Story Cubes 8 - The Relay Call

This week my entry is taken from real life. Some might even call this a "true story". I was there, so I know it's not precisely accurate, and I guess that's what makes it fiction.

If you haven't already, check out the other stories in the comments at STORYCUBES and if you're a creator, submit your entry! While you're there give an upvote for all the work @jocobtothe puts in to make all this possible.

This week I'm using the Snap!, Small Voice, Hand of Interruption, and another cube which I won't tell you just yet. I hope you enjoy this slightly embellished (but not very much) account of a most memorable day.

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Image Credit: Pixabay

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The Relay Call

"Is this Sergeant Graves? Over." It was a relay call, and I could hear the snaps and hisses of static from each bounce along the ham radio system. That voice left Portugal and was relayed from one operator to the next; to Israel, then Pakistan, India, Malaysia, Indonesia, Japan, Hawaii and finally California. On my end the voice sounded small and far away, like an old AM radio on the edge of reception.

I sat next to the payphone in a wooden ladder-back chair. Advanced Microwave School was almost finished. I’d been doing the job for two years but with the last promotion there came an education requirement, so here I was. "This is Sergeant Graves. Over"

"Sir, I've been tasked by your wife to call you. Over."

Okay, I'm just going to leave out all the overs. We had to say it so the ham operators could coordinate their work. Go ahead and just assume we're saying "Over" after each time we speak. Otherwise, this gets real messy, real fast with 'overs', over and over. Good? Good.

"Is she alright? Who am I speaking with?" I sat forward, leaning in closer to the phone. The signal faded in and out as it traveled around the earth. In the static, I could hear the pops and cracks of random storms along the way. Those ham operators were really working to keep this line alive. She made this call every week, and I knew today she'd have results from last week's ultrasound.

"Sir, this is Airman MacDonald. I work with the Communications Group at Lajes."

"Where is my wife?" I squinted my eyes and leaned in even closer. The image of ham operators in my mind disappeared, replaced by the pounding of my heartbeat. My wife was pregnant with our first child. We were almost five months in, with ears and everything.

“Is she all right, airman?

"She's fine, sir. She just wanted me to call and tell you that your car caught fire and burned to the ground. It says here that it melted, sir."

"My car melted?" I’d dreamt of that squat little Fiat Spider since I was a boy. Driving it along the cobblestone roads of Terceira was… well, sex wasn’t as good as driving that car... for the last couple months, at least. Sure, it was in the shop more than it was on the road, but it was my dream car. It practically drove itself. When it drove, I mean. "What the hell happened to my car?"

"I don't know about that, sir. All I know is this says there was gas in the back and it exploded."

"My car exploded! What the f..."

He cut me off. Didn’t even wait for my ‘over’. "Sir, there's something else."

"What's this, more bad news?"

"It says here that... I'm going to read this part, sir. It says, 'Cricket driving, is fine, cast and crutches…"

My turn to cut him off. "Is this a joke she's pulling? Cricket shouldn't be driving any car. Her leg’s been broken for a month! What's going on?" Cricket was my wife’s best friend.

"I'm just reading the paper here, sir. 'Cricket' was driving and the car exploded. And sir? There's something else."

"Yes, airman?"

"It's just one word, sir, so I'm not certain what it means."

"What's the word, airman?"

“It’s all caps and underlined twice, sir.”

"What is the word, airman?"

"Twins, sir. The word is twins."

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