It Calls

A science fiction short story from The Lewis Town Chronicles.

Lewis Town, October 30, 1985

The lights in LTLT Channel 8 studio 3 flickered, then faded out as a frantic, anonymous hushed voice gave directions off camera. Queue music. Instead of coming back with over-illuminated intensity, blue spotlights cast a glow on a woman in a deep red leotard, bejeweled across the torso. Her face, painted yellowish-green under the cheekbones and around the eyes, intended for her countenance to appear deathly. Her hair, a wild pixie cut of curls had been sprayed with hairspray so that it stuck up in ghastly wisps. The tips were frosted white.

Michael Jackson’s song, Thriller, kicked on in the background, was turned up too loud, then back down. Viewers at home could barely hear the magic voice of the pop star sing about evil lurking in the dark and creatures creeping up behind, while the woman in the leotard danced. She tried to keep step with the rhythm, but the music wouldn’t sync with her disjointed movements, causing the homage to falter. After a few minutes the music faded into the background, along with her enthusiasm. Without warning the fluorescent overhead lights flipped on, flooding the room.

Two young men, barely out of high school, sat in tan plaid easy chairs behind the woman, clapping wildly. The entire stage projected that of a comfortable living room, with wood paneling over the walls, deep blue carpet, a soft maple coffee table and two end tables. Several movie posters adorned the walls, including Close Encounters of the Third Kind, E.T. and The Thing. One of the men stood up and walked over to the woman, still clapping. She breathed heavily after her routine, smiled shyly and went to adjust her bangs, forgetting they were plastered in place.

“Let’s hear it for Cass!” he said. “Thank you dear, for that fantastic dance number on the night before Halloween. Take a bow, take a bow.”

Cass took a bow, then trotted off stage with the gallant light foot reminiscent of a show horse. The cameraman panned with her, forgot his host, then awkwardly panned back, a sure sign of an amateur assigned the late night duties associated with local access television. The host looked perturbed before his frown turned back into a friendly smile as he sat down in his comfortable chair.

“Alright, we’re back. It’s almost midnight, and this is The Paranormal Hour. I’m your host, Corey Grossman and this is my co-host Keith Jackson,” the man said. “You know the drill — we’re talking all things aliens, mysterious lights in the sky, mystical forces from other worlds, creatures that fly above and creep below our fair town, and we might get a little spooky in this episode with Halloween right around the corner.”

“That’s right, Corey,” Keith said, pulling close an electronic switchboard on the end table. “Let’s get things rolling with a few phone calls.”

They sat quiet, waiting for the switchboard to light up, which it soon did. Keith pushed a yellow blinking button and said, “Hello caller, you’ve entered another dimension with Corey and Keith. Tell us what’s on your mind.”

“Hey Corey, I see you didn’t have any problem asking Cass to be on the show,” a woman’s voice said with a tinge of anger.

“Bev, you said you had to work the night shift. We found a backup. You know you’re still my number one girl,” Corey said.

“Not anymore, you cheat. I know you’ve got a thing for Cass. Now you can have her,” Bev said. The line disconnected.

“My man Corey is in big trouble, but it also sounds like he’s free, ladies,” Keith said.

“Let’s stick to the paranormal and get another caller,” Corey said. “People of Lewis Town, we want to talk about what thing inhabits the waters of South Twin Lake. More sightings popped up this summer, including a few reports of a green glow from under the waters. Is it toxic ooze or an ominous sign? Caller, tell us what you know.”

“Yeah, hey, this is Tommy Bass. I got something interesting,” a young man said.

“Tommy! I saw you QB on Friday night in the varsity game. That was a radical performance,” Keith said.

“Yeah, thanks, but we got bigger fish to fry. There are some strange people showing up in Lewis Town. A company called Obsidian Dynamics is buying up all of the cabins over on North Twin Lake, you know, paying crazy prices. My dad has been contracted to handle repairs on a few of the older places. They must be government spooks or something,” Tommy said.

“The men in black are invading Lewis Town, a rumor I’ve heard from more than just Tommy. Thanks for the confirmation, buddy,” Corey said.

“Let’s take another caller. We need to uncover the identity of our out-of-town guests and hear more about the thing at the bottom of the lake. Are the two possibly related?” Keith asked, pressing another button.

Static filled the studio, high pitched white noise, followed by a few clicks and then deep breathing. The hosts looked at each other confused, thinking it may be a technical malfunction.

“Caller, are you there?” Corey asked.

“You boys better leave well enough alone,” a man with a raspy cigarette-tainted voice said.

“Well, well, have we got our first spook calling into the show?” Corey asked.

“You’re only going to get one warning. Don’t go poking your noses around where they don’t belong. The lakes contain an unspeakable abomination. Let it be… for your own safety,” the man said. A loud shrieking blasted across the speakers. Corey covered his ears. Keith leaped at the switchboard and disconnected the call.

“Well, that was certainly the most interesting conversation we’ve had here on The Paranormal Hour. Keith, let’s keep this party going,” Corey said.

“Caller from outer space or from the unhallowed underworld, no matter where you’re located, tell us what’s on your mind,” Keith said, pressing another button.

A distortion, deep and echoed came through the speakers, the sound of whale song, but distant and fragmented. The voice that spoke garbled words, unrecognizable as human, unclear in origin.

“You boys want to know what lies below the lake, in wait, for when the time is right to rise up and conquer?” it asked.

“Wow, we’ve got some real movie magic here with that voice modulator. A nice touch,” Corey said.

“Sure, tell us what lies in wait. We’re dying to know,” Keith said.

“How about I show you? Are you willing? The flesh is weak, but if the mind is willing, you can survive for eternity in this pleasant darkness,” it said.

Keith and Corey stared at each other, smiles across their faces, pleasantly surprised and fascinated by the evening’s show. Lewis Town residents called in on occasion, to spread rumors or pass along worthless gossip, but tonight had stirred up a pot of crazies that was sure to make their local access program more popular. Corey grew excited at the prospect of shopping around the taping of the show to bigger broadcasters.

“Um, well, what did you have in mind, caller?” Corey asked.

“It’s time to show my gathering adversaries, that while my powers are untested in this realm, they are real and extraordinary. All you need to do is willingly concede,” it said.

“You mean agree to be taken?” Corey asked.

“No. Agree to be born again of the abyss, locked in concert with the dark matter of the cosmos, living in these watery depths,” it said.

“Corey, you’re no longer shackled to the chains of a woman. Care to take up our caller on that?” Keith asked.

Corey looked over at Keith, and beneath the brash exterior, the confidence he so often exuded faded. A tinge of doubt seeped across his eyes and brow. What he and Keith examined on the surface provided entertainment value and fascinated an audience willing to suspend disbelief. But the truth was he believed there were dangerous forces roaming free; when given an open door, they could slip into his reality.

“Well, caller, Corey doesn’t seem too sure, but as the faithful sidekick, I’m willing to take you up on that offer. Count me in,” Keith said.

“Keith, don’t you—” Corey started to say.

The lights in the studio dimmed, went blue, red then green and finally shattered in a shower of sparks. An electric hum filled the space, pushing out the walls and creating a chamber. A blanket of pitch black prevailed until a lit ambiance glowed dimly from an undetermined source. The slow cascade of water running down concrete could be heard in the distance, along with a gurgling from the recesses of an ancient organic body. Corey kept his eyes fixed on Keith, who shivered in the damp surroundings. He tried to speak to his friend from the same plaid chair, now out of place and time. His lips moved; silence. For a moment Keith caught a glimpse of Corey through ripples in space, but as he reached out in terror, a beast from beyond took hold and pulled him into the emptiness.

When the lights flickered back on, Keith was gone. Corey sat in disbelief, confused and afraid. The cameraman could not be located, either. Corey stood up and ran over to the exit, out into the hallway and down to the control room. He cut the live feed for their program, stopped the recording and rewound the tape to try and review the madness from a calm perspective. Static. All of it was static.

Over the coming weeks, a flurry of new rumors began to spread, although the firsthand accounts were few and far between. With no evidence to speak of, and no body to be found, the sheriff ruled it a missing person’s case. Bits and pieces of Corey’s story aligned with those who watched the program that night, up until a point — up until the fateful call, when the live feed went black. Some said if they looked closely, focused intently, they could make out two young men in the background, sitting just as they had in the studio, caught up in a cosmic anomaly, waiting for it to make good on a promise.

A month later the cameraman showed up back in Lewis Town. He couldn’t remember anything, not even his own name or profession, any memories now runoff from toxic waters, seeping into the cracks of the cosmos, lost forever. Corey could not stick around, could not be faced with whispers of dishonesty or worse. Nobody knows where he moved to after the incident, but he hears Keith’s cries from beyond in his nightmares. Worse yet, there is an unmistakable shape watching, waiting beside his old friend. It does not cry. It calls.