Chapter Thirty: Calls Over the Radio:

Nancy

We can’t stay here. I’ve been trying to leave for weeks now. I might have made a breakthrough. I just needed to chase it. I sat down in front of the radio and put on my headphones. Everyone was asleep right now. Even the dog lay curled up at my feet. I reached down and patted him on the head.

“Good boy,” I whispered. I turned back to the task at hand. I turned on the radio. Tunning it was delicate process that had to be done with care. I listened intently. The static ripped through my ears. I was used to this kind of thing. I just needed to stay focused. I sat there and waited.

“Can anybody here out there?” I said. I had to be as quiet as I could. I looked out of the corner of my eye when I asked that. Suddenly, something caught my attention.

Dot, dot, dot…

I took a closer listen. More dots broke through the static. When the dashes broke up the pattern, it started to make sense. Now, I’m not that skilled in morse code. However, I knew the basics of it. I tried to listen and see if I could make out the message. I picked up my notepad and pencil.

I wrote down as much as I could hear. Even then I wasn’t sure if it was coming out right. I started to mouth along with dots and dashes. The message repeated about two or three more times. It was enough times to try and get the whole thing. I looked up at the paper under the lamp by the radio. I thought I had written about four pages worth of the message. At first, I tried to make it out without any translators. I could make out every “S” and “O” on the page. I wrote them down under the dashes and dots. The rest might as well have been Pig Latin.

Okay, time to get the translator.

I have never seen Paul turn off that old computer once. The internet was slow but I would just need one page. In two minutes, a page for morse code pop-up on the screen. I copied down the letters for the rest of the message on the notepad. I looked down at my handiwork. The message didn’t make any sense.

“A1 Help Help Help Mother Dying Lost Help Lost War Help [Random letters] Help Help [Random letters] Attack Dead Lost [Random letters] [Random letters] Don’t come back to the base.”

That couldn’t be right. I couldn’t stop staring at the last line. It was the only thing I translated that made any sense. That can’t be right. I shook my head. Was that message even meant for me? Why wouldn’t they want me to come back home?

I sat back in the chair and took off my headphones. What the hell was going on? How long had we been gone?

“You’re still up?” I heard behind me. I sat up with a jolt. I turned to Paul standing in the doorway. He narrowed his eyes at me. I could ask him the same thing.

“Oh. Just looking for something,” I said.

“Over the radio?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “I think I got a message through. It doesn’t make any sense though. It came out in morse code.”

“Morse code, huh?” he asked.

“Uh-huh. I tried to translate it. I don’t think it makes any sense. Would you like to take a look?” I said. I held out my notepad. Curious, Paul walked over and to it. I watched as he ran over my message. He wrinkled his nose.

“Your handwriting is awful,” he said. I glared at him.

“Shut up,” I growled. “Just read the damn message.” He waved me off as he kept reading. Paul looked just as confused as I did.

“I don’t think you translated this right,” he said at last.

“What do you mean?” I asked. He turned the notepad over to me to show me the page.

“You have some spelling mistakes in your translations,” he said.

“Huh?” I asked. I leaned in for a better look. Instantly, I began to feel shame. He was right. My handwriting did look kind of bad. However, that wasn’t the point.

“Let me see that,” I said. I took back the notepad and got to work fixing all of the spelling mistakes. Some of the random letters started to come through. Even with the corrections, most the message still didn’t make any sense.

“Can you make out any of this?” I asked. I handed the notepad back to Paul. He took another read. He looked just as confused as I was.

“What is this saying? Do you know what frequency you find it on?” he asked. I wanted to smack myself in the forehead. I should’ve written it down while I was listening.

“I didn’t get it, sorry,” I said.

“Do you think you could find it again?” he asked. I thought about it for a second.

“Maybe. Some these frequencies take a delicate touch,” I said. “It might be gone by now.” I leaned back in my chair and rubbed my head. This wasn’t turning out how I wanted it. I was trying to make contact and instead I got a confusing message. I almost missed what Paul said.

“What did you say?” I asked.

“What are you going to do with it?” Paul asked. I thought about this for moment. I was so caught up on what the message meant that I didn’t know think about what came next.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I didn’t think about that.” I couldn’t just ignore that message. I didn’t know if I could find the frequency again. I looked over at Paul.

“Do you happen to know any Morse code?” I asked. It was a long shot, but I was desperate at this point. I bit on my lower lip as I waited. Paul shrugged.

“A little bit,” he said. It was going to have to do for now.

“I might have to hear the message for myself,” he added. “I can’t read it from your crappy handwriting.” I glared at him.

“You aren’t going to let it go, are you?” I asked. He didn’t have to be an ass about it. I rolled my eyes.

“Whatever,” I muttered. I looked down at the notes in  the notepad. Did it really look that bad? My eyes trailed back to the last part of the message. “Don’t come back to the base.” What did that mean? Was that meant for me? Or for anyone left on the surface? If it was the latter, how many other people were on the surface?

“We might have to look for other survivors stuck on the surface,” I said aloud.

“Why?” Paul asked.

“If that message was meant for everyone on the surface?” I asked. “The people underground could be trying to reach out for survivors. They could be looking for you.” I could see the doubt in Paul’s eyes.

“Look, I know that you want to be alone,” I said. “But how long do you think that you’re going to survive up here? What will you do when you run out of food? Won’t you get lonely up here?”

“I have Marshmallow,” he said.

“Well, yes,” I said. “But what about other people? Man can’t survive alone for long.”

“Why do you care?” Paul asked.

“I don’t know,” I said. He clicked his tongue. When did this conversation start to get off track? We needed to get back on track.

“What I’m trying to say is that the message could be for all of us on the surface,” I said.

“And what if it was?” Paul asked. “What can we do about it? How are we even going to find them? How are you even sure that we’re the only humans left on the surface?” I hated how he made sense. I threw up my hands.

“I don’t know. But we have to try,” I said. Why couldn’t he understand? This could be a way to reach out to others. My little angels and I could be rescued. We could finally go home. How many others were like Ava and me? Was that scumbag even looking for me?

“But the message said not to come to base,” Paul pointed out. “Maybe it’s warning you not to come out there.” I hated how that he had to have a point. Why did he have to crush my hopes and dreams with logic? I tried to come up with a reason, but I kept coming up with nothing. I threw up my hands.

“Okay, you got me there,” I said. “But we at least have to try!” Paul threw his hand up in the air and rolled his eyes.

“Don’t you dare take that attitude with me!” I snapped.

“And why are you so desperate to leave, huh?” he asked. I froze.

I did not have an answer.