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Marcus settled into his chair, his face illuminated by the warm flicker of the tubes. He stretched a bit, cleared his throat, adjusted the headphones over his wild gray hair, then keyed the transmitter with the exaggerated flair of a maestro taking the stage.

Marcus leaned back and surveyed his surroundings, taking in the neat array of older equipment and scattered army surplus.

He found the hum of his new setup comforting, blending perfectly with the solitude of his surroundings.

He could imagine the trees and darkness outside closing in around the trailer, but none of that mattered.

This world was his, and he felt safe here within it.

A crackle came through the speaker. “November Charlie Zero Sierra Echo here, up in Nebraska. Did I catch that right? Is this the same Missouri operator I’m thinking of?” The voice was warm and friendly, laced with a Midwest twang.

“You’ve got him,” Marcus replied. “Sounding a bit different tonight?”

“I thought maybe I’d tuned in the wrong call sign,” Todd said. “I could swear you’re the same guy who was coming in strong on my end just last week. But you’re not the same Charlie Tango 4 Caesar Alpha I’m used to, are you? Come again.”

Marcus paused, reaching over to adjust the gain on the set. “That better?” he asked, expecting Todd to be impressed by the improved clarity.

“No change,” Todd said, almost laughing. “You must be using different equipment.”

Marcus beamed. “You’ve got that right. Same operator, different setup. Brand-new rig. It’s an old rig, just newly bought.”

“Knew it,” Todd replied. “I hardly recognize the sound. Why the switch?”

Marcus felt a thrill of excitement. “Bought it at an estate sale. Pre-transistorized set,” he said. He leaned forward, anticipating Todd’s reaction.

Todd broke in. “You mean it’s an old clunker?”

“More like a piece of history,” Marcus corrected, with an edge of pride in his voice. Vintage vacuum tubes. Circa 1950.”

There was a pause before Todd’s voice came back through. “You’re pulling my leg, right?”

Marcus chuckled, shaking his head. “Nope. It’s exactly what I was after. The old solid-state rigs are on the scrap heap now.”

Todd’s disbelief was palpable. “That’s a mistake, my friend. You’re too good an operator to settle for that junk.”

Marcus was ready for this. “I knew you’d say that, but you haven’t heard why.”

He was about to explain when a sudden, sharp knock at the door halted him mid-sentence. He sat frozen, his body tense, with his eyes darting nervously toward the source of the sound. But now everything was silent. Surely, he thought, it had been just his imagination playing tricks on him.

Then, another knock shattered the stillness, echoing through the room with even greater force, reverberating like a thunderclap in the silence.

“Hold on, Todd,” Marcus said, putting the set on standby. “Be right back.”

Swiftly, he yanked open the desk drawer and retrieved a sleek, cold semiautomatic pistol, its metal glinting under the dim light. He loaded it and stopped to listen again. Whoever was out there, they were about to make a grave error.

Marcus approached the door with caution, his senses heightened, fully expecting to glimpse a form slinking away into the inky night. Steeling himself, he took a deep breath and flung the door wide open, muscles tense in preparation for whatever confrontation awaited him.

Only darkness stretched beyond the weathered wooden deck, an oppressive void that seemed to whisper of hidden dangers. It enveloped him, accentuating the silence with its oppressive presence.

He called out into the night, his voice steady and commanding, concealing the tremors lurking beneath the surface. “You better get away from here! Next time you knock, I’ll shoot for sure!”

His words lingered in the air, a stern warning, before he added with a hint of menace, “I’ve killed trespassers before!”

It was a bluff, of course. But he shouted it with lots of conviction. Marcus scanned the trees, looking for movement, but the night remained silent. He slammed the door shut and returned to his radio, the gun still close at hand.

“Sorry about that,” Marcus said, settling back into his chair. “Where were we?”

“Everything okay?” Todd asked. “You sound a bit spooked.”

“Just someone snooping around,” Marcus replied. “Gets old. People get curious when you live out in the sticks.”

Todd chuckled. “From your call sign, I take it you live in Missouri. Maybe one of these days you’ll give your GPS coordinates. Or even tell me your real name. I might pay a visit.”

“Not a chance,” Marcus said. “For all I know, you’re not even who you say you are.”

“Now you gotta be joking,” Todd said, sounding almost offended.

Marcus’s tone grew more serious. “No more jokes.”

“You’re worrying me, Charlie Tango 4 Caesar Alpha.”

“That’s the idea,” Marcus replied. “I’ve been doing research, looking into some pretty dark nooks and crannies, and what I’ve found out isn’t pretty. State-of-the-art audio technology is a tool for government control. Integrated circuits, transistors, and microchips. All of it.”

“You have gone off the deep end,” Todd said, though there was more curiosity than mockery in his voice.

Marcus leaned closer to the set, determined to make Todd understand. “I’m getting rid of all of it. Keeping free from brainwashing, and giving you and the other operators fair warning.”

“Wait,” Todd said. “You’re serious?”

“As a heart attack,” Marcus replied.

There was a long pause. Then, breaking the silence, Todd erupted into laughter, a hearty, unrestrained sound that echoed around the room.

Marcus’s anger flared. “You’re the perfect example of a puppet to the powers that be. Better throw out that radio of yours before it’s too late.”

“And what? Switch to two tin cans and some string?”

Marcus felt his pulse racing. “If you want to be on the safe side.”

“Now you sound more like the Charlie Tango 4 Caesar Alpha I know,” Todd said. “Just looking out for number one.”

“Damn right,” Marcus replied. “I’d suggest you do the same.”

Another knock echoed through the room, louder and more insistent this time.

Marcus stiffened, his eyes wide with panic as his breath caught in his throat.

“Hang on,” he muttered to Todd, exasperated.

This was no longer a simple matter of curiosity; it felt far more serious.

Perhaps they had sent someone to find him.

He couldn’t afford to expose himself for too long.

He was all too aware of the fate that awaited those who mistakenly believed they were secure.

Marcus snatched up the pistol again and moved toward the door. “Don’t show your face,” he shouted, his voice cracking with intensity. “I’ll shoot on sight.”

He threw the door open. The deck was empty. The night was quiet. Marcus’s breath came heavy as he strained to see movement in the trees. The loudest sound was the blood rushing through his ears.

With mounting frustration, he stepped down from the deck, wishing he’d brought a flashlight instead of a gun. He squinted into the barely moonlit darkness, straining to see. Maybe it was a prank. He was too far from town for kids, but who else would be so brazen?

He fired a shot into the air to prove he meant business.

The crack of the gunshot seemed to reverberate through the woods. Marcus listened to it fade into the stillness. “You got your warning!” he yelled, wheeling around with suspicion in his eyes. “Now clear out!”

The attack came from behind. A figure leaped from the shadows. A cord wrapped tightly around Marcus’s neck.

He clawed at it, gasping, feeling his knees give way. Then darkness engulfed him, pulling him into unconsciousness.

From inside the trailer, a faint voice kept asking, "Charlie Tango 4 Caesar Alpha, are you okay?"