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A July moon cast its eerie glow over Lola Wigton and Max Riker as they snuck up a hill that overlooked Trentville.

Lola, still giddy from a late-night movie, led the way, her petite frame weaving through the undergrowth like a mischievous pixie.

She was headed for the old radio tower, a sight more sinister than romantic.

The crickets were loud, nearly drowning out the sound of their hushed giggles and the crunch of their footsteps.

Their cellphone flashlights revealed only their closest surroundings as they made their way around trees and through underbrush.

Max kept shooting paranoid glances over his shoulder, as if the very night might give their adventure away.

Lola pulled Max along, her fingers intertwined with his, urging him to keep up.

She let out a breathless laugh as a branch snagged her hair, and she pulled free with a determined tug.

She thought that Max’s hesitations were sweet but unnecessary.

Surely they had nothing to fear from these familiar woods where the air was thick with the smell of honeysuckle.

“Why did we even go to that stupid movie if this really what you wanted to do tonight?” Max asked, still trying to keep his voice low. “Were you planning this all along?

Lola grinned at him over her shoulder, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Can’t a girl want a little adventure now and then?” she replied. “Besides, I thought you might chicken out if you knew ahead of time.”

Max shook his head but couldn’t hide his smile. “You are one crazy girl, Lola Wigton.”

The path grew steeper, and Lola slowed down, feeling the pull of Max’s hand.

The radio tower she was headed toward was already visible against the star-studded sky, its red lights blinking a constant warning.

A warm breeze rustled the leaves, and Lola took a moment to breathe it all in—the scents of summer, the thrill of sneaking out, the boy she loved, who would always rather be safe than sorry.

“Did you hear that?” Max said, freezing mid-step.

Lola strained her ears, hearing nothing out of the ordinary. “Hear what?” she asked, amused.

“I don’t know... something,” Max said, scanning the darkness.

Lola rolled her eyes. “It’s just the night, dummy. Relax.”

As they continued, Max kept constantly glancing back, worried he’d find a police officer on their trail. He knew this whole area was supposed to be closed to the public.

In just a short time, with no interruptions or signs of anyone else out on that hillside, Max was feeling better. When they reached a bend in the path he decided it was time for payback. He stopped suddenly, his eyes wide with feigned fear.

“Lola, look!” he whispered, pointing into the darkness. “I think I saw something move!”

Lola’s heart leapt, but only for a moment. She saw the grin twitching at the corner of Max’s mouth and let out a laugh that was half relief, half exasperation. She punched him lightly on the arm. “You jerk! You almost gave me a heart attack!”

Max chuckled, enjoying his small victory. “You’re too easy, Wigton.”

“Oh, yeah? I’ll show you easy,” Lola said, pretending to sulk but already forming a plan for revenge.

Max’s laughter echoed through the trees as they moved farther up the path. A screech owl called out in the distance, adding to the eeriness of the night. Then Lola faked a stumble over an exposed root and went down hard, clutching one ankle.

“Ouch!” she cried out, her voice pitched just right. “My ankle!”

Max was at her side in an instant, worry replacing the mirth on his face. He knelt beside her, reaching out a tentative hand. “Are you okay? Can you walk?”

Lola kept her head down, biting her lip to stifle a laugh. Max leaned in closer, trying to see her face in the dim light.

The moment he was within reach, she sprang up, her expression triumphant.

“Gotcha!” she yelled, and before Max could react, she dashed off into the woods, her feet pounding against the forest floor. She switched off her light, disappearing like a shadow.

“Lola!” Max called, torn between amusement and alarm. He stumbled after her, the beam of his flashlight bouncing erratically as he tried to keep up. “Come back! Or at least wait for me.”

But Lola ran, exhilaration driving her faster and farther. She knew these woods better than anyone. She dodged low-hanging branches, her breath coming in happy gasps, the thrill of the chase sparking in her eyes.

Pausing behind a thick oak, she watched Max’s cellphone light dance frantically through the trees behind her.

“Over here, slowpoke!” she called, her voice ringing with laughter.

She flicked her iPhone’s light on and off, sending playful signals that made it easy for him to find her if he only tried.

Max’s voice carried through the night, equal parts affection and annoyance. “I’m going to get you, Wigton!”

Lola grinned, waiting until he was close enough to see the glint of determination in his eyes. She loved how serious he got about things like this—loved how he would always try, even if she always won. At the last second, she bolted again, heading straight for the radio tower.

The game continued, a mix of taunts and laughter filling the summer air.

Max was determined but he had no chance.

She was fast, and she was focused, and she wanted to win more than anything.

As she broke through the last line of trees, the old radio tower loomed large and silent against the night sky.

Lola skidded to a stop, her chest heaving with exertion and triumph. She turned back to the woods, her voice teasing and bright. “Max, you really need to work on your—” Her words died on her lips as she glanced back at the tower.

A chill settled over her, the warm night turning cold in an instant. Something odd was lashed to the framework.

A step closer and she saw that it was a man’s body, its arms and legs spread wide like a grotesque marionette. The victim’s head lolled to the side, eyes staring lifelessly at nothing, mouth open in a frozen scream.

Lola’s cellphone fell from her hand, hitting the ground with a harsh clatter.

The flashlight’s beam wavered, then stilled, casting a stark, accusing light on the horrific scene.

Lola sank to her knees, her scream starting as a choked whimper before exploding into the night.

It was a sound of pure terror, unlike anything she’d ever heard herself make.

Max burst from the tree line, his face a mix of panic and confusion, knowing that this scream had been real. He rushed to her side, eyes following her stricken gaze to the tower. The color drained from his face, and his flashlight slipped from his grip, spinning crazily across the ground.

“Oh my God,” he whispered.

Their carefree adventure shattered like glass, the reality of the dead man’s eyes crashing over them both.

Lola felt Max’s arms around her, pulling her close as if he could shield her from the nightmare they had stumbled into.

The blinking red lights on the tower seemed to mock their horror, as merciless as the summer stars.

***

Jenna awoke to radio static. As she blinked against the hazy morning light, she turned to see her alarm clock transformed.

Instead of the familiar digital display, an old-time radio now sat on her nightstand.

Its wood casing gleamed in the early morning glow.

Then she felt a familiar prickling awareness and knew she was dreaming.

Fully lucid now, she listened to a hiss of radio static, straining to hear what lay beneath.

There—she detected a voice trying to emerge but couldn’t make out what it was saying.

She reached for the radio, moving with a surreal slowness.

She grasped the knob, turning it in a deliberate attempt to clarify the words.

The radio grew larger as Jenna adjusted the knob, the entire radio expanded until it loomed over her, as large as a house. She strained to control the growing knob, feeling its size resist her grip. Then it suddenly dropped off in her hands, leaving a round hole where it had been.

At this point in her lucid dream, she had a choice whether to investigate this strange space or to turn away.

Jenna leaned forward and peered into the hole.

The space beyond beckoned with a soft, eerie glow, and she knew was looking at the inside of the radio.

As she hesitated, the hum of static more intense now, calling to her like a living thing.

With a final glance behind, she squeezed herself through the round opening.

Inside, she felt dwarfed by the vastness, surrounded by gigantic vacuum tubes that towered like ancient pillars, their light guiding her deeper into a labyrinth. The noise was all around her, a buzz and hum that rattled her mind, but she pressed on.

“Hello?” she called, the word swallowed by static. Jenna’s frustration grew as she strained to hear the voice she’d detected earlier. It was still there, but just as an unintelligible whisper. She stood still, listening with fierce concentration, willing herself to make sense of it.

Then Jenna thought she heard words forming: “...the government... it’s them... they’re pulling the strings...only an idiot can’t see it …”

It was the spirit of a dead man trying to reach her, she was sure of that now.

“I’m here to help,” she shouted, her voice mingling with the static in a harsh chorus. She called again to the voice, her steps quickening as she made her way through the strange terrain.

The words grew clearer, a rant about technology and powers that be. Jenna knew she needed to understand it. The voice sounded desperate to convey something vital, and she would not let it elude her.

Finally, she saw him.

A bearded man, wild-eyed and frantic, stood at the edge of the jungle of tubes. He turned to face her, as if startled that she’d found him there.

“Get rid of them,” he shouted, his voice cutting through the static with fevered intensity. “Or you’ll end up just like me.” He clawed at his neck, revealing a bruise around his throat.

Jenna didn’t think she’d ever seen him before, but she did understand what he meant. After all, it was only the dead who visited her in lucid dreams like this one.

“How did it happen?” she asked, stepping closer.

He backed away, paranoia clouding his eyes. “You’re part of it,” he accused, his voice edged with panic. “Integrated circuits, microchips. Thought control.”

“I’m not part of anything,” Jenna insisted, her voice urgent. She needed him to keep talking. “Tell me more. Who are you?”

The static engulfed hem. The buzzing filling her mind as the man stood his ground. He seemed to rethink his paranoia and his accusation, a sly glint in his eyes. “All I have to tell you is Charlie Tango 4 Caesar Alpha.”

“What does that mean?” Jenna’s question went unanswered as a phone rang.

She jolted awake, the shrill sound of her cellphone jarring her from the dream. She blinked, disoriented. The old-fashioned radio was replaced by the clock radio on her nightstand, looking quite ordinary now. She saw that it was 1:35 a.m.

Jenna grabbed the phone. “Sheriff Graves,” she answered, her voice steadier than she felt.

A young officer’s voice came through. “We’ve got a dead body,” he reported. “It’s a murder. Near the old radio tower on the hill.”

Jenna’s heart skipped. “Call Deputy Hawkins and the Highway Patrol,” she instructed, already swinging her legs out of bed. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

She hung up, her mind a whirl of urgency and speculation.

As she dressed quickly, she tried to piece together the connection between the dream and the call.

It was no coincidence. The victim of this new murder was none other than the man who had appeared in her dream. She could feel it in her bones.

The radio tower, she thought, putting it together. Charlie Tango 4 Caesar Alpha.

It sounded like the call sign for a ham radio operator. Had the ghost in her dream been telling her his own call signal when she’d asked for his name?

Gun and badge close at hand, Jenna laced up her boots. The urgency of the phone call and the eerie details of her dream collided in her thoughts: the enigmatic message, the chilling vision, and now a real-world murder.