by Gayle Katz
The newswoman disappears into the back. The news guy is still walking around the station. I can see him through the big glass window in front of Studio One. He smiles and waves. I return the smile and wave back, trying to allow a little of the extrovert in me to come out.
Twenty-five minutes have passed. It’s approaching 6:00 a.m., and my replacement hadn’t arrived yet. Where is he? There’s so much involved with the morning show; I’m not sure I know what buttons to push for all the newscasts and commercials, plus I would have to speak more, and I’m pretty beat right now. What would I even say?
The news guy is already in his little news booth getting ready for his first newscast of the morning. No replacement DJ yet. I just smile a nervous smile at him, and he smiles back at me as he puts on his headphones. I didn’t notice earlier when he was walking by me, but now that I see him up close, he’s quite easy on the eyes. His smile is mesmerizing.
Just as my adrenaline starts to pump from the fact that I might totally mess up the morning show, I can see the morning DJ rushing to the front door, punch in his code, and race into Studio One. It’s Wyatt! He’s the guy who taught me the ropes here. I didn’t know he would be relieving me this morning. That’s a pleasant surprise.
He is sprinting so fast, I can still hear the buzz of the door echoing in my ears as he runs into Studio One.
As my last song is playing, he smiles and gives me a quick hello. He hops onto the hot seat, puts his headphones on, plays the station identifier at the top of the hour, and clicks on the microphone for the news guy to start talking.
6:00 a.m.
Instead of leaving, I stand there to watch the morning newscast unfold. I’ve never been here this early in the morning, so I am curious.
The news guy speaks. He introduces himself as Jack. Ah. Yes. I can finally put a name with the voice. He’s the guy I heard yesterday morning on the air.
When Jack has a news clip or a sound bite to play, he points at Wyatt. Wyatt then hits the proper button on the audio board, and a clip of someone saying something plays on the air. I guess I didn’t notice that when the newsies walked through Studio One they left a bunch of recordings numbered from one through six. Every time Jack would point to Wyatt, Wyatt would play another one of those recordings.
I thought Wyatt had been late, but the sports guy is even later. As the recording of the weatherman is coming to a close, I see the sports guy rush the door, run into the news area, and sprint back to Studio One with a paper in his hand. As he busts in, the moment he sits down, Wyatt points at him, and he starts rattling off sports scores from last night.
As he speaks, I inhale the stale stench of cigarettes wafting across the room. As he wraps up his sports monologue, Wyatt goes back to Jack, who teases their 6:30 a.m. newscast coming up soon.
“Don’t miss all the news you can use every half hour on the dot,” Jack says.
“I wouldn’t even consider missing it,” Wyatt says, “Right, Logan?”
“I kinda have to be here.” Logan says “but I have lots more scores to share too.”
“Yeah. I gotta know how my teams did last night,” Wyatt says. “Well, there you have it, Scarlet Peak. Keep it tuned to 97.5 so you never miss a beat.”
As soon as the news is officially over, Wyatt gives everyone a cheery, “Good morning!” greeting, starts playing music, and turns off his microphone.
Once the song is playing, he takes off his headphones, turns to me, and asks, “How was your first night?”
“Pretty good, I think.”
“That’s good. That’s good. What does ‘pretty good’ mean exactly?” He smiles at me. “Did you have any dead air?”
“No. No dead air.”
“That’s great. I remember my first night on air. I forgot to queue up a song and had about thirty seconds of dead air, which felt like thirty minutes of nothing. I think my heart almost popped out of my chest. It’s pretty stressful, to say the least. Did you have any problems at all?”
“Everything went OK. I even spoke once. You know, inviting people to call in with what they want to hear. The listener line rang, and it might have been a crank call, but other than that everything was good.”
“Look at you! That’s awesome. You should be so proud of yourself. We should really teach you how to handle the newscasts so you can take an earlier shift. The overnight is killer. You don’t want to keep doing them.”
“Sure,” I say, beaming with confidence. “I’m up for it. I actually enjoyed being on the air, after the initial scariness went away, that is.”
“The nervousness, scariness, whatever you call it is completely normal. What? You think I didn’t shit my pants the first time I was on the air?”
“That’s good to hear. The nervousness, not the shitting your pants stuff.” I smile.
“Ha-ha. No offense taken. It’s too early for that, frankly, but that’s wonderful everything was cool. You know, with a little more training, you could totally do this morning newscast, no problem. I know it seems complicated with so many things happening and it’s a bit longer, but it’s far better than the overnight, and I think you can totally handle it.”
“OK. It’s a date. I’ll schedule some time on your calendar so we can practice. Oh! Hey. I want to ask you. Did you see anything weird on the way in this morning?”
“Anything specific? Most mornings are weird around here. You’ve get a bunch of crazy, horny, drunk college students who have no rules or curfews,” he says.
“No. Nothing special I guess. I’m exhausted. I’m gonna rest my eyes. I’ll see you in a little.”
Maybe I’m just over-reacting. The events of the past day have put me a bit more on edge than I normally am. I go into the lounge area to take a nap before my classes starts at 8 a.m. It would only take me fifteen minutes to get to class, so I have some time to relax and recharge before venturing out again.
I leave Studio One and open the warped wooden door to the lounge. It’s a poor excuse for a lounge. The leather couch is old and quite worn. You can tell the most highly trafficked sections of carpet because they are frayed and you can see the floor underneath. All of the other furniture around the room is distressed wooden chairs and such.
Despite the lack of appeal, I lie down on the leather couch and put my head down on the pillow. Just then my phone starts buzzing again. I ignore it. Despite being exhausted, I can’t sleep. Instead, I listen to the music being piped through the station, close my eyes, and can tell it’s 6:30 a.m. because the next newscast is starting.
Jack is on the air again, and his top story is about a strange contagion that seems to be spreading through the area.
“Officials can’t say much, but they have asked that everyone stay inside. Professors stay home. Students stay in your dorms. Stay inside for your safety until university officials can determine exactly what’s happening and the best course of action moving forward.”
And then he adds the usual plug: “Stay tuned every half-hour for all the news you can use on 97.5FM.”
That is a weird newscast, but it confirms my suspicions that something is up. Immediately I pull out my phone and see the text message that I ignored minutes ago. All it says is, It has begun.
I check the number, and it’s the same as before. Whoever this creepy person is, he isn’t stopping, and his texts are beginning to freak me out. What has begun, exactly?
Whatever. Trying to keep calm, I call my parents.
“Hello,” my mom answers, sounding tired.
“Hi, Mom. Is everything OK?”
“Yes, I think so. What’s wrong? Are you OK? What time is it?”
“It’s about 6:30 in the morning. I know it’s early. I’m OK. I’m just checking in to see if you’re OK.”
“I guess your father and I should get up and start our day. Thanks for the wakeup call. We’ll call you a little later. Have a good day, OK?”
“Will do, Mom. Bye.”
I don’t want to worry her if there isn’t anything to worry
her about. It’s just a newscast teasing of something happening in the area. It doesn’t mean anything serious is happening. I might be paranoid, and the news report could just be something to get people to tune in. The school doesn’t own the radio station anymore, so it needs to make money or it will close. It makes more money if we have more listeners, and this way is a good one to get people to tune in. Nevertheless, I think I should be a little more outgoing, formally introduce myself to Jack, and ask him what he thinks is happening. He is also quite handsome, so that gives me more incentive to talk to him.
I get up off the couch and walk over to the newsroom. As I look around the news nerve center, I feel like time and technology have left us in the past. We’re still using those huge, old printers that sound like airplanes landing.
OK, here I go. Chill out and be cool. I walk over to Jack and say, “Hi. My name is Jane. I’m the DJ who was on the overnight last night. You waved at me.”
“Nice to meet you, Jane. Yes. Yes. We saw you as we were getting ready for the 6 a.m. broadcast. Sorry we didn’t say hello. We were just really focused on getting ready. My name is Jack. That’s Nora over there.”
“Nice to meet you too, Jack. I want to ask, can you tell me more about this contagion thing you mentioned on air? Do you have any more information? It’s kind of freaking me out, to be honest.”
“I don’t know much about it, but since the news came over the wire, I feel like on my way into work people were acting weird. Stranger than normal. Stumbling around drunk-like. I know this is a college campus and all, but it’s odd behavior for 5:30 in the morning, ya know? Most would be sleeping it off by now. I can’t put my finger on it. This morning just seemed different to me. Have you noticed anything out of the ordinary?”
“I got a weird phone call last night on the listener line. The phone rang. I picked it up and nothing. No one spoke, or maybe it was just a bad connection. I asked them to call back. They didn’t, so I didn’t think anything of it.”
“OK. So nothing crazy to worry about yet.” He put his hands on my shoulders to comfort me and let me know that everything is gonna be all right. I don’t know if it’s the smell of his cologne that is intoxicating or his confidence that we would be OK, but it’s the first interaction in the past day that made me feel warm and safe. I smile at him, and he smiles back at me.
“Thanks for the info, but I might stay here a little longer until we get more information. You did say to stay indoors, so I don’t think I’m gonna go to class this morning—at least, not yet.”
“It’s just a formality, really. Having thousands of faculty and students on campus would just create more of a problem. That is, if we have a problem, and we don’t know if there’s a problem yet. I’m hoping my warning will at least cut down on those going to campus. The challenge is that sometimes students don’t know what to do about classes. Some might go anyway because they think their professors are hard-asses and wouldn’t understand if they didn’t show up. Others just aren’t paying attention to anything and will show up regardless. Anyway, I’m rambling. You’re welcome to hang out here for as long as you’d like.”
Just then, the front door buzzes loudly, and three salespeople come rushing through the door. One of them is bleeding.
Chapter 3
________________________________________
7:00 a.m.
“That’s Jayce!” Jack shouts.
“Oh shit! What happened?” I ask as Jack and I run over to where Jayce is bleeding all over the floor. I’m not sure my nerves can take this.
He is holding the wound on his arm, his blood coming off his elbow and onto the floor in a steady stream. With all his blood loss, I imagine he must be a little lightheaded, and that’s why he falls to the floor. Looking up, he points at his arm.
“Some crazy person attacked me. He bit me! See?” he demands as he puts his arm on display for everybody. “And then I fell down and a crowd, a mob, started to close in on me. I’m lucky I was close to the station. Connor and Abigail were there to help me to my feet and get me here.”
“Who did this?” I ask.
“Call an ambulance,” Jack tells me.
Where did I leave my bag? I don’t have time to run around and find it so I run to the phone in the main office and dial.
“911. What is your emergency?”
“We need an ambulance and the police at WZOM FM, the radio station right outside Scarlet Peak University. We’re at 111 South Lombard Street in Scarlet Peak. One of the guys here just came into the station. He was attacked, and he’s bleeding a lot.”
“Is the attacker still there?”
“Maybe. They might be outside the building. We don’t know.”
“We’ll send out a squad car and an ambulance now. In the meantime, if you have any alcohol, pour it on the wound. Then wrap it tight with cloth or a bandage until the ambulance arrives. OK?”
“OK. We’ll do our best. Please hurry.”
“Would you like me to hang on the line until help arrives?”
“I would, but I have to get back and do what I can to help.”
I hang up and run back to the group.
“They’re sending the police and an ambulance now,” I tell them. “Do we have any alcohol or bandages to wrap up his arm?”
“There might be alcohol in the janitor’s closet or the production room,” Jack says. “Sometimes they use it to clean equipment. The closet is down this hallway, which makes a left before you get to the newsroom. You should run right into it. As for bandages, you can check the first aid kit in the newsroom, but we haven’t refilled that in years. We might not have anything. If we don’t, you could take one of our T-shirts and use that instead. Soak it in the alcohol first, though, so it’s sterilized.”
“OK. I’ll start looking.”
“Hold pressure on his wound,” Jack tells Abigail.
Jack looks at the clock.
“It’s approaching 7:00 a.m. I have to get back on the air.”
“What are you gonna say?” I ask.
“I have no idea.”
He runs back to the newsroom to check the local AP and leaves me with the three salespeople. I don’t know what to say except to repeat that help would be arriving soon.
Realizing there is nothing for me to do here, I take off around the radio station to try to find supplies. As I’m running around, I can hear everything that is happening on-air because the feed is still being piped into the speakers around the station. Jack is talking.
“Authorizes won’t comment about specifics but insist that everyone must remain indoors for their own safety. Your power may go in and out. Don’t worry if it goes out. It’ll come back on. Do not go outside for any reason. Make sure your doors and windows are locked and secure.”
As I am in the janitor’s closet looking for supplies, I find some alcohol. I turn around to check out the first aid kit and run smack into an older man I don’t know who clearly works at the station. He almost knocks me over.
“Whoa! In a hurry?” he says as he grabs my hand to help me regain my footing.
“Yeah, we have some problems. Someone’s hurt, and I’m looking for alcohol to treat his wounds,” I say as I hold up the bottle I found.
“Someone’s hurt? Wounds? I’ve been in the back. I didn’t realize what’s going on. My name is Bill. I’m the engineer here. I’m the one who keeps this station standing and on the air.”
“Nice to meet you, Bill. My name is Jane. I’m one of the new DJs. I was doing the overnight last night.”
“I remember when I worked the overnights. That was a long time ago. Sorry. Is there anything else you need?” he asks.
“Yeah, I need to find something to wrap his wound. Jack says there might be bandages in the first aid kit.”
“Nah. Jack’s a good guy, but we haven’t filled that thing in years. I don’t even know why we keep it there, except for compliance purposes. They never check inside, though.”
“Hm. Well, are there extra
T-shirts somewhere around here?”
“Yes. I think so. Let’s go to the prize vault, and I can get ’em for you.”
“Prize vault?” I ask.
“Yeah, just a drawer in the production room where we keep giveaways reserved for listeners. The name is much more exciting than it really is. Sounds good on air too.”
As Bill and I are looking for the T-shirts, we hear the weather and sports. I guess Jack, Logan, and Wyatt are trying to keep some semblance of normalcy despite the warnings and what’s happening at the station.
After Jack’s newscast, Wyatt starts up the music again. Things are tense so he starts playing some mellow Dave Matthews Band and Chicago.
After finding the bottle of alcohol and a bunch of our T-shirts, Bill and I return to the threesome just inside the front door. Jack pops out of his news booth and rushes over.
“How are we doing over here?” he asks.
“Bill and I found the alcohol and T-shirts,” I say.
“That’s good.”
The lights flicker.
“What is that?” I ask.
“That happens when we’re having more extreme weather like today. Happens all the time. Don’t worry. There’s nothing to worry about,” Jack replies.
Kind of freaking out, I ask, “Nothing to worry about? What about us?”
“What about us?”
“We have an injured person here who needs help. When will they get here? It’s been, like, fifteen minutes at least. He needs help now. Plus what happens if the power goes out here? We need to stay on the air. We need heat, or else we’re gonna freeze in here. And the front door? If those crazy people are outside, we’ll have no protection if the power is off. This door would be useless. Anyone would be able to open it.”
“Just relax. Relax. We can only handle one thing at a time. You called 911. They’ll be here soon. Just chill. We still don’t know what’s happening yet, and we shouldn’t jump to conclusions. We need you to keep a level head, OK?”