Snow, Part II

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It was half past six by the time Sidney’s Chevrolet pulled up next to Tom’s old Dodge at the station on the hill. The blowing snow gave the early morning light a surreal quality, as though the blue concrete box that was the TV station was an outpost on the surface of some windy alien planet.

The two stocky men piled out of the car.

“The bastard’s bolted the door.” Sidney shouted against the wind after shouldering it several times.

“Standard procedure,” shouted Al. “You wanted the place secure against being commandeered for communist propaganda.”

“I never said that.”

“Fifty-eight, when we moved out here.”

“Well, it could have been ya know.”

Sidney pounded on the door. “What about the back?”

“We can try it,” said Al, “probably bolted like the front; hasn’t even been opened since September.”

Inside, Tom smiled. He realized this was his last day at Channel 5. It was hard not to smile.

He cleared his throat again and spoke to a waiting audience that was now nearly a million.

“Good morning folks. I’m Tom Collins, your host of the Morning Farm Report here on KBGF Channel 5. Today's show has been pretty… unorthodox so far, I’m sure you would agree. My apologies to all the farmers. I have decided in these past few minutes that there won’t be any commodities reports this morning. We… probably someone else, will have all your livestock prices and farm news for you at the regular time, five AM tomorrow, Christmas eve and, of course, on Christmas day we’ll be running back-to-back reruns Perry Como Christmas Specials till noon. We start our broadcast day on Sunday with the Gospel Hour at nine.

“Today, in the spirit of the Christmas season, I want tell you a story and perhaps have you help me with a little something.

“Last night my fiancé gave me my ring back to me and said she was leaving for Las Vegas and that she didn’t want to see me anymore. Well folks, I’m not telling you this for pity, but that just about tore my poor heart out. Maybe that will help explain my state of mind why I spent all those minutes without saying anything. I confess that it did occur to me that a few more people might tune in to see what was going to happen next. I don't know if that's happened or not but I think we've all had enough silence.

“I’ve been sitting here thinking about all sorts of things. Verna leaving me, this job and how I dislike it. More than anything I've been thinking about someone I knew a long time ago

“When I was a kid I had a best friend. I have been trying to think of her name all morning with no luck. That would be a terrible thing, not to remember the name of one’s best friend, but she never used it, everyone just called her ‘Moon’, even her folks. I can’t remember why or where her nick name came from.

“Well, I’ve been talking for about long enough about now. We still have a television station to run so please enjoy these commercial messages.”

Outside, a sheriff’s car pulled up next to Sidney’s Chevy. Sidney and Al were walking around the building. Al was nursing his shoulder from trying to break down the back door.

“About time you showed up Henry, I called you guys from my house and I beat you here by five minutes” Sidney yelled. “Now bust down that door.”

“Morning Sidney, Al… I can’t bust down any doors, I don’t have a warrant or cause for that matter.”

“Cause? There’s a crazy man broadcasting communist propaganda from my television station! Probably giving away the locations of secret missile silos.”

“He’s sitting at a desk staring into the camera. I was watchin’ with the boys before I left. He’s even been playing commercials. He may not be doing a bang up job with the farm news but he ain’t’ breaking any laws.”

“Well, we’ve got stop’m somehow. I know! Al, go up and disconnect the antenna.”

“If I get within six inches of that cable I’ll RF burn like a church barbeque. Besides, those transmitters will burn up pretty fast if they loose the antenna load under full power.”

“So… let’s disconnect the power.” Sidney hollered. The wind blew the hat from his head. He made no effort to retrieve it.

“Unless you’re a bona fide employee of the East River Electric Cooperative and a certified lineman with a permit and work order,” Henry said pointing at the long line of utility poles going off into the horizon, “I'm afraid that would be illegal.”

“So how in the blue blazes am I supposed to stop that lunatic from ruining my beautiful television station?”

Inside, Tom could see the phone light flashing in the booth. It was the network red line. The commercials were still running.

Why not, he thought.

“KBGF Channel 5,” Tom chirped into the phone as if it were a sunny day in May and he didn’t have a million people hanging on his every word.

“Hi. yeah, this is Anthony Battaglia from CBS regional nework control in Chicago. What the hell is going on there? Our phones are ringing off the hook."

“Oh, just a temporary change in format for our local programming,” Tom said.

“No dirty words, religion or  politics?”

“No, no. You see, my fiancé…”

“Yeah, yeah great. Listen, whatever is going on we want to see it. Can you send us a feed?”

“I guess. How do I do that?”

“Where’s your engineer?”

“Not here. It’s just me.”

“Just you? Who is running the show? Directing, camera, switching, getting the damn coffee?”

“Me, just me.”

“So you’re the guy. THE guy?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Alright, umm… do you know where your network reverse feed amplifier is?”

“I think so. I don’t think it’s ever been used though.”

“Not surprising. There should be a patch panel right near it.”

“The thing with the holes and the short cables?”

“Exactly. Here’s what I’m going to have you do…”

“Becky! You’ve got to see this.” Fran grabbed her coworker’s hand and nearly yanked the girl out of her chair.

“What? I’m on a deadline.”

“C’mon, we’ve still got hours till air.”

“Oh for Pete’s sake.”

Becky stuck the pencil she had been editing her story with in her auburn hair. It was already beginning to fall down in little tufts. She followed her friend past a sea of desks to the end of the room. The two women stood at the back of a growing crowd of people staring at a bank of TV monitors. They all showed the same image.

“Fran, what is this?”

“This guy at a South Dakota affiliate’s gone crazy or something; on air!”

“South Dakota? Where?” Becky said showing her first interest.

“Some little place Aberdoon, Gabberdeen? Something like that.”

“Aberdeen,” Becky said with a frown.

Becky swallowed. She had not thought about that place in years. She didn’t want to start now.

“Fran, this is a just car salesman in a Santa suit…  A bad one. I gotta go.”

“It’s just the local commercial, just wait a minute.”

“No, sorry, I have a deadline.”

“Oh C’mon you can’t spare a couple minutes?” Vera shouted after her.

Becky ignored the chiding of her friend and pushed her way back through the crowd of people that had accumulated behind them in the short time they had been standing there. She returned to her desk. It seemed she was the only one. She heard the murmur of the crowd cease suddenly among a chorus of shushes. A man’s Voice came through the speakers. It was a pleasant sounding voice. She couldn’t make out the words. She continued writing her piece on a Christmas charity ball.

“Hi folks, I’m back.” Tom said after switching back from the commercials. “It seems there are a few more people joining us from out of state.

“If you're just joining us, I started telling a story about my childhood friend, Moon. She lived on a small farm about a mile from ours. As you know, in South Dakota that's right next door. Her father did work that had him away a lot of the time and her mother worked in town so we often had the place to ourselves. Moon had quite an imagination, even for a kid. The barn was pirate ships, flying saucers, castles and fortresses.”

Al came around the building to where the Sheriff's deputy and the station owner were conferring.

“I know we’re going to regret it, but this might work to disconnect the antenna,” Al said holding up a length of weathered rope that he found lying next to the building partly buried in the drifting snow.

The antenna conduit ran from the roof line of the studio building to the tower twelve feet off the ground. He tossed one end of the rope over it. Sidney attempted to catch it. The rope hit him in the face. He cursed.

“Ready?” Al shouted.

“I’m the boss. I’ll be the one to say ‘ready',” Sidney said.

“Okay fine… are you ready?”

“What?”

“Are you ready… to say ready?”

“I’m the one saying ‘ready’!”

“I know, I was saying… Oh never mind.”

“Ready?” Sidney shouted. “Go!”

Both men pulled on each of their end of the rope. The conduit began to bend downwards. Then suddenly the old rope snapped. Both men fell back onto the snow dusted ground on there asses at the same moment each with an “oof” like some perfectly choreographed farce.

Tom’s face had gone from the blank sad expression he’d had when staring into the camera to the bright eyes of a young boy on Christmas morning as he talked about Moon and their adventures.

“Moon was different from anyone I’ve ever met.” Tom told his audience. “I could tell her anything, act anyway I wanted. She wore jeans under her dresses and put daisies in her hair.

“One time, Moon and I found a bird one of our cats had injured. She treated it with such tender care, but when it was obvious we couldn’t help it and it was only suffering, she didn’t hesitate to swiftly put it out of its misery with a rock. And could she make me laugh? She was so smart, so funny. She’d make up jokes and funny stories.” Tom laughed. “Maybe she became an author?”

“I had a crush on Moon too. There was nothing else a boy could do. She was beautiful as a summer day. Her smile was all freckles and big brown eyes. It was as wide as the sky. I never told her how I felt. I was too scared.

“Then, one day when I was twelve and Moon was eleven, she disappeared. I went to her house to see her one day and her whole family was gone. No one could or would tell me where they went or why. To make matters worse I saw dried blood on the porch steps.

“The house was rented. There was no forwarding address. They left a lot of things behind, even furniture. I used to sneak into the house before they got rid of their possessions to look for clues. I took a tiny horse figurine Moon left behind. I still use it for my keys , see." Tom pulled his keys and key chain from his pocket to show the audience. A painted, but fading die cast horse dangled from the ring.

"I asked everyone I could think of, chased every clue I could find. I never found out anything and I never heard from her again.

“I became a news journalist mostly because I spent so much time investigating what happened to Moon. I just fell into it as a job eventually. I’m not very good at it though. That’s why I read commodities reports at five AM. There was the only story I was interested in getting: What happened to my Moon? I failed.

“I gave up trying to find Moon, years ago.” Tom's seemed to deflate and droop a little. Then he looked into the camera with a slight smile. “…until today.”

“I’ve got a broken heart and I hate my job enough not to care about getting fired but I’m not crazy. I miss my friend and I wish I knew what happened to her after all these years. I’m going to find out., and I’d like to ask your help…”

Becky looked up at the crowd gathered around the monitors on the news floor. She was curious about what was going on. She did have a deadline but that wasn’t the real reason she returned to and remained at her desk. She had lived in South Dakota for a few years, not far from Aberdeen but then… it was painful time she worked hard not to think about; the images of her father walking in the door, the blood dripping from his face.

After getting up himself and helping Sidney up off the ground. Al took the two pieces of rope and placed them together. When he tossed the ends over the antenna conduit there was only enough rope hanging straight down for him to grab either end by reaching up over his head. Al twisted the ends together and both he and Sidney held on.

“Henry, get over here and give us a hand.” Sidney yelled to the tall cop.

“I don’t think I should frankly. I don’t think you should either. What are you going to do when it’s over. How are you going to get back on the air?” Henry said.

“Oh fer Christ sake, get over here!”

Henry grabbed the rope higher up.

“Well, what’r we waitin for?” Sidney said.

“I was waiting for you to say ‘ready’,” said Al.

“Just pull!”

The three men outside the station lifted their legs suspending themselves from the rope like a large six legged piñata. The conduit bent lower and lower.

“Pull harder!” shouted Sidney.

“We’re off the ground. How’re we going to pull any harder?” said Henry, “and you’re elbow in is my ear!”

“That ain’t my elbow.”

“I'm sure glad no one is seeing this.” Al said.

The conduit creaked and groaned under the weight.

“There you have it.” Tom said. “There’s all the information I can think of that might help someone help me find my old friend. I’d like to know what happened and why she disappeared but really I just want to know that she’s okay; out there in the world and happy, with a family of her own most likely.”

 “Since I’m sure I won’t be here to take any calls, tomorrow, If you have any information that will help, I will be making myself available at…”

Snow.

Snow filled the broadcast check TV in the control out of Toms line of sight. Snow filled the TVs in the living rooms of Watertown, Aberdeen and several dozen other little towns. Even on the Standing Rock Indian Reservation, people were adjust their rabbit ears and smacking their TV sets. Snow filled TV screens in the farmhouses and the diners and the fronts of appliance shops.

Like what was blowing across the winter prairie, there was only snow.

Tom kept talking, unaware that the antenna cable and the three men that pulled it down were lying on the ground outside. He kept up his appeal talking about the diner he was planning to be at and when, if anyone could help him find Moon. He only stopped when he could smell the smoke from the transmitter room.

It was over.

On to Part III