would have ever told her what happened to him—called her or written her from jail—because he didn’t want to disappoint her. So, maybe to her, her son is just gone, and would have always been gone, and the how or the where doesn’t affect her life enough to make a difference. I knew it would be hard—I knew finding someone in this city without being able to be in a million places at once would be hard, but part of me thinks that he must have left the city and never come back. Which is sort of unthinkable in some ways—like Pete, Don never thought about leaving New York. Richie would talk sometimes about missing Chicago, and wanting to go back there, but Don and Pete and Harry would’ve died in New York if they’d had any say. But I also see why maybe…he’d want to leave now. The city is…very eerie all empty like this. Worse than Vegas or Denver, maybe because I know this city, I know what it’s supposed to sound like, look like, feel like. I know what it feels like when it’s teeming with people. There’s a sense of…wrongness now that there’s no one here. Maybe he just couldn’t take it. [click, static]

Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday. ------ [TRANSCRIPT] [click, static] (laughing) Against every single fucking odd, Don is alive. He’s alive and here and— [click, static] I can’t believe it, the first place I decide to check—Richie's shitty fucking Alphabet City loft—and Don has left a fucking note. It’s—well, it’s just so Don. [click, static] (clearing her throat) “To whoever the fuck might be out there reading this—if you’ve found this, that means you knew Richie, and knew him well enough to go looking for him, which means you’re either one of our crew or you’ve got a few screws loose and you were friends with Richie because of his personality. But, screws loose or not, if you’re in this empty world then I guess I’d like to know you. You can come on over to—“ And then he wrote his address, which I am not going to read out loud “—or—“ and then the name of his favorite bar, which I’m also not going to tell you, “where I am most days.” (laughing) Classic Don. “And if you’re Richie and you’re reading this—where the hell have you been? P.S. You still owe me fifteen bucks for that Mets game—never bet against the Mets.” Maybe things aren’t so bad. Maybe even if this whole crazy situation can’t be fixed…maybe we’ll still be okay. I’ll see you soon, Don. [click, static] [beeps] .. - / -.-. .- -. / -... . / ..-. .. -..- . -.. it can be fixed

Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday. ------ [TRANSCRIPT] [click, static] I had the thought—Harry’s contact, whoever they were, whoever she had worked things out with at the…well, whoever it was she was working with, I didn’t ask, I was still so fucking— [click, static] They have to be here, right? And it’s not like I’m some great friend of Johnny Law, but surely whoever it was, if they are here, they’d still care about stuff like someone getting murdered. Maybe…maybe I could get them to help me find Harry, or figure out what the fuck to do about Junior. If that person is out there, they’d be in New York, right? They’d have to be. And so would Pete and Don and Richie—hell, maybe even Sylvie, though just like Francis, she was already in her golden years so I’m not sure— Well, regardless, I’m halfway to New York. I don’t think it matters if I tell you I’m headed there, because if there’s one place that’s good to disappear, it’s New York. Even without all the people, there’s hundreds of streets and thousands of buildings and millions of rooms to hide away in. Even if you got on the highway right now and raced there, I still don’t think you’d be able to find me. Which…maybe doesn’t bode well for the likelihood of me finding any of my old crew—or whoever Harry was conspiring with—but at least I have an idea of where to look—apartments, old hangouts, penthouses we’d robbed that I’m sure any of us would take advantage of living in now…I’m not going in totally blind. God, it would be nice to have someone else with me. I mean, that’s always been true, after the first few weeks of getting some fucking real alone time for the first time in six years, after I’d come down from the righteous fury that was still— Well, it was nice, for half a second. To be on my own, to be totally unfettered. But for most of this extended roadtrip, it would’ve been nice to have someone by my side. Navigating, scanning the radio channels for anything, playing road games or whatever. Driving so that I could sleep in the passenger seat. So there’s rarely been a moment where I didn’t want someone with me. But right now…there’s a reason I started running with a crew when Pete invited me, instead of carrying on on my own. I’d been doing fine, pulling in decent hauls by myself, but even though you’ve got more people who have noisy fucking footsteps or who might make a stupid mistake that might cost you, it always feels…safer with someone else around. I wish I had someone to watch my back. I wish I had someone to help me find Harry. [click, static]

Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday. ------ [TRANSCRIPT] [click, static] I’ll be next if what? Fox, if you’re trying to tell me that I’ll be next if I go seeking out Junior, if you’re trying to tell me that there’s a next to be, that he already got to Harry— Shit. Fuck, what the fuck— [click, static] And what was with the long tone, huh? Is that you, Birdie? I get the feeling you two don’t like each other, but blocking out each other’s messages or talking over each other is not helpful to me, so keep that to your own time. Communicate on a different frequency, I don’t give a shit. Just stop getting in the way. I’m not interested in whatever petty sci-fi overseer timeline bullshit rivalry you two have going on. [click, static] Is that what you meant, Birdie? When you said you betrayed your job and hurt people? Was Fox one of those people you hurt? Because, jesus, that sure would be a fucking weird coincidence, wouldn’t it? Both of us trapped in some kind of weird locked horns battle with the one person who betrayed us and ruined our lives. Are you and Fox also— [click, static] This is a distraction. It’s just my fucking luck that the moment you two start chiming in again—the moment I start to maybe fucking understand what the hell is going on here— I’ve got bigger fish to fry. Clearly. I don’t want to be next. Not if Harry…look, I’m not saying I’d go in her place, I’m not saying I’d die for— [click, static] Why does anyone have to die? Why can’t we just talk like human beings? Do you really want to kill the only two people you know to exist in this world, Junior? Is getting revenge worth being alone for the rest of time? [click, static] Then again, maybe you’re having the thought that I’ve had—that if you just kill what got you here, remove me from the board, and Harry too for good measure, you’ll go to bed, your deed done, and wake up the next morning right back in the world. Maybe you think spilling our blood is the only way to right the ship. And you know what? I can’t even tell you you’re wrong. [click, static]

Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday. ------ [TRANSCRIPT] [click, static] Please—please— [click, static] Junior, if you—I’ll come to wherever you are right now if you get on the radio and tell me— [click, static] I found my Carhartt. I—I wasn't even looking for it, not really. I was getting some more supplies, at one of the last grocery stores in the area that we hadn’t completely depleted of non-perishables and in the parking lot there was— [click, static] I’m not there anymore, just in case you’re hearing this. But I’ll go back. I’ll go back right now and you can do whatever you want to me, just please tell me that she’s alive. There’s blood on the coat. A lot of it. Too much. And it still smells of cigarette smoke and the woods behind our house, but it smells of chamomile and turpentine too, and also iron, metallic and turning the fabric stiff, the entire right side of the jacket like tarp under my hands— If she’s—I mean, if she’s really—I don’t know what I’ll do— [click, static] I’ve felt no ill will toward you, Junior, even after you attacked me, but if you did anything to Harry I swear to god, I’ll— [click, static] I’ll— [click, static] Please just tell me she’s okay. [click, static] [beeps and then a tone that distorts the rest of the message] -.-- --- ..- .-.. .-.. / -... . / -. . -..- - / .. ..-. Youll be next if

Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday. ------ [TRANSCRIPT] [click, static] I don’t know what to do here. I don’t know how to find Harry, I don’t know what to do about Junior, I don’t know if any of this can be fixed. Can a timeline be corrected? Can we go back? Back to the real world, I mean, not back in time, though I guess… I actually have no idea if I would go back in time. I mean, of course, if I could undo what I did, I would but would that mean—it’s not like I want to go to prison. Then again, according to Harry, that was never going to happen. I’m still not sure I believe her. I’m still not sure it wasn’t a rotten situation all the way through. And would that alternative really have been better? [click, static] I don’t mean that, of course it would have been better. But, no matter what Harry says or thinks, we would have had to—she said only she would have had to— I don’t think I could have betrayed Pete and the guys like that. I don’t think— [click, static] Wait…if we’re not there…if Harry’s not there, that means she wouldn’t have—and without her, they could— [click, static] Holy shit, I’ve got to go to New York. [click, static]