The Broadcast
#6 of The Getaway (Thriller)
The Broadcast
*
Hello, welcome to "Getaway," in yet another little chapter! I hope you have an interesting time, and I look forward to hearing your feedback!
*
The bedroom was small and crowded. There was a bed, more like a bunk, really, with a few shelves above it, lined with items. There was a dresser, and a coat rack, but that was it. Fishing poles leaned against a wall that had a photograph of a really big fish on it. It was cold and damp, and the window didn't let in any light. It was frozen from the outside, and maybe from the inside, too. I pointed the beam from my lamp at it before checking the bed again over it. It was made, with an old, worn guilt sprawled over its modest length.
"Guess it's sure now that nobody is home," I said.
"Don't be silly," Ken complained.
"You can put the bags down," I told him. He was still holding up the bags we'd filled from the kitchen.
"Okay."
He dropped the bags before following me into the room. It was rather dark and not very inviting. It didn't look like there was anything there to find, at least not immediately. The bedding was of no good to us, there was plenty in the house. There was a reading lamp screwed to the wall above the bed, with its white plastic cord wrapped around the installation. Not much use for us either, not with the power cut for months. I was sure that this cottage got its power from the same main line, somewhere along the road, as the house did, from a different branch of the grid. The fault had to be somewhere further up...whatever you wanted to call it. It could be a tree that'd fallen down on it and nobody had come to fix it, or it could be that all the power stations had melted and there simply was no more power left, ever.
I didn't feel comfortable staying out there. I felt vulnerable. We barely had any protection from anyone who might do harm to us, let alone any invisible threats. This place looked like nobody had been here in a while. We'd probably be safe in that respect.
I could only hope.
"Are we gonna look around?" Ken asked.
"Yeah, since we're here anyway, we should," I said. "Let's start with the shelves, up there. Can you point the light for me?"
"Sure!"
He became my light manager, and kept the beam by my head while I did the checking-up. The results were meager, though somewhat promising. I found a few spools of fishing line which I dropped onto the bed to be picked into a bag later on, but the rest seemed mostly rubbish. A few old newspapers and magazines we certainly didn't need, not even for the lack of reading material at the house. A strangely ornate plate that looked like it could've been picked by a Mrs. Wilcox. A few cups and glasses and a glass pint for beer, carved and with fading golden patterns. None of it was really anything I could call crucial survival equipment.
"Move over to the dresser."
It was only a couple of steps away, but in the darkness, even was enough to engulf it in black. The light Ken provided shone over the top of the dresser showed a couple of old glass jars, a hammer, which seemed out of place there, and next to them, a plastic radio.
"Hold on," I said, "come here, next to me."
Ken joined me by the dresser and kept the light trained at the radio. It was grey, and scratched in places, a typical radio you could carry along with you. It wasn't anything fancy, it had no CD player, no advanced functions.
"Does it work?" Ken asked.
I touched the volume button on the side and heard a click, but the radio remained dead.
"Don't think so," I said.
"Shame," he said. "maybe we could've heard something."
"I doubt it," I said, "we haven't gotten any radio through back at the house either."
"Still," Ken snuffled, "could've at least tried to."
I picked up the radio by the side and lifted it up. It was easy...too easy, actually, and that made me look at it more curiously, and turn it about. That revealed the door on the back. I turned the radio around again, shook it a little.
"Hmmm...it's a battery radio, but there's no batteries in it, I think," I said, "It's too light."
"Oh?"
"Yeah, batteries are damn heavy," I replied. "I wonder..."
I used a claw to pop the door open, and it dropped down to the dresser. I peered inside, witnessed the springs and contacts inside.
"Looks like it takes some of the big batteries," I said as I put the radio down. "Don't think we have any back at the house."
"Damn," Ken shook his head.
"Yeah, it'd been useful to have a spare," I said.
"Guess there's no end to bad luck," Ken snorted.
"Well, who knows," I tapped the dresser, "maybe this is full of booze, canned food and weapons, and a ham radio somewhere in there as well."
"Let's find out then," he said, ears drooping a bit by now at our lack of success.
"Aim the light, please."
I pulled open the single drawer over the top. It seemed very messy, with bunches of old screws, rubber bands, stacks of paper, matchboxes, the kind of debris of life that had a tendency to gather onto the bottoms of old drawers.
The motion of me pulling the drawer open also caused a fat batter to roll down and thump against the wooden edge. Ken's ears perked.
"Think that'd fit?"
"Hold the light!"
I pulled the drawer open further and another battery emerged. I dug inside, and felt the cold, round shapes. Four of them, altogether, which I placed on top of the dresser when I found each of them, rolling inside the drawer.
"He must've taken them out from the radio for winter," Ken said, "my father did that too, for all sorts of things with batteries in them. He said they could leak, you had to check them sometimes to make sure they were alright."
"That makes sense," I said, "seems that your old man Wilcox was a crafty fellow."
"Likely didn't want to ruin his radio during the winter when he wasn't here," Ken said.
"Which would imply that when he last visited, he left with no plans to come back any time soon...perhaps...or maybe I'm not as good at being a CSI detective as I think I am."
Ken laughed.
"Well put them in! Maybe we'll get to hear who's on top of the Billboard Top 100!"
I snorted.
"We've both become stir crazy," I commented.
"Well, let's do it!"
Putting the batteries in took its usual effort, tricky with my relatively thick fingers. Whoever had designed these things must've had tiny fingers that had no trouble keeping the bottom batteries in while I popped the spring down to put the second batteries in. As soon as the last one connected, a hiss emerged from the radio.
"It's got power!"
"But whether it's got reception, that's another thing," I said.
I put the radio back down onto the table. I didn't bother with the door, I wasn't going to be carrying the radio around now, I thought. I pulled the telescopic antenna up and turned the volume down, because the white noise seemed awfully loud in the small bedroom. The manipulation of the antenna caused an annoying buzz and a rattle.
"Here we go then..." I said.
Our eyes were straining to see the small red dot move along its path, when I started to turn the tuning wheel at the front of the radio. The crackling waxed and waned, along with more hisses. I forgot where that noise came from...did the empty space between the different radio channels have some...energy of its own that made it happen? I wasn't sure. Maybe I should ask Ken, whether he knew. He liked trivia.
We were too concentrated on the radio for the moment, though, fumbling through the bands. At one point I was sure I could hear snippets of speech through the hissing and buzzing of white noise, but no matter of finetuning could make it come in better. I gave up trying after a while and continued my checking of the band.
It seemed the _ksssshhhhhhhshshshshshshhshshbrhrrhrhrhrhrhh_truly was endless, all the way through the band, until suddenly...
"...-sure the distribution of electricity throughout the area, FEMA has deployed special teams to cope with the emergency situation. Residents are advised to remain indoors and observe usual cautions."
_ _
"You've got something!" Ken yelped.
The voice was quiet, and we'd caught it...male, I think, in the middle of a broadcast. It sounded official enough, too.
"...CDC Doctor Gillian spoke earlier today at the NIAID online video conference about the recent decrease in the number of fulminant PHV cases reported to the authorities from several major medical centers in the West Coast. Whether this indicates that the Vanguard Trial has reached clinical levels of success is still to be determined by further statistical information, but the initial trend seems to be that infusions of immunoglobulin factors from survivors of the PHV may have a beneficial effects in reducing mortality and morbidity from the infection. While further research is required, it seems that the Vanguard Project has reached another milestone in combating the national health crisis."
_ _
"Vanguard Project..." I said.
"I don't remember - "
We were cut off by the radio.
"Widespread looting is still being reported in Chicago and Cleveland even after the recent major operation by the National Guard who are maintaining the Urban Quarantine Perimeter around these cities. According to National Guard sources, the shortage of National Guard manpower has made it difficult to maintain a constant presence at the checkpoints. Citizens are reminded that looting is an offense that can be punished by up to 20 years' imprisonment and with loss of civil liberties."
_ _
"Are we looters now?" Ken asked. I wasn't sure whether he was scared or not.
"I don't think so," I whispered, still concentrated on the box that had suddenly started talking.
"Chief Justice Furstenberg has ruled that the temporary judgment of her predecessor will still remain in effect and that the marriages officiates via Skype and other telecommunications platforms under the virtual presence of a notary are to be accepted in the future as well. Since the implementation of the tele-marriage law after the shutting down of clerical services until further notice due to the national health crisis, approximately 547,000 couples have been married across the nation via tele-marriages."
_ _
"Wow..."
"This concludes this National Emergency Broadcasting System midday bulleting. Next bulletin is broadcast at 6 pm local time to all states within The United States. Local programming will now resume. Thank you for listening. Be well."
_ _
A jingle was played, and then the radio hissed for just a little, before some noise pop music started. We stared in awe for a little moment, until Ken snapped off the radio. I gave him a curious look.
"What?" he said. "That sounded horrible, and I don't want to waste the batteries listening to something like that!"
"Fair point," I replied, broken out of the spell. "No way of telling how much juice they have left."
"We have to take it with us!" Ken sounded excited. "Maybe we can listen to the news! Maybe it's more powerful than the radio at the house, or something!"
"Or maybe this cabin is just in a better position to pick up the transmission," I mused, "hard to tell."
"But we have to try!" Ken enthused. "I'll carry it myself if you like, I'll do it!"
He picked up the radio by its handle and waved it.
"Look! It's not even heavy, with the batteries and all!"
"Okay, okay," I smiled, "but better put the lid back onto it before you drop the batteries."
"Oh..."
I patted his shoulder.
"Let's get it into a bag, to protect it from snow. And let's see if there's anything else worth taking here."
_ _
*
Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed the read, and I look forward to your feedback!