I’ve been trying to stay on the move for the last few days since I first opened up about these events. It’s hard to stay one step ahead of a shadowy federal agency bent on keeping all of their secrets hidden, but it helps when you used to be the person responsible for hiding those secrets. I can keep myself off their radar a little bit better than most.
Today I wanted to share another article from the same event I mentioned last time. Some of the events I was apart of flew under the radar for good reasons. Maybe just one or two people were involved, it was easy to hide. Perhaps the event really did cause a natural disaster that covered our tracks. This one…this one I still don’t know how they got away with it. And I won’t let them any longer.
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BEGIN TRANSCRIPT
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Official [REDACTED] Document
Event: 1701-C
Article: 453-DT
Date: [REDACTED]
Location: [REDACTED]
The news keeps talking about a devastating wildfire back home, but it’s not true. None of it is true.
Okay, so the fire is true, my home is burning, but not for the reasons they keep saying. Somebody started this fire to hide something awful. I don’t know if you’ll believe me. You have no reason to believe me. But I’m going to tell you what happened as best I can.
I started a new job as a 911 dispatcher a month or so ago. I was still fresh-eyed and naïve about the nature of answering emergency calls. When I took the job, I thought I would be helping people and saving lives. Turns out most of the people who call 911 are either angry for no good reason or lonely old people who just make stuff up to talk to someone. Or they’re crazy. We had a few of those, too.
Sure, sometimes you get a real emergency that requires a swift police or ambulance response, but most of the time it’s all just nonsense. Especially working the night shift like I did.
After a week of training, I was supposed to complete my preliminary certification. This wasn’t the real certification that said I could help people adequately. This was just the one that said I could be in a 911 center without being a safety hazard to an emergency caller. Of course, my county was pretty lax with stuff like that. They had me taking calls almost immediately. So that was fun.
“[REDACTED] County, what’s your emergency?” I said to the first caller of the night.
“Uh, yeah, I’ve got a wounded bird on my back porch,” the confused man replied. “It looks like a red-tailed hawk with a hurt leg. Should I call someone about that?”
What I wanted to say was, “You should call someone other than me, that’s for dang sure.”
But, no. I decided to be helpful and gave him the number for the state Department of Natural Resources. I’ll let them be the ones to tell him politely to screw off, I thought.
My next call was even more absurd, if you can believe it.
“Hi, yes, uh…I just got a call from my wife and she says there’s a person in the woods behind our house,” the flustered man uttered out, choosing his words very carefully.
I quickly bolted up in my seat and stared at my computer screen even more intently. Nothing about the screen changed, mind you, but this felt like the only appropriate response for what might be a legitimate emergency.
“Yes, sir. And what’s the description of the individual?” I asked.
“Uh…she says it’s pretty dark, and she can’t really see it…him,” the man stuttered. I slowly started to realize that I was much more concerned about this man’s wife’s situation than he was.
“Yes, sir. Does it look like he’s approaching the house?”
“Well…uh…it’s not exactly a person. It’s more like an animal, maybe, she says,” he added, slightly changing course.
At this point I wasn’t really sure where to go with him, but I wanted to help somehow. And I legally wasn’t allowed to just hang up on him, so…
“So it’s an animal? Does your wife think it’s a bear?”
“Well…she says it’s like an animal…person?”
Bigfoot. The man called me about Bigfoot being in his back yard.
But this man was bound and determined to say anything but the obvious: “My wife thinks she sees Bigfoot.”
“Okay, sir. Can I get an address from you?”
He gave me his home address and my heart sank. He was a couple miles over the line into the next county.
“Yes, sir. So I apologize for this, but you’ve actually reached [REDACTED] County 911. I’m going to have to transfer you to [REDACTED] County.”
After I transferred the poor beleaguered gentleman to make him someone else’s problem, I couldn’t hold back the laughter.
“What’s so funny over there?” my supervisor, [REDACTED], asked.
“I just had to transfer a Bigfoot call,” I exclaimed, still laughing.
The three of us collectively roared at the absurdity of this guy’s issue, loving the fact that his wife made him call 911 about a Bigfoot sighting that he wasn’t even really part of. Looking back, maybe he had a point. Because the night was only getting started.
“It’s gonna be one of those nights,” my other colleague sighed. She was nice. About my age, long dark hair, had two kids at home that she was trying to raise alone on the days when she wasn’t sleeping off a traumatic 911 night shift.
It had been a short time with the three of us working together, but we got along. My supervisor was pretty chill, he let us watch movies during the dead time at night, and my colleague would occasionally lay her head back and rest. It was frowned upon to sleep in the call center, but what else are you supposed to do when there’s literally nothing happening?
For the first few hours, we dealt with the usual nuttiness of a 911 call center. We did traffic stops, we sent a couple ambulances out to check on people, we watched Jeopardy! on TV. Same, same.
I remember that it was pretty calm for a Friday night. The high school was hosting a pretty low stakes football game, since both teams were already out of contention for the playoffs. Weather was nice, so driving must’ve been pretty safe out. I guess most people just stayed put and enjoyed the evening while we settled in for a weekend of tedium.
Until the first call came in just around 8:45pm.
I raced to answer the phone, but I was beaten for once.
“You’ve reached [REDACTED] County 911. How can I assist you?” she said.
I watched her expression. She’d been in the business a little longer than I had, so nothing really shook her, but I noticed my colleague’s eyes getting wider with each word the caller vomited out there.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. I need you to calm down, I can’t understand you,” she urged, seemingly to no avail. “Miss [REDACTED], I really can’t understand you, you’re not making any sense. What did you say you saw?”
There were a few more loud shrieks that even I could hear two work stations away, and then the line went dead.
“What was it?” my supervisor asked.
“I don’t know. It sounded like somebody was keying a car in the background and she just kept screaming something about a black face with no eyes,” she explained.
“Did you get her location?” the supervisor questioned her urgently, his own concern growing quickly.
“She didn’t tell me where she was, but I know this lady. And her phone is pinging at her house,” she answered.
“Alright. Hey, rookie!” he shouted. “You’re on police. Get someone rolling. Tell them it’s a possible 10-16.”
“She’s divorced, though,” my colleague spat out. “And her ex lives three states away.”
“Doesn’t matter. We’ve got nothing else to go on,” he reiterated.
I nodded my head and turned towards the microphone.
“County to 7612.”
“7612 here,” he responded.
“7612, please be en route to [REDACTED] for a possible 10-16. Caller described a possible black male, or a male with a black face covering,” I described, rather incredulously.
“County…you’re saying I’m looking for either a black guy or a guy in a black mask?” 7612 responded…annoyed.
“That’s 10-4,” I sighed.
“10-4,” he echoed.
Once the first call came in, though, we were slammed. Within minutes, every phone we had was ringing with similar descriptions. And in each one, the line went dead before we could get anything useful out of them.
We were all jumping on radios and jumping off the phones. I had multiple police units scrambling to any one of 15 houses where an attack had been reported, and we had ambulances going to the first ones we could get them to.
Without hesitation, my supervisor called our boss, the station director.
“Hey, Boss. We need help in here. Everything is going nuts, man,” he reiterated. “Okay. Okay. They called you when? And who is this, again?”
When my supervisor got off the phone, he looked pissed. Like…really pissed.
“Listen, Rookie. I need you to go to the back and stay put,” he ordered.
Both my colleague and I resisted his order strongly.
“Are you kidding me? I can’t stay off the phone more than two seconds, and now you’re putting him in another room?”
“Boss’ orders. We’ve got some federal group coming in. Said there’s an ecological disaster in the area and we can’t have him on radio. He’s not certified. If Feds come in here and catch us with an uncertified dispatcher in the middle of a crisis, we’re smoked,” my supervisor explained. “It sucks. You’re right. But we’ve got to get him out of this room.”
Begrudgingly, I gathered up my stuff and left. I sat in our server room in the back where I could hear the phones ringing off the hook, but I was powerless to help. As much as I hated it, I jumped on my phone and started texting my family. I was asking them if they’d seen anything or heard any strange noises outside. My family said they hadn’t heard anything, but that some of their friends had reached out to them, too.
We were talking back and forth when suddenly I realized that the phones outside weren’t ringing anymore. And then I realized that my next messages wouldn’t go out. And I stopped receiving messages.
I thought it was strange, but I also chalked it up to a coincidence. I know, now, that it was all quite intentional.
The back doors of the facility opened up where I could hear them, and then I heard a few voices in conversation. The chief voice I heard was the loud, subtly country voice of my station director explaining how our building worked. He’d been a deputy for 20 years and still talked like it. The other voice, which only occasionally piped in with a distinctly disinterested tone, I had never heard before.
“Howdy, howdy,” the Boss said as he walked into the call room. “This here is Director [REDACTED] of the…uh…federal agency I told you about.”
My coworkers gave their quaint, courteous hellos. He responded in kind.
“Didn’t you tell me the phones were ringing off the hook?” Boss asked.
“Yeah, they were, but then they just stopped a few minutes ago. No phones, no radio traffic, it’s weird,” my supervisor said.
“In ecological disasters like this, it’s normal for communications disruptions to occur,” the Federal Man noted. “I’m sure normal communications will be restored shortly. Meanwhile, how can I help? I see you only have two people here, three counting yourself.”
“Yes, sir. Just the three of us in here, plus you. Nobody else working tonight. We can usually get by with just two,” my Boss lied. “Especially on a slow Friday night.”
“That’s good to hear,” the Federal Man said. “Good to hear. We have some more personnel out in the van who can come in and help man the phones if you need.”
“Once the lines come back, I’m sure we could use them,” my Boss said.
By this time, I’d slid around to the security camera monitors so I could watch the action unfolding therein. There was my Boss, his usual buzz cut and stout stature casting a presence in the room. The Federal Man was obviously smaller in appearance, yet there was nothing of the coward to him. He stood tall and straight in his black suit, an obscure badge hanging down on a metal chain around his neck.
“Where are we at on these dispatches?” my Boss asked, walking over to my supervisor.
Once he turned his back, though, the Federal Man reached around and pulled something out from under his impressive suit jacket. Before I could react appropriately, he had shot my three friends in the head. It was over before it began, and I doubt any of them recognized their death before it came.
As for me, I threw my hands to my mouth to keep from screaming. The shock of the moment nearly made me forget my intended anonymity. More importantly, I realized now that remaining invisible was my only chance at survival.
“Come on in,” the Federal Man spoke into his radio. Moments later, at least 10 armed gunmen, who can only best be described as hidden figures in Kevlar and meshed black canvas, filed through the back doors. As each one circled around the Federal Man, he started barking commands for where each one should go. Half were sent to guard the perimeter and check for threats. The other half were told to commandeer our forsaken work stations and scan the calls for information.
“I might have one here, boss. Guy says he saw a furry…animal person? It’s the next county over, but it’s a possible lead,” one man at my station said.
“I’m not concerned with drunk rednecks seeing Bigfoot,” the Federal Man bit back.
“Geez, boss. There’s blood all over my station. Did you really have to shoot these people in the head?” another questioned, drawing the Federal Man’s ire.
“Do you have any idea what’s going on here? We’re talking about gaunts! These things are like a virus. If we leave even one witness alive, if we let even one description slip out there, they will infect the world. And how many people will we have to shoot in the head then? Huh? Would you like to volunteer?” the federal man asked, pointing his pistol directly at the questioning agent.
The uncertain soldier shook with fear, slowly turning around and getting back to work. They quickly compiled the names and phone numbers of every caller we received before their arrival and then stood to go.
“Since you’re so concerned with security, how about you go check the server rooms,” the Federal Man ordered, looking at the questioning agent. “Make sure every machine in there gets destroyed.”
This time, that fellow took no time jumping to his feet and rushing towards the back. It was only then that I realized he was rushing straight towards me.
I flew towards the little closet we used for hiding snacks and tried to curl up inside it as fast as I could. I gently tugged the door to and nudged some Famous Amos aside just as the door to the server room opened up. Immediately and without prejudice, I heard the tell-tale boom of assault rifle rounds piercing the servers. There were no dramatic sparks or lights flickering like you see in movies. Just the instant erasure of thousands of emergencies and untold hours of audio recordings of people’s worst days. All gone. Just like them, I imagine.
“Everything good in there?” the Federal Man shouted in a break between rifle blasts.
“Yeah, we’re good. Just got a few nooks and crannies to check on,” the soldier replied, his footsteps coming towards my cabinet.
My heart raced. The sound of each rifle shot had nearly deafened me, but I could still hear each beat of my heart, loud and fast like someone abusing a bass drum. I could almost feel the weight of the floor shifting as he approached my cabinet. I saw the door budge slightly as he put his hand on it. Then, in a blinding flash of light, the door flew open.
Every instinct in my body surged at once. Like a coward begging for his life, I threw my arms up to cover my face, rustling a few packets of cookies out of the cabinet. The soldier had his gun at the ready, but upon seeing me he reeled back. I couldn’t see his eyes for the abyssal black on his goggles, but I could see my own horrified, pleading expression in the mirror-like reflection. Even though I could see just the slightest hint of his dark skin peeking through, I seemed to recognize the look on his face: It was pity.
He raised his rifle to my chest, preparing to do his job without emotion or passion, only to lower it again.
“Hey, boss!” he shouted. “Guess what I found!”
“What?” the Federal Man hollered back.
The soldier put his hand out towards me as if to snatch me up by the neck, only to divert his grasp towards the well-known brown pouch beside me.
“Snacks! These folks have cookies!” he yelled, giving me a look that I knew meant to stay put and stay silent.
“Idiot,” his boss reprimanded. “Get out here right now, and don’t you dare bring any of those cookies with you.”
The soldier pocketed a bag of cookies in one of his million various pouches and put a finger to where his mouth should be, the gesture obvious. I imagined a wink behind the goggles as he turned to go.
“Let’s roll, fellows. Time to torch this town and move on,” he instructed. “The gas cloud is still holding about three miles north of here, so keep your masks handy just in case. Our latest intel says the swarm is in that same area, so you’re on southern perimeter.”
I gave the soldiers a nice 15 minute barrier after they left, and then I escaped from the server room and snatched up my laptop bag. Within 10 minutes, I had slipped through the woods past the perimeter. I looked through the trees and realized that they had a post on every road and pig trail, but the main woods were left alone.
By the next night, I’d hitched a ride to [REDACTED] a good 300 miles away and scraped together some cash for a hotel room. That was when I started seeing the news reports about the localized wildfire. My home was burning. And I know who did it.
I have to keep running. If they read this message and figure out that I escaped, I’m done for. And the soldier who helped me, too. What am I doing? That man saved my life and I just condemned him. But I have to tell the truth. The world needs to see this message. Even if I die.
But I also have to confess something. When I ran through the woods, there was something there with me. I never saw it, but there was a figure. The presence was undeniable. And I think it’s been in my nightmares. This creature. It’s tall and black, skin like leather, and I’ve seen the face. There are no eyes. The old woman was right. And yet…the mouth. It has the most horrible mouth. I don’t know. I never saw it in the woods that night, but now I can’t stop seeing it. Every time I close my eyes, that creature is there.
I wonder if I made the wrong choice surviving.