Surface Noise

Dan opened the front door after seeing the Here text from Lewis and stepped out onto the walkway, meeting the half-jogging Lewis.

Returning the wave and smile from Maddy, who sat in the still-running car, he gave a quick upward nod to Lewis, who returned it.

“‘Sup?”

“Just swinging by to give you this,” Lewis said, handing an album jacket to Dan. “Maddy and I picked it up at some yard sale. Thought you’d like it.”

“Yeah, man,” Dan said, flipping the album over, brow furrowing at the lack of any identification. “How’s her mom?”

“About as good as anyone can be, given the circumstances,” Lewis answered. “On our way to meet her for lunch, which is why we gotta run.”

“Yeah, man.”

“Let me know how that is,” Lewis called as he jogged backward toward the car.

“Will do. Thanks, man.” Dan gestured with the album and waved again as the couple backed out of the driveway and headed on. 

“Huh,” Dan muttered as he walked back inside, inspecting the album jacket again for any clues as to what band might have made it.

As he angled the cover, hoping to discover some hidden writing, he wondered at the iridescence of the square in his hands. The shifting colors refused to settle into anything he could name. He stood transfixed, tilting and turning the jacket at every possible angle.

Finally, he shook his head as if waking from a reverie, approached his record player, and gently pulled the inner sleeve and record from the jacket, setting the cover beside the player.

He scrunched his nose as he rubbed his thumb along the sleeve.

It was as thin as any other protective sleeve, but his careful fingers confirmed it felt more like leather than paper.

Slightly unsettled, he slid the record out, placed the sleeve atop the cover, and inspected the labelless black vinyl circle in his hands.

Like he had done with the cover, Dan spun and angled the record, eyeing the grooves and noting the lack of distinguishable tracks, before placing it onto the turntable.

He powered on the sound system, adjusted the volume to just above his usual setting, and lifted the tonearm.

“Hope that’s side A,” he muttered, lowering the needle onto the spinning disc.

Surface noise rose through the speakers. Familiar pops and clicks within the crackle and hiss followed by nothing but more of the same.

Dan watched the record spin until the needle reached the end, then restarted the seemingly blank album, cranking up the volume as high as it would go.

He played it again, tried the other side, then both sides at every possible RPM, each time with the same result.

He flipped and replayed the record again and again as some compulsive itch told his brain something was there.

He began to hear it.

A voice whispered a series of numbers within the surface noise.

Then, as if it had always been there, the voice spoke between the numbers.

Dan.

Seek.

Find.

Lewis knocked loudly, his car the only one in the otherwise empty driveway. After a moment, he tried the handle and found the door unlocked. 

I had been three days of unanswered texts, and calls from him and Maddy now going straight to voicemail.

Dan’s house was quiet, looking and smelling the same as always.

Lewis sighed in mild relief.

“Yo! Dan!” Lewis shouted, though he stepped through the house with the measured caution of a cat burglar.

In Dan’s music room, he saw the colorless album cover propped up next to the record player, the sleeve lying next to it, and the record sitting still on the turntable.

“Ew.” Lewis recoiled after touching the sleeve, rubbing his hand against his pant leg to try and rid himself of the sensation that he had just touched some strange leather.

Still grimacing, he noticed the open notebook on the other side of the record player.

Flipping through it, he read the repeated numbers and words that Dan had heavily scrawled across the lined pages.

I shall seek.

I am known.

I will find,

They

       I

           We are the chorus.

Seek.

    Find.

Seek.

         Find.

Triumphant.

“What the hell…” Lewis muttered, pulling out his phone to search the numbers. A location popped up. Three hours away and in the middle of nowhere.

He called Maddy as he hurried to his car, updating her and agreeing on what to do if he wasn’t back by nightfall, then began his pursuit.

Lewis pulled onto the shoulder and switched off his car.

He hadn’t seen another vehicle in over an hour, and the only one he did see was abandoned several hundred yards off the road.

Hope and dread battled as he hurried toward it. The driver’s side door hung open. 

It was Dan’s.

Continuing in the direction the vehicle faced, he pushed on for another mile or so until he finally saw a figure standing with his back turned.

Dan stood at a precipice, peering down at something Lewis could not yet see.

“Dan!” Lewis called out, rushing toward his friend.

Dan slowly turned, his face calm and indifferent, his eyes staring blankly with concentrically ringed pupils.

Without changing his expression, Dan stepped backward and fell from view.

“No!” Lewis sprinted, skidding to a halt at the edge.

Thousands of feet below, a miles-wide circular spread of iridescent sand of unnamable colors lay at the bottom of a canyon. 

The specter of his friend entered the lead-in groove and into the dune-like V-shaped walls that spiraled inward. 

A horrid cacophony of surface noise, like the throaty gurgle of some abhorrent beast, assailed Lewis.

Lewis.

Seek.

Find.

Lewis shut his eyes tightly and clamped his hands over his ears.

Lewis.

Seek.

Find.

Lewis shouted in angry, horrified defiance against the call.

A terrible scream from myriad voices screeched like a needle dragging across a record.

The noise ceased.

Lewis opened his eyes, falling to despondent knees as he looked out over the flat, deserted emptiness that stretched on for miles.