Transcript
Jack Maddox (0:01)
Hey everyone, it's the Midnight Mystery here. Just popping in to check if you've ever thought. Wow. I love this show, but these ads are slowly destroying my will to live. Well, we have some good news. The Midnight Mystery has officially started a Patreon. By joining, you'll get early access to ad free episodes, exclusive miniseries and behind the scenes extras. Plus you'll be supporting independent creatives who pour everything they've got into making these stories. Every bit of support helps us keep the lights on, the mics recording and the weirdness flowing. The link to the Patreon is in the description below. So thank you so much for being here. We seriously couldn't do this without you. Let's get into the episode ACAST powers the World's best podcasts. Here's a show that we recommend.
Zibby Owens (1:03)
Hi, this is Zibby Owens, host of Totally Booked with Zibby, formerly Moms don't have Time to Read Books. In my daily show, I interview today's latest best selling, buzziest or underrated authors and story creators whose work I think is worth your time. As a bookstore owner, publisher, author and obviously podcaster, I get a comprehensive at everything that's coming out and spend my time curating the best books so you don't have to stay in the know. Get insider insights and connect with guests like Grammy Award winning singer Alicia Keys, critically acclaimed author Judy Blume, and Academy Award winning screenwriter John Irving every single day. With Totally Booked, you aren't just listening, you're part of the story. So don't miss out. Follow Totally Booked with Zibby on Apple Podcasts, Spotify or wherever you're listening now.
Jack Maddox (1:57)
Acast helps creators launch, grow and monetize their podcasts everywhere. Acast.com Bunker 8 is a horror and sci fi audio drama that explores disturbing themes and intense moments. Some content may be unsettling for certain listeners. Listener discretion is advised. The Midnight Mystery Presents Bunker 8 Season 3 Episode 6 Cold Signal it's been a few weeks since the motel. I've crossed a continent on foot, in trucks, hidden in the back of cargo vans. Anything to stay off grid. Stuck to side roads, avoided cameras. Never stayed in one place too long. Flying was never an option. No passport and even if I had one, security would have lit me up like a flare. And now I'm here. Somewhere cold, empty and I've been walking for hours. My visibility shot I I can barely see anything in front of me. The wind's getting worse for the last mile and my jacket soaked through. God damn it. I'm so sick of snow, I can't feel my hands. And every step feels like it's trying to bury me alive. If she's wrong about this, if. If the directions weren't right, if this place isn't real, I'm going to freeze to death out here. I've still got the same map I printed back at the motel. It's torn at the edges, half soaked, but I can still make out the route, barely. And my phone is useless. No signal out here. Not that it matters. Battery died days ago and haven't even looked at it since. I keep glancing over my shoulder, though. Paranoia's been riding me ever since I left the last town. Can't shake the feeling. Feeling that someone's one step behind me. The coordinates Violet gave me, they're barely readable now. The snow's bled through the paper, smeared half the ink. Well, not that it matters. I've memorized them. Burned them into my brain just in case I had to ditch the map. Let's see. It's minus 54.764467. Minus 69.3366550. Sector 9 Delta 3. While the coordinates on the map. I should be close. Wait. There. Just ahead, there's a structure half buried in snow. Steel frame, reinforced walls. No markings, no lights, no signs of life. It could be a weather station, or it could be some type of abandoned military facility. Or it could just be another trap. I slow my pace, Take it in from a distance. This is the kind of place they would use if they wanted to bury something or. Or someone off the books. No signals, no witnesses. Just cold silence and a body no one would ever come looking for. If they're waiting for me, I'm walking straight into it. I need to be careful. I stopped just short of the front entrance. Still door, no keypad, no handle. Just a solid sheet of metal set into the frame like it hasn't been touched in years. I check the snow around me. No footprints, no tire tracks. Nothing. I move a little to the side, watching the edges of the structure, looking for wires, small disturbances, anything that feels out of place. But there's nothing. Another place that's completely abandoned. Dust everywhere, torn wiring, broken terminals. Looks like it's been this way for years. Another facility left rot. Makes me wonder if the Company even still exists. Every lead I chase takes me somewhere long dead. But the way this place is built, it's the same layout as the monitoring stations back in Bunker eight. It's got the same server rack, same wall mounted relay terminals. This Isn't just some old building. I think. I think this is a relay station. There has to be a backup generator somewhere. I move deeper in, feeling my way past the racks and cables until I see a small generator tucked into the corner. The fuel gauge is low, but. But there's enough. Good. Okay. Good. Good. Now we have power. The lights flicker on overhead and. And there. On. On the back wall. Faded paint, barely visible through years of dust and grime, but I can still read it. Sector 9, Delta 3. There it is. Exactly what Violet said. Just below it, there's a small red light blinking. It's steady, like it's trying to get my attention to walk towards it. The room opens up around me. Rows of old computer terminals lining the walls. Most of them are dead. Wiring runs across the floor, tangled and frayed. Looks like some kind of relay or control center. Everything's dusty, half broken, but. But this was built for something important. What the hell? One of the terminals just started up. Lines of code start rolling by. It's.
