The Blank Channel

“One more thing,” Ben’s voice dropped lower. “If you hear Mara’s voice, don’t only listen to what she says. Listen to what word she’s missing.” The broadcast cut. “Missing a word?” Mara said. “What does that mean?” Cal asked. Nobody answered, because the tower door below them suddenly slammed. Someone shouted through a bullhorn: “Bluestone Bay Radio Tower is now closed. All personnel evacuate immediately.” It was Evan Cross, calm and neat and razor-clean, like he was announcing weather. “They found us,” Jessa said. Tobin grabbed the first open archive box and pulled it toward him. It wasn’t paper inside. It was cassette after cassette, all labeled with dates and no descriptions. He dug to the bottom and pulled free the oldest one.