Free Transmission: A Supernatural Thriller by Ambrose Ibsen

reception.
    There was no signal to be found.
    “I already tried, dude,” said Dylan. “It's a dead zone out here.”
    “Awesome.” Kenji was about to stuff the phone into his pocket when the slightest impression of a signal flashed across the status bar. “Wait a minute, I've got a real weak signal coming in here.” He held the phone over his head, hoping that the signal might hold, and when it did, he opened the browser.
    Carefully, as though typing too quickly would scare the signal away, Kenji did a search for the documentary, Segregation In The Second World War: A Visual History . The results loaded very sluggishly, and for a while there, as the three of them huddled around Kenji's phone, they feared that they wouldn't load at all. Finally, however, after a wait of some minutes, the results populated the screen and some basic information about the documentary was made available to them.
    Of particular interest was the date of its production, which was among the first facts to come up in the search. It'd been released on May 10 th , 2006. That made it over ten years old.
    Kenji pursed his lips, falling deep into thought. Something about that number, ten years, sent up a red flag for him. It didn't take him long to realize why.
    “Wait a second...” Clearing the browser, Kenji typed something new into the search bar. Dreams in Black Static . That was the name of the album by Jackal Priest, which had included the voice of this woman in its opening track. Unless he was mistaken, it was also about ten years old. It was a tenuous link, but he was desperate for something, anything that might further his understanding of this matter.
    Again, the three of them waited with held breath for the results to load. The information came   very, very slowly, and more than once the signal was lost. Kenji stood near the window, waving his phone in the air and trying to recapture the single bar he'd locked onto. Finally, when the results had popped up, he looked at his screen and began reading.
    What he found there stunned him.
    At a loss for words, he held the phone out for Reggie and Dylan to see, and when they failed to notice what'd so impressed him, he began to explain. “The dates... the album we found her voice on, as well as the documentary, were both released on the same day, ten years ago. Both came out on May 10 th , 2006.”
    Reggie broke out in nervous laughter, pacing away from the other two and clapping his hands. “You're kidding me, right? That's... that's a hell of a coincidence there.”
    But they were well past the point of writing things off as mere coincidence. This detail was more proof that something was going on here. “No coincidence,” muttered Kenji, massaging his jaw and pocketing his phone. “We need to look into this connection a little deeper. Gotta find some place with better cell service or WiFi.”
    “We passed a Tim Horton's on our way here,” began Dylan. “It was outside the last town, on the highway, I think. Wanna go there? You've got your laptop in the car, right?”
    Kenji was already marching out the door by the time Dylan finished.
    Reggie followed, smirking. “He's a little headstrong, ain't he?”
    Dylan shook his head, closing the door to the shack behind them and heading for the Honda. “Headstrong ain't the word. Obsessed is more like it.”

TWELVE

    Kenji and Dylan drove in the Honda, while Reggie followed in his LeSabre. The trio arrived at the empty Tim Horton's along the highway nearly forty minutes later. Upon arrival, Kenji had raced inside, laptop bag in tow, and had set up at the table nearest the shop's only visible power outlet. Meanwhile, Reggie and Dylan placed an order for coffee and donuts. Dylan picked up a pair of Double-Doubles for himself and Kenji, and carried over a half dozen mixed donuts to the large table where Kenji was now stationed and typing away furiously.
    Reggie sauntered over with a coffee and bagel, dropping into the nearest booth and taking a