Short Story - Mt Dismal

Bob, known far and wide in the radio circles as "scannerFreak," was always drawn to the high places. The way they called to him with their distant signals and strange transmissions. And nothing intrigued him more than the mysterious Mt. Dismal, an isolated communications site nestled deep in the mountains. Rumor had it that Mt. Dismal housed all sorts of government and emergency communication arrays, and for Bob, the challenge was irresistible.

He had prepared meticulously: extra batteries, a sturdy tripod for his long-range directional antenna, and his best handheld scanner equipped with CloseCall, just in case he stumbled upon something unexpected. The day he chose to go was cool and misty—perfect for keeping a low profile, as he liked it.

The drive up the winding mountain road was tricky, with steep drops on one side and dense forest on the other. His car groaned as it navigated the tight turns, gravel crunching beneath the tires. As he ascended, the air grew cooler and thinner, but Bob was focused. When he finally reached the old fire road that led to the summit, he parked and walked the rest of the way, carrying his gear like a seasoned mountaineer.

The communications site loomed above, its towers piercing through the low-hanging clouds, blinking in the haze. A chain-link fence surrounded the site, topped with rusting barbed wire. The sign warned against trespassing, but Bob had no intention of getting that close. He found a clearing in the woods nearby, setting up his gear just beyond the reach of the security cameras.

As he switched on his scanner, the familiar hum of frequencies greeted him. Bob felt a rush of excitement as he started tuning in, scanning through the channels. The air around Mt. Dismal was dense with signals—weather reports, aviation chatter from nearby air traffic, and bursts of encrypted messages that piqued his curiosity. But one signal caught his attention more than any other: a faint, erratic transmission, low on the spectrum, that didn’t seem to belong.

Bob adjusted the direction of his antenna, triangulating the signal. It was coming from the direction of the main tower, and the static-filled voice crackled in his headphones, barely discernible. He recognized it as some kind of telemetry, but it had a peculiar pattern, almost like a coded pulse. He jotted down the frequency, noting the strange intervals, feeling like he was on the verge of discovering something truly unusual.

Just then, the sound of crunching gravel snapped him out of his focus. Bob froze, peering through the underbrush. A white utility truck, marked with a nondescript logo, was crawling up the road toward the facility. Two men in uniforms got out, carrying toolboxes and looking preoccupied as they headed toward the fence. Bob held his breath, staying perfectly still, hoping his dark clothing and the mist would hide him from view.

The men fiddled with the gate, and one of them muttered something into a radio clipped to his vest. Bob caught a burst of audio from their transmission on his scanner—something about "recalibrating the uplink." He quickly scribbled more notes, his mind racing. What uplink? To where? It was exactly the kind of mystery that kept him climbing mountains and chasing signals.

After what felt like an eternity, the workers disappeared inside the gate, and Bob let out a quiet sigh of relief. He continued his scans, trying to piece together more of the strange signal’s origin. But the mist thickened, and a chill ran down his spine when the scanner picked up a new burst—clearer now, and unsettlingly rhythmic. It almost sounded like a series of coded instructions.

His curiosity burned, but he knew better than to linger too long. With the workers nearby and the weather turning, he packed up his gear, stowing away the precious notes. The hike back down the mountain was tense, every snap of a twig in the forest keeping him on edge. But when he finally reached his car, he couldn’t help but smile—Mt. Dismal had lived up to its reputation.

Back in his garage that night, Bob pored over his notes, replaying the strange signal and decoding its patterns with his computer. He posted a cryptic message to his favourite radio forum, teasing about "finding a new mystery on the mountain." But the full details? Those he kept to himself, savouring the thrill of the unknown.

As he leaned back in his chair, headphones still catching faint echoes from the mountain, Bob knew he’d be back to Mt. Dismal someday. There were more secrets in those clouds, just waiting to be uncovered by a curious mind with a scanner and a knack for adventure.