Dead Air

Hospital Radio Life was facing hard times. Advertising revenues were down and patients were migrating to streaming channels in like rats off a sinking ship.

It was the the perfect storm to kill off a local infirmary station like Life, which was completely reliant on community spirit to function.

Jess Greer the station manager was philosophical about it. Such was the way with small radio. Things rise and fall and technology waits for no man. She was bothered about her two volunteer staff though, the aging widower and ex-leather worker Rasmus and young intern Star. Both had been loyal and popular dj's on their four hour slots and since his third man Collier just disappeared they often did five hours and covered his important night time show about horror films and ghost stories. The restless patients adored it's grim content and Collier's dark nighttime wit as they dozed in God's waiting room.

It had been really difficult when Collier just vanished. No one at the station or in the hospital had a clue where he was and the police were baffled. He'd just gone and became yet another missing person in Royal Fothering hospital, the fifth in so many years.

Everyone had been interviewed at the infirmary and radio and it turned out Rasmus was the last member of staff to see Collier as he clocked on for his horror film spot known with a bit of hospital humour by the patients as the Graveyard Shift. The name had stuck.

Rasmus, in his late 70's and by far the oldest volunteer, was eliminated from police enquiries and that was that. Collier had arrived to do his slot, turned on his mic, announced the show and that was it. Nothing after that. No sign of him. Just dead air from Radio Life blowing over the wards.

The irony wasn't lost on Jess. She knew she had to cover the crucial Graveyard Shift somehow but after a year of overtime, herself and her two other staff were drained and the coffers almost empty.

Without Collier, his audience withered. The others just weren't horror buffs and it sadly ended. After a meeting with the main office hours were cut during the day too and the radio unit was moved to the old abandoned asylum building in the hospital grounds as the Director needed more space for his golf clubs.

Things looked bad at Life and a dark cloud descended over the beleaguered local enterprise, as it packed it's gear to take up residence in the neighboring empty nuthouse.

Jess was stoical and attempting to keep up her troops' morale. Star was her usual bubbly self, happy to be alive and keen to get back in the air. Rasmus on the other hand was nervous as hell about the move, as his wife had been a patient in the asylum before she died somewhat horribly in their care.

"It's a disgrace sticking us in that place! A scandal and a personal insult to me! We might as well call it Radio Straightjacket from now on! I've a good mind to just walk Jess, I mean it!"

Jess understood Rasmus's outrage completely. His wife had been let down by the six corrupt staff, when they supplied a new drug to the half-dozen residents whilst they slept bar Rasmus's wife, who had been walking in the grounds that night. On her return the intoxicated lunatics thought she was the devil and tore her limb from limb, played soccer with her head and threw her remains in the chapel font. That had been thirty years ago and the asylum was immediately closed. The staff got off on a technicality, did a bit of community service and scattered into the wind. 

Jess, with her most understanding manner, placated Rasmus  and after some further discussion and a tub of Quality Street she talked him into staying.

It was around this time that a sixth resident of Fothering vanished. Again there was no sign of hide nor hair of this latest one. The detective on the case was bewildered. Where had six local people got to for God's sake?

Patients at the hospital, like all the town's incumbents, were naturally uneasy about the disappearances. Nights became even more restless as they wrestled with both their ailments and the vanishings. 

So it was with uncannily good timing that one of the patients congratulated Jess in reinstating the Graveyard Shift the night just passed. She was visiting management in the main offices.

"It was fabulous Miss! We all loved it.  Just like old days with tales of mental institutions, maniacs and dismemberments! Where on earth did you find Collier again? Make sure you give him a big thumbs up from all of us on the wards. We can't wait for tonight's gory shift!"

Jess was totally perplexed. Collier was still missing and the station was down at night. She didn't have a clue what the old dear was on about.

Her curiosity piqued Jess decided to tune into their channel that night whilst lead in bed. The clock struck midnight and to her complete amazement the Graveyard Shift crackled into life. She'd recognize the intro anywhere, a sort of distorted Hammer Horror theme tune. 

When Collier's voice came in she shot up and listened intently, a feeling of growing unease coming over her.

"Well hello Graveyard Shifters, Collier your ghostly host here again after my sudden journey across the Styx. Well, I paid the Ferryman his royalties and here I am ready to tell you about the sins of our fathers and the terrible fate of innocent sons at the hands of a homicidal monster with a needle. Yes, I'll have you in stitches when I tell you about my fatal tryst with a murderer who lives to sever all relationships ... Literally! Ha ha! Yes, Graveyarders, I'm in pieces about how you had to suffer dead air this passed six months but after last night and tonight I've pulled myself together and Im holding my nerves. There's one hanging out right now, my optic nerve! Ha ha. Well, here's some gruelling tunes to help you stave off that Hadean slumber. From the the stiffs in the asylum's basement, farewell!"

Jess was stunned. No, she was frightened. It sounded like her old friend Collier but his voice was echoey, whispery, as though speaking through a fog. Unable to sleep she got dressed and drove to the radio station. 

There was no-one there. No Collier. Nobody. It was silent, unchanged save for a slight whiff of sulphur in the mic booth.