The Final Warning

Marcus. Marcus, wake up. The words echoed through his head as he grabbed his pillow to hide his face. It wasn't time yet. It couldn't be. The slight opening in the blinds told him it was still dark out. Then, it came: the shock to the system that hits when a loud, obnoxious alarm sounds.

Mariann Wagnall rushed out of the room, leaving Marcus to moan and groan. As he lay there, quietly miserable, his night plan for a good night's sleep had fallen apart. Marcus spent too much time studying for a promotional exam at work and had only crawled into bed a few hours earlier.

Still, it was dark out, and his alarm was telling him it was time to wake up. He pushed the blinds down to look out the window next to their bed. The clock flashed 6:30 at him repeatedly. Why was it so dark out?

"Honey, is it storming?"

Mariann laughed. The near-constant cloud of darkness that blocked the sun came from a round of storms that seemed to have no end. Asking if it were storming was like asking if she wanted strawberry or grape jelly on peanut butter. Since Marcus was struggling to wake up, she threw a pillow at his head.

Marcus sat up, thinking he had a very long day ahead. He stumbled into their bathroom and slipped his pajama bottoms down. A shower would wake him up. As he turned on the water, still not awake enough to think straight, the freezing chill jump-started his senses. He let out a scream that caused his wife to laugh.

An hour later, he was walking into the East Texas Observatory. Marcus had a simple enough job. He was in charge of Listening Post Four from eight in the morning to eight at night. The sixteen-disc array belonged to SpaceX and was part of their search for extraterrestrial life.

Marcus was a supervising technician, spending part of his time listening and part of his time working on the array. He was great with his hands, had a knack for getting things repaired, and was studying astronomy. Most people questioned how he got the job, since he was still a master's student. The truth was, nobody else wanted it.

Marcus had the security clearance from his time in the military. Nobody else in the observatory wanted the job, the extra responsibilities, or the hours. He was a no-brainer to the observatory director.

The office Marcus was given was ceremonial. Other than the director, the two shift supervisors had access to an office. There wasn't much of a hierarchy at the Observatory. The director, who was also an astronomer, two leads, and the technicians were all they had.

Every day, Marcus would drop his bag in the office, prop open the door, and take a spot at one of the receivers. He'd put on a pair of headphones, tune into the quadrants he monitored, and play something on his laptop. Even the two other techs did something to keep from falling asleep. The job was tedious, boring, and outright slow.

"Mr. Marcus," said Janice, another tech.

"Janice, how was your evening?"

"I caught a movie with my sister. Then we went for burgers," she said.

Marcus and Mariann were more solitary. They grilled burgers, sat and watched the sunset, and hung out on their patio until Marcus went to study. He described their nice, quiet night.

The first six hours of the day, Marcus spent his time focusing on the Mutaro Nebula. There had been hundreds of free radio bursts over the previous six months, and they were studying the source. After the first six hours, the staff at the observatory thinned out. As Marcus waved goodbye to half those who were working when he started, he found himself alone on his side of the observatory.

Marcus went around the room and set the monitors up so he could listen to both the nebula and long-range receivers targeting the Voyager I and Voyager II paths. There were also more localized studies being conducted, which the observatory had two satellites monitoring and relaying data from. Marcus's focus was on deep space, an interest he developed as a child.

Once Marcus was alone, he spent hours studying, doing research for his thesis, and trying to stay focused. It wasn't always the easiest thing in the world. Being out in the middle of nowhere, with more hours in solitude than around humans, it was easy to lose focus, to get distracted, and to fall asleep. He had caught several technicians sleeping on the job. Now that he had been doing it for a couple of years, Marcus understood how it happened.

Sitting in a chair, trying to dial into the exact area an FRB was detected, his eyes were heavy. It was a sign he needed to hit the refrigerator.

The office had a full-sized refrigerator for people to use. There was a shelf kept full of energy drinks, mostly Monsters and C4s. He grabbed one of the orange cans, popped the top open, and slammed half the can before closing the door. Across from the supervisory desk, the observatory had a supply of snacks. He grabbed a couple of protein bars and headed back to the tech floor.

The monitors were all quiet. He needed a break. So, Marcus grabbed a putter and a bag of golf balls. There was a small putting green set up on the tech floor. It was there to give the techs a distraction on slow nights, much like this particular night.

As Marcus lined up his fourth shot, something grabbed his attention. He looked around the room. Marcus wiped his eyes, imagining that he had to be hallucinating. He hadn't been sleeping well, but there was no way he heard what he thought he heard. He was alone.

"Mayday, mayday, mayday."

He knew he heard it. But from where? It was coming over an old RF monitoring system. As he took his seat, he heard the voice again.

"Mayday, mayday, mayday," the voice said.

Marcus tuned the monitor and focused in on the signal. It wasn't possible. Had they inadvertently picked up an ocean-born mayday, he wouldn't have been shocked. But the direction the signal was coming from was space. He started to adjust the monitors, trying to pinpoint the origin and distance.

"This is William Brand of the Apollo 19. I'm the last...I think," the message continued through the static.

It's not possible. This has got to be a joke, Marcus thought to himself. Marcus punched the Apollo missions into his cellphone. There wasn't an Apollo 19 mission. The Apollo missions ended with the Apollo 17 crew mission.

"Alright, very funny," he yelled out, expecting one of his colleagues to burst into hysterical laughter.

"I repeat," the speaker said, "I'm Captain William Brand, and I was a member of the Apollo program, mission 19. I'm alive, and have been here for..."

Marcus checked all the equipment. There wasn't a tie-in anywhere he could find. He went outside and checked the parking lot. The area was nearly empty, just his and Taki's cars in the lot.

"Taki, you son of a bitch. You do have a sense of humor," laughed Marcus.

Going back inside, Marcus went to the second station lab and knocked on the window. David Takimoto was studying tachyon emissions being picked up by Voyager I. He'd been analyzing data and working on a paper to submit to NASA early next year. It wasn't like Taki to play jokes on people, but Marcus was going to call him out for this one.

The door to the lab opened, and Taki stuck his head out. Marcus crossed his arms, looking at him with a slight grin.

"Marcus. What's up?"

"Oh, I think you and I have a lot to talk about. Like the tie-in to the old RF systems."

Taki was confused and asked, "What tie-in?"

In that moment, Marcus didn't think it was Taki. He could tell Taki was confused by the idea. He apologized for the interruption and told Taki somebody had played a prank, spooking Marcus for kicks. He described the weird message.

"Apollo 19? But, the Apollo missions ended in 1972, with Apollo 17," said Taki. "What's it saying?"

Marcus invited Taki out to the tech floor. The two made their way to Marcus's station, and Marcus replayed the messages. The two scientists had the same look on their faces. Marcus hit play, and they listened to more of the message recorded by the system.

"This is Captain William Brand. Commander of the Apollo 19. I don't know how long I've been gone, or how long this message will take to get to Earth."

"See what I mean?"

Taki was punching in on the message. He had it narrowed down to 238,900 miles from the origin. He scratched his head as he looked at the screen in front of him.

"Taki, what is it?"

"My friend," he replied, pointing at the main monitor, "its coming from the moon."

"That's impossible," said Marcus.

"Normally, I'd agree with you. Considerring..."

The screams that filled the room were loud enough to cause their heads to hurt. Both young scientists held their hands over their ears. An intense electrical feedback from the signal fried a receiver.

"Jesus," sighed Marcus, as the noise ended. "What the hell was that?"

"A high energy burst of some sort, also, eminating from Earth's moon," explained Taki. "We need to call someone."

The two sat for an hour while they awaited Carl Moxley. Carl was the director of the observatory, and when they described the message, he told them to monitor it closely, and he would be there soon. He also told them to keep the message to themselves until he was there. When he finally arrived, the two young scientists stood and offered him a chair.

"This is Captain William Brand. If my message is getting through to Houston, to Mission Control, or anyone on Earth, I'm alive. I don't know how long I've been up here. I've been trying to call for help for...as long as I can remember. If you're getting this," the message went static, and the two looked at their director.

"And the original message, he reported being the commander of what mission?"

"Apollo 19."

"That's not possible."

"We didn't think so. The Apollo missions ended with Apollo 17," explained Taki.

Carl sat as he listened to the message from the beginning. He didn't respond to either of them. As he listened, he sent several text messages. When the recordings had finished, he set his phone down on the table. There was no way they should be getting a signal from Captain William Brand.

"What do you make of it, sir?"

Carl put his finger to his lips and motioned for them to be silent. He tapped on his cellphone and motioned for them to leave theirs. When Taki and Marcus put their phones on the table, Carl told them to follow him. They all went to the director's office.

Once inside Carl's office, he told them to stay quiet as he took out a small electronic device. Taki recognized the tech. Carl was sweeping his office for listening devices. Both Taki and Marcus looked at each other. Seeing a small observatory director sweep an office for listening devices was weirder than the message.

"Sorry, boys, but you can't be too careful. When I said that it was impossible, I meant that there was no way William Brand could be alive," explained Carl. "William Brand was the last commander of the Apollo program. And that was for a mission that was over forty years ago, a mission that went terribly wrong."

"Wait, there was another Apollo after 17?"

"There were two. Apollo 18 was done in secret. The Apollo 17 crew found something up there, something that's been classified for over fifty years. The next mission was to explore what was seen by Apollo 17, and Apollo 18 went missing. They sent Apollo 19 to find out what happened to the astronauts and try to find answers to what was going on in the Apollo Crater. When Captain Brand's entire crew disappeared, we finally stopped going to the moon," explained Carl.

"This is Captain William Brand, last surviving member of Apollo 19. If you're reading this, under no circumstances should you land on Earth's moon. Be prepared, because these things are..." His words faded as a guttural scream filled the technician lab.

Marcus turned toward the lab, and Taki went to follow. Carl's phone chimed. He was receiving a text message. The message gave him instructions on how to proceed. When they all got back to the lab, Carl picked up his phone and read the message.

Taki tried to get the message back. Marcus tried to respond now that they knew it was real. As the two worked, Carl put his phone in his pants pocket and reached into his jacket. He wore a solemn look.

"Sorry, boys. You didn't have the clearance," Carl sighed as he squeezed off two rounds into each of their heads.