I’ve Been Hearing Something Creepy On My Radio, Someone Is Trying To Contact Me And I Think I Know Who

“Are you so scared,” Fred demanded, “that you won’t even try? You won’t even try? You won’t even try to get out?”

“Oh Jesus,” I said, and I hadn’t even known I’d said it until I heard my own voice echoing in the empty room.

There was a sudden eerie silence.

“What?” Fred asked, but Amelia shushed him, getting closer to the microphone.

“I heard something,” she hissed. “Hello, hello, is anyone there?”

My tongue felt stuck to the roof of my mouth but I forced myself to speak again.

“I’m here,” I said, and what she said next made my blood run cold.

“This is Amelia Earhart.” I barely had time to digest this before she went on. “South 391065 Z. 3E MJ3B. Z38, Z13, 8983638.”

Amelia Earhart?

I stared at the radio.

This was a joke, for sure, someone was fucking with me but no, I’d listened this long that I knew it was no joke, and how the hell was someone fucking with me when they could hear me through the radio? What kind of joke was that? How would anyone pull something like that off?

I didn’t know what she’d just said, didn’t understand any of it because of course I didn’t. It had been meant for an air traffic controller, or an airport, someone who knew what those codes were. It’s who she thought I was, not some dumb 27 year old girl whose grandmother had just died, whose grandmother was the only reason she’d even switched on the radio in the first place.

“Hurry,” Amelia said, and the hope in her voice broke my heart.


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