My name was Gus, and I’ve been dead for about six months. Maybe longer, but it’s hard to tell time where I am. I’m still on Earth, in the same area where I left, on the same property I stayed on for the last ten years. There aren’t any clocks, or time-telling tools on the property. The few indications that time has even pasted is the added wear to the old trailer house and the slow decline of the other man who lives there. The only the man who lives there now.

His name is Tod, and his grandfather owned the land before him. He’s been here, a place on the outskirts of a dead town, since he was born. He was home schooled, and aside from me, had known no one else after his grandfather passed away. He never told me about his birth-parents, as I never bothered to ask, since he seemed to know not much of anything. For all I knew, he was found on the side of the road or taken from a hospital in a far off city by an old man who had nothing better to do. The latter was possible, because there really was nothing better to do here.

We met along the side of some train tracks. I was traveling by any means to get across the country, and he was just walking through the woods to see if he could find some abandon buildings to look into. I didn’t have any place to stay for the night, and, maybe cause he could see my disinterest in sleeping in Appalachian territory, he invited me to stay with him. I thought little of it, maybe because I could see the loneliness in his whole stance, and accepted. Ended up staying here, in the same property and trailer house for the next ten years until I died.

Right after I died, Tod didn’t do anything for two weeks. He stayed on the beat-up couch, staring at the wall in front of him like it was a TV. He never had a TV, the first and only time he’d seen one was when I found a nice bar from a town over and dragged him there so we could play pool. There was one playing off near the bar. He stood in front of it and stared for the rest of the night while I played alone, but he still learned how to play pool as I explained it to him on the way home.

For the next month he stayed inside the house, pacing from one room to another. The living room and kitchen sat together at the front of the entrance, with the doorway to the hallway in the middle of them, leading to the bathroom, storage room, and bedroom. It only took a few steps to get to each room, but Tod made it look hard as he stumbled over himself each time. He’d walk to a room, stand for a while, then struggle to move on to the next. He never walked into the bedroom. He slept on the couch.

I tired to talk to him during that month, when I finally got used to being dead, but nothing came of it. I’ve seen movies when ghosts can send a signal to the living, either pushing a curtain or messing with the lights, or simply touching someone on their shoulder. I tired it all, and nothing worked. My body would just go through everything, past old curtains, across the dying lights of antique glass lamps, without a single flicker. I gave up pretty quickly after that. He might not be ready to see me yet, anyway.

I just stay with him now, sitting next to him on the couch when he comes back from driving off the land and roaming mostly empty roads. I don’t bother following, because I know he’ll come back and be in the same spot. I was always the one getting him to go out to different places. Guess my need for adventure never influenced him as much as I wanted.

I roam around the property as well, a habit I did each morning, to check if any creatures found themselves stuck in the broken wire fence that ran along the property lines. I never found anything aside from a raccoon or possum, but I thought one day I would find something unusual. Sometimes I even wished it, hoped that some creature would arrive and convince Tod that it was time to leave this place behind. Show him how much he was missing of the world.

That day did happen, and God do I wish I was still alive to protect him.

___

It was three months after I died, and I was sitting on the couch with him when a loud bang came from outside. It sounded like metal crashing on solid wood, and before Tod stood from his hole in the sofa, I was already halfway across from the house to the barn.

That ramshackle of a wooden structure rested near the edge of Tod’s land, broken and empty of all but rusty tools and molded furniture. We planned on rebuilding it, making it a nice home with all that space it offered and use it during the winter when having air conditioning didn’t matter much. We talked on and on about it while we smoked in there, leaving the doors open to feel the summer breeze. We never got to finish that plan, and it seems Tod wasn’t interested in being near anything that reminded him of me.

I got to the barn quick, being blown by the wind was faster than being carried by legs after all, and stood in front of the open doors. The wood creaked and crawled against dry dirt, the strong air pushing them against the walls. It must have been October, or one of those fall months. The air of an early winter always found a way to bang up the already ruined doors, and the new hole in the roof seemed to be helping it.

I go closer to the entrance, trying to peep inside without getting any closer. Apparently being dead didn’t stop me from not trusting the barn that much. Whenever I looked at it, it felt like I was looking at it for the last time before it collapsed on itself. Darkness from a cloudless night greeted me, along with the howl of the wind and something else. Something unnatural. Foreign. I walk in before Tod arrives.

Most of the tools are scattered across the floor. The molded furniture piled into pieces around and under a dark mass. It’s too dark, moonlight barely finding a way from the hole above. The doors crawl, a large shadow groans. I can’t think for a moment, just trying to hold on to a breath I don’t really have.

I’ve heard stories about what comes on in the Appalachia, but I can’t remember the exact details. While I hoped something like this would happen, I didn’t think it would go like this. A supernatural force finding its way near our house, spooking the skin off me and Tod, it running off to do whatever supernatural forces do while we’re busy packing up and finding a new place to settle in. I didn’t plan to be dead when it happened, while Tod is in grieving.

The shape changes, shifting around on the floor. The molded furniture breaks and cracks from its weight. A breeze blows past and the shape shivers, groaning a sound close to a wounded animal. I can’t feel anything. I just stand where I am when Tod finally arrives.

He stays at the entrance like I did, peering in with a flashlight in hand. The light bounces to the roof and it’s newly made window, to the floor boards covered in brittle fabric and rotten iron, to the shadowy shape laying on the ground, its groans changing to a painful whine.

Tod makes a sound, but I’m too focused on the thing to pay mind to him. The flashlight showed a glimpse of it before falling to the floor, revealing a patch of pitch black hair. Almost like fur.

The thing moved from the sound, and for a moment I expect it to jump on Tod and end him right there. A part of me sort of wished it did, but I ignored it. We’ll see each other again at some point.

Tod grabs his light and shines it right at it, his survival instincts overcome by confusion and exhaustion. The thing moves some more before rearing its head, and… My God.

It’s almost like a wolf, or one of those dogs with a long and narrow snout. It’s all black, dark as a doomed sky, so dark its coat absorbs the light. It stays on the floor, sprawled across it, the size of a grizzly, wide gray eyes looking around, ignoring the light hitting its face.

Tod stays where he is. I don’t judge him; I can hardly move myself. It’s looks so… deformed. Broken, twisted. I can’t find the proper word, and a small whine from the thing keeps me from finding it. I glance down and find tools sticking out of its side.

It’s making a noise close to crying, and Tod finally moves. Towards it, for some reason. The thing doesn’t move or seem to notice him.

“Hey,” Tod croaks. It’s the first he’s spoken since he left the hospital.

The thing stops moving, freezes itself. From afar, it looked as scared as Tod. I didn’t think a supernatural could feel fear.

“Hey,” Tod speaks again. “Hey. I’m here.”

He slowly pulls out his hand, and the thing doesn’t kill him. It doesn’t do anything. Tod puts his hands on its head, cradling it. It still does nothing. He whispers words I can’t hear, talking to it like a wounded animal. A broken person.

___

For the next month he nurses it back to health. Each morning he wakes up and gets off the couch, walking straight to the barn with a pan of warm canned food and some water. He doesn’t carry a weapon, or so much as thinks of carrying one, which I find irritating, but he can’t hear my complaints.

The thing stays in the barn, usually in the same place as we found it, either sleeping or looking around at nothing. I suspect it’s blind, as it never looks at Tod but follows his voice. Maybe the forest creatures don’t have much use for sight, seeing as they’re often seen at night.

Tod will spend the rest of the day in there. He treats the wounds, oversees its disfigurements, talks to it. Mostly asking how it’s doing, how it slept, how he’s doing. Like he was talking to a dog. I would’ve preferred if it was an actual dog. I would’ve preferred that he just left this place by now, but I guess he was too rooted here.

A part of me is glad he’s at the barn again. It feels like he’s setting up a spot for us like before. To sit and relax in while it rains outside. The new damage to the roof ruins the memories a bit, so I ignore the thought, and focus on the thing.

It does seem to understand him to a degree, so he starts teaching it words and how to speak. That’s how we find out it has some human teeth, mixed in with common canines. Tod doesn’t take note of it, from what I can tell. He starts giving it more homemade food than just cans. The kind of food I liked. After a month of Tod’s teaching, it says its first word. “Tood.”

I’m horrified, but also impressed. Maybe Tod has an act for teaching. Maybe he could do that instead of this. Whatever this is.

___

More time goes by, that thing learning more. Tod spends his days in there, teaching everything he can think of. Speech, daytime, common noises, numbers. Each lesson it learns, each time it changes. Its jaw becomes more human-like, so it speaks more clearly. Its mangled paws turn to human hands, so Tod teaches it table manners. Its hind legs change to that of a human’s, so he teaches it how to walk. Its vocal cords turn more human, so he teaches it slang.

By the end of three months, there’s a human man in the barn. Still blind, still confused judging from the way it acts, but human enough to just seem naive. Almost like a child.

Tod helps it out of the barn, and once outside for the first time in months, it points at the sun, and speaks. “See. Where’s rest?” Tod doesn’t answer, just leads it to the house.

___

He named the thing Gus. I guess grief does that to a person when they lose the only thing they knew. I should have known this would happen. It was clear the moment he found it. How he held it so close to him like it was gonna fade away. I like to think Tod was just bad at making names, but he found a way to prove me wrong. Like he always did.

When he realizes he doesn’t have enough clothes to share, he goes into the bedroom. He opens the small dresser next to the bed and pulls out my favorite shirt, a purple checkered button-up. I often wore it when we went out. I always liked the color. He holds it close for a while before handing it over, and does the same to an old pair of jeans and socks and shoes. All were my favorite.

It was the first time since I died that he went into our room. For a while, every part of me just wanted to hold him. I hate this existence, this in-between hell, and for a moment I hated him for doing this. All of it.

___

He must be convinced that thing is me. He takes it to all our places, telling it all our stories as if that will make it remember something it never went through. He takes it to the train tracks and tells it how we met. To the abandon building where my favorite piece of graffiti is. The gas station where we bought most of our food. Anywhere with a story about me. Us.

The thing never responds the way he wants. It just says okay and keeps staring at the Sun, asking where the ‘other spots’ are. Tod never answers. He just takes it to the next place.

___

I don’t think this thing is from the mountains. Or anywhere from here. All it can see is the Sun, and when Tod does allow it to speak, it talks about floating off in the middle of nowhere, being surrounded by ‘spots’. How is was surrounded by cold, then felt a strong pull and crashed into something sharp and solid.

I don’t know much about forest creatures, but this thing doesn’t seem like one of them. It still seems confused. Naive, lost. I might’ve started to feel pity for it at some point, now that I think about it.

Tod doesn’t seem to engage in the creature’s stories. He only talks about me now, all our stories and moments together. He tells ‘Gus’ to remember. It only acts confused.

Soon ‘he’ plays along, and just agrees when Tod remains ‘him’ of me.

From the start I knew this was a bad idea. I don’t really understand how we got here, but I can feel this ending poorly. Something like this doesn’t have a happy ending.

___

A year went by based on the change of the seasons, and by that time all the evidence finally becomes visible to Tod that ‘Gus’ isn’t me.

They are in the house, Tod making dinner, ‘Gus’ sitting on the couch, when Tod freezes. I’m sitting next to ‘Gus’, watching him run a hand along the frame of a book, when I notice Tod standing in front of him, a knife in hand. Murder in his eyes.

“Who are you?” He spits, voice foaming with anger.

“I’m Gus.” He replies, tone sounding automatic. Rehearsed.

Tod grabs him. He drags ‘Gus’ out of the house and throws him. He tumbles down the small stairs, scrambling to get up as Tod screams. ‘Gus’ runs as best he could, following the gravel path while Tod chases him.

I follow, trying to make of what just happened. I’ve never seen Tod so angry. I try to stop him from running after ‘Gus’, but my hands run through him.

‘Gus’ makes it out to the road when Tod tackles him. They struggle against each other, ‘Gus’ pleading and Tod screaming. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to stop them.

Out of nowhere, headlights come in the distance. Of all the few occasions. I don’t know what to do. They’re still fighting.

I go in front of the lights, try to signal a warning, an alarm. For a moment, just one, I see a faint sign of my own shadow. It’s as faint as an outline, but for whatever reason, Tod stops fighting ‘Gus’. Part of me thinks I did that.

In that time, ‘Gus’ pushes Tod off him, and keeps running, off to the other side of the road, into the forest. I can’t see him, but I stay put, watching Tod. Hoping he moves off the road. Hoping he’ll do anything.

He doesn’t. He sits there, staring at nothing like he did before. Then he turns, facing the growing lights as they get bigger. For a moment, just one, I think he’s looking at me. That he finally sees me for the first time since I died.

I want to hold him right now, talk to him, but I wait, and I’m fine with that, because I know he’ll be with me soon.