Funhouse (4 page)

“Okay.” Doyle said, perching on the edge of his seat and wringing his hands. “The reason I asked you to come is because I wanted to get your opinion on something that’s pretty crazy.”

“
Yeah? Like what?”

“
That hi-fi I had you look at for me, I was testing it out and found something.”

“
Okay!” Terry said, flashing an amused smile. Doyle knew that his friend wasn’t taking him seriously, and instead of explaining further, he stood.

“
It’s easier to show you. Come on through to the workshop.”

Doyle led the way into the workshop, which was in reality the spare bedroom that was now so full of electronic gizmos in various states of repair, that it resembled a workshop. Doyle sat at the bench in front of the hi-fi, as Terry perched on the edge of the bed. Doyle checked his watch, and was filled with a giddy excitement. It was two minutes to ten.

He switched on the hi fi, and watched the display illuminate, then he selected the radio, the room filling with a static hiss.

“
So?” Terry asked. “What’s happening?”

“
Just wait. Okay?”

They waited. Time had now reverted to its slow crawl as the seconds went by. Doyle waited, and on some level was sure that he had imagined it all, and the station would not come on air. He ignored the amused stare of his friend, and instead concentrated all of his efforts on the
stereo.

Ten o clock.

Doyle’s mouth was dry, and his heart was beating a little too quickly as he waited.

“
What are we waiting for?” Terry asked, half amused and half concerned at his friends behavior.

“
Give it a second.”

Terry smiled. “Okay, whatever you say, but I wish you...”

Hello, hello, hello. Its ten pm on Wednesday evening, and that means it’s time for the DJ D show, here from now until midnight. We have a lot coming up tonight, including some new tracks by some old favorites. But first, some sad news for the community.

Long-time Oakwell resident, Hal Johnson, died today aged sixty four as a result of a heart attack. Mr Johnson owned the store on Main Street, and will be sadly missed by everyone in the community. But now, let’s get back to the music; here is Jim Morrison with his new single, only the way I go.

“What the…”

Terry paused mid-sentence, and Doyle saw him go through the same processes that he had the night before. The two friends sat there in silence, and listened to the thirty seven years dead Jim Morrison sing his brand new song. They listened to the broadcast from beginning to end. They heard new material from a veritable who’s who of musical history. New songs from Lennon, Elvis, Joplin, and even a particularly rousing guitar based duet between Jimi Hendrix and Dimebag Darrell, who had been shot and killed on stage back in 2004. When the show ended, and the airwaves were once again filled with static, the two friends shared a look which said more than words ever could, because they both knew that they had experienced something impossible.

“So, what do we do now?” Doyle asked.

Terry licked his lips and cleared his throat. “I think I have an
idea.”

Terry
had promised to come back the following day, and had left Doyle to try and see if he could find any reference or listings related to the radio station or the DJ. His searches had drawn a blank, and as his frustration reached boiling point, which his sleepless night hadn’t helped, he heard Terry’s familiar knock on the door.

He knew as soon as he saw his pale faced friend that something was wrong. He had a bag with him, but also had a vacant expression which Doyle had never seen before.

“What’s wrong?”

“
You got anything to drink?” Terry said, answering the question with one of his own.

“
Beer?”

“
Anything stronger?”

“
Yeah, there’s scotch in the kitchen.”

Terry nodded and shuffled into the apartment. Doyle was concerned. He knew that Terry didn’t drink, and hadn’t touched a drop of booze since the day his divorce came through. Doyle counted back the years to when it was, and was shocked to realise that it was more than four years ago. He followed into the kitchen, where Terry sat at the table. He had found the bottle, and was pouring a glass as Doyle sat opposite.

“Want one?” Terry asked as he finished pouring a large glassful.

“
No, no thanks.”

Terry nodded, screwed the lid back on the bottle and took a long drink, draining the glass. He set it down and looked across the table at Doyle.

“He wasn’t dead.”

“
Who?”

“
Mr Johnson. From the store.”

Doyle felt his stomach somersault, and considered joining his friend in a mid-morning tipple.

“You sure?”

Terry laughed, the sound sharp and only an octave away from shrill. “I spoke to him, he served me.” He shook his head and finished off the rest of his drink.

“Surely this is a good thing; I mean maybe it’s all a hoax.” Doyle said hopefully.

Terry looked at him his eyes haunted and vacant.

“You don’t get it, he
wasn’t
dead. But I’m pretty sure he is now.”

“
What do you mean? Come on, spit it out Terry! What happened?”

“
As I said, he served me in the store. He was making small talk, just doing his attentive storekeeper part, and it happened. He grabbed at his arm and fell to the floor.”

“
Jesus!” Doyle said, finally deciding to pour himself another drink. He topped up Terry’s glass as well as filling one of his own.

“
There were only a few people in the store, and we tried to save him, but we couldn’t. He died right there on the floor.”

Doyle said nothing. His brain was too busy coping with the situation. Terry continued.

“How could he know? The DJ on the radio. How could he know a full day before it happened?”

“
Probably the same reason that they play music that shouldn’t exist from artists that are long dead.”

“
You think it’s supernatural?” Terry asked, finally making eye contact with his friend.

“
Well, you know I’m a skeptic to things like this, but what the hell else could it be?”

“
Look, all I know is that I have been trying to think of a plausible explanation for this, but so far I’m coming up empty.”

“
So.” Doyle said as he sipped the bitter liquid. “What do we do now?”

Terry picked up the bag, and emptied the contents on the table. Doyle looked over the collection of wires, resistors, circuit boards and chips, and raised an eyebrow at Terry.

“I think I can hook up a device to trace the signal. Find out where it’s broadcasting from.”

“
Is that something we even want to know?”

“
Aren’t you curious?”

“
Of course I am, but I’m not ashamed to say I’m also pretty scared by the situation.”

“
Then let’s just go one step at a time, see if we can get a fix on this broadcast, then decide from there what we want to do. Okay?”

Doyle nodded, and stood, pacing about the kitchen.

“Okay, build the unit and we can tune in tonight and see if we can get a fix on the place.”

             
When it was completed, the unit looked like a small sat nav, with a series of dials on the front. It was just a few minutes to ten o clock, and Doyle and Terry were apprehensive.

             
  “As soon as he starts to broadcast, this unit should be able to pinpoint the source of the transmission.” Terry said.

             
Doyle nodded, impressed and nervous in equal measure. “Then what?”

Terry sighed, and rubbed his temples. “I don’t know, I haven’t thought that far ahead.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t do this.”

“
Why not? I don’t see what harm it can do.”

“
Do we really know that? I mean this is far from an ordinary situation, Terry.”

“
Then why bring me in on it? You wanted my help to find answers, didn’t you?”

“
I did — I
do
. I just don’t want us to get in over our heads that’s all.”

Terry was about to respond when the static cleared, and the broadcast began. He picked up the unit and looked at Doyle.

“Well?” He asked.

Doyle licked his lips, and tried to still the gnawing in his stomach.

“Okay, go ahead and do it.”

Terry nodded, and turned on the device, as the DJ went into his motor mouth routine.

Just one day to the weekend late night listeners and we are going to get you in the party spirit tonight. We have an exclusive interview with the legend, the megastar. Michael Jackson is here in the studio tonight to talk about the circumstances of his death, and we also have worldwide exclusives from Tupac Shakur and the one, the only, the godfather of soul, James Brown. But first, some breaking news. Word has just reached DJ D, that the world famous rapper, Big T, has been shot and killed in a drive by shooting outside his Los Angeles home.

“
Check the news, and the internet.” Terry said.

“
On it.” Doyle shot back as he powered up his laptop.

Big T’s album, It’s All About T, went triple platinum just last year, and his fans are said to be devastated. His family have asked to be left alone to grieve in private. This one goes out to all the Big T fans, here is global number one smash hit, It Ain't Over ‘til the Phat lady sings. Check it out.

“Anything?” Terry asked as he tweaked the controls on the device.

“
Nothing, not a damn thing.” Doyle responded as he cycled through the local news sites. “I’ll go check the TV, see if the news channels have anything.”

Doyle stood and left the room, as Terry continued to tweak the device to the back drop of Big T’s colourful rap.

Doyle came back into the room. “Nothing on the news, or the internet. The guy isn’t dead.”

“
Not yet.” Terry said softly, as Doyle sat on the bed.

“
Is it working yet?”

“
Almost. The signal is bouncing all over the damn place. Give me a minute to fix it.”

That was Big T with, It Ain’t Over ‘til the Phat Lady Sings, played in tribute to the man himself, who was shot and killed in what looks to be a gang related attack. Rest in peace T. Next up, we have  our interview with the one, the only Michael Jackson, but first, check out the sultry tones of the beautiful Selina, with, All I Want is You, right here with DJ D, on 99.9 AM.

“Got it. Terry said, flashing a grin. “He’s broadcasting around three miles from here. My guess is from a motorhome or something.”