Free Transmission: A Supernatural Thriller by Ambrose Ibsen Page A

noisy sip. “So, what're you finding over there?” he asked, nudging Kenji's leg with his foot.
    Kenji scarcely looked up from his screen. He'd pulled up the album, Dreams in Black Static, in one tab, and the war documentary in the other. With lightning fast speed he scanned websites dedicated to both, scouring them for any other similarities aside from the date of their release. He looked first at the listings discussing the album, of which there were precious few. The band members were the only listed personnel involved in its production, and he knew all of them had died in a plane crash. Dead end.
    Next, he turned his fevered attention to the official website of the documentary. There was a list of cast and crew to be found there, and he was overjoyed to find that there were photos of the cast posted alongside the credits. Finding the pale woman in the video would be a simple thing if she was at all involved with the making of the documentary.
    That was a big “if”, though. A scan of the numerous faces on the page, and then another, failed to yield anyone who looked even remotely like the woman he sought. Apparently she wasn't involved with the documentary after all.
    Sighing, Kenji snatched the big red cup Dylan had offered him and sucked in a few mouthfuls of sweetened coffee. “Dead end,” he muttered.
    Dylan was on his third donut by that point, and his cheeks bulged out as though he were a rodent hoarding food. “What do you mean?” he asked around a bolus of fried dough. A blue sprinkle escaped his mouth, dropping down onto the tabletop. “Nothing?”
    Kenji shook his head. The woman wasn't involved with the production of either the documentary or the album, as best he could tell. “Not a thing.”
    Dylan frowned, choking down his food. “OK, what if it's something about the three of us... like, what if there's something that links all of us together and that's why we ended up meeting at this spot?” He turned to Reggie. “What's your story, Reggie?”
    Drawing in a deep breath, Reggie shrugged. “Well, I dunno what you want me to say here. I've never seen that woman before watching the tape. I recorded that documentary because I wanted to see if my father's unit was featured in it-- he was a World War Two vet. I fought in Vietnam, myself. Retired now, living in St. Paul. Once upon a time I played around with HAM radios-- that was how I knew those letters and numbers she repeated were Maidenhead coordinates. And you two?”
    Dylan went first while Kenji worked on his coffee. “I'm a chemistry major. Still have two years left before I graduate, same as Kenji. He studies linguistics, though. We both go to UW-Madison. We're roommates, in fact. He downloaded that album off of an illegal pirate website and brought it to my attention just last night. I was the one who suggested we follow the coordinates and come out here, though. Some guy in our dorm filled us in and explained the Maidenhead thing. At first, Kenji thought it was some sort of secret code.”
    Discussing their lives any further was beyond pointless. He and Dylan were as different from this man as could be. “This is getting us nowhere,” interrupted Kenji. “I don't think this has anything to do with us, in particular. We were just the ones who noticed it. Around the same time, no less. Something... maybe this date, May 10 th , has some significance, but...”
    Reggie slurped up more coffee and meditated a moment. He was working over his bagel when something suddenly dawned on him. “Well, both these things came out the same day, right? Maybe look it up online. May 10 th , 2006.”
    “That's a long-shot. We're going to get a ton of hits,” replied Kenji, typing the date into the search bar and reluctantly tapping Enter. As expected, thousands of results were returned. He stifled a groan. He could sift through this mess for days and never stumble upon anything of use.
    “Whatcha got?” asked Reggie, leaning in and looking at the