Crackling Bacon

Please Note: This story contains light-hearted profanity and disparaging remarks.

Also Note: The sound of radio static is represented by the term “<crackling bacon>” in the content of the story.

“Ho…<crackling bacon>…ave…<crackling bacon>…roble…<crackling bacon>,” came a voice across the two-way radio.

“Please repeat your transmission,” returned another voice.

“<crackling bacon><crackling bacon>…hear…<crackling bacon>…me?”

“There’s a lot of static. We’re not able to decipher.”

“Dit…<crackling bacon><crackling bacon>…ight.”

“Holy shit, dit is a dot in morse code,” replied a voice from behind Houston. “They want to communicate with a light.”

Houston replied, “Get your effin’ binoculars and look around for a light. Who can decipher morse code? Anyone?”

“I can.”

“Who are you?”

“I’m David Boston but everyone calls me Screech.”

“Perfect…get your binoculars, Screech. When you get a bead on the light let me know.”

“Roger.”

“I’m Houston, he’s Roger,” Houston pointed to the guy who realized it was morse code.

“Right, it’s Roger Charlotte, right?” replied Screech.

“Right, call me Charlotte. I’m also quite skilled in morse code,” Charlotte affirmed.

Houston interrupted, “I don’t mean to interrupt gentlemen, but can we get to the task at hand? Look for a light, would ya?”

“We’re searching for a light. Flash your light slowly and repeatedly while we locate you,” Houston spoke into the two-way radio.

“Ten…<crackling bacon><crackling bacon>…ashing now,” returned the voice.

“You two looking for the light?”

Screech and Charlotte both belted out, “Sir, yes sir.”

“Let me know when you locate it.”

“Got it, sir,” Screech blurted out.

“We’ve located you, begin signaling,” Houston spoke into the two-way radio.

Screech began speaking what he saw, “Di di di dit … dah dah dah … di di dah … di di dit … dah … dah dah dah … dah dit ……. di dah dah … dit ……. di di di dit … di dah … di di di dah … dit ……. di dah ……. di dah dah dit … di dah dit … dah dah dah … dah di di dit … di dah di dit … dit … dah dah.”

Houston shouted, “This is messed up. I can’t listen to this. What does it say?”

“It translates to, Houston we have a problem,” replied Screech.

“Well, that’s great…this is going to take forever. Let me reply. “Identify yourself and what’s the problem?”

Screech offered, “We need to keep our questions short.”

Charlotte began translating, “Dah di dit … di dah … di dah di dit … di dah di dit … di dah … di di dit.”

“Dallas, it’s Dallas,” Screech shouted. “I wonder what their problem is?”

“How far away you think they are?” Houston asked.

Charlotte responded, “I’d guess two miles.”

“That’s it, two miles?”

“Yes, two miles.”

“Describe your problem in one word,” Houston spoke into the two-way radio.

“Dah dah dit … di dah … di di dit,” Screech translated. “Gas, oh my god, they’re out of gas.”

“What?” Houston responded. “They can’t be out of gas. They’re only two miles away. Is it possible they’re out of gas? My brother’s an idiot.”

Screech questioned, “Wait, Dallas is your brother? Let me guess, you also have a brother named Austin.”

“I do, yes,” Houston smiled.

“You’re kidding?”

“Nope.”

Houston ordered, “Let’s saddle up boys. We’ve some gas to deliver. Raleigh, you stay here and hold down the fort till we return.”

“Sit tight, Dallas, we’re coming with gas,” Houston spoke into the two-way radio.

With that, Screech and Charlotte exited the fort and filled two five-gallon cans with gas and secured one to each of two four-wheelers. All the while, Houston was gathering routine emergency supplies that included water, beef jerky, and extra ammunition. It was mid-summer so there was no need for winter supplies.

 The three put on their helmets and gloves and started their four-wheelers. They knew where Dallas and his cohorts were located so there was no question where they were going although, there was no direct path.

Charlotte was overly confident where to go and he tore out the dirt path and headed toward the creek. Screech and Houston followed. Screech was much younger than Houston and lacked some brains regarding safety and spun out well before reaching the creek requiring Houston to double-back and check on him. It was all good.

Charlotte sat waiting at the edge of the creek. As the other two arrived, they contemplated where to cross. The creek was a little higher than usual due to the recent rains but not enough to discourage them, so they headed off through the creek. Slow and steady, slow, and steady.

They reached the other side unscathed, except that Screech had lost his gas can. It had come loose and had fallen in the creek – and disappeared. No harm, they still had one five-gallon can remaining.

They had travelled about one mile and had roughly one more mile to go but it was heavily wooded, which slowed their progress. There was a lot of twisting and turning. At one point, Houston had wedged his four-wheeler against a tree requiring all three of them to get it free.

They didn’t make it the next five hundred feet when Screech tried to pass Houston and Charlotte. He had just cleared Charlotte when he hit a rock, which sent him sideways and eventually slamming his front right tire into a tree – and sent him flying another ten feet into a thicket of jaggers.

Houston and Charlotte came to a sliding stop to avoid any contact with Screech and his four-wheeler. When the dust settled, they saw Screech standing – or hanging – in the jaggers like a scarecrow and unable to move. They couldn’t help laughing as they tried to get to him.

“You’re a dumbass. What were you trying to prove? We should leave you here to get yourself out,” Houston said in disdain.

Screech replied, “Just trying to have some fun.”

Charlotte laughed as he pulled Screech’s arm, “C’mon, man.”

“Ow, ow, ow, the jaggers are ripping my skin.”

Houston replied, “Good.”

By the time they had freed Screech, blood was beginning to appear all over his body, and he had a pretty good cut on his cheek and near his eye. Screech never fastened his helmet, and it had flown off during his flight into the jaggers.

“Here, put this handkerchief over that cut until we get back and can dress it better,” Charlotte offered.

With that, they were off racing again. Within several minutes, they saw Dallas and several others in a clearing. Dallas started waving his arm and flashing his light, as if no one could see him.

As they drove up, Houston thought, he’s such an idiot. Everything is a joke with this guy.

Houston was the first to climb off his four-wheeler. He grabbed the gas can and presented it to Dallas. “Here’s your gas, moron. Didn’t you gas up before you left? And what’s with your two-way radio anyway?”

Dallas stepped forward, hugged Houston, stepped back, rubbed his face and said, “We…<crackling bacon>…echni…<crackling bacon>...culties.” He then began to laugh and soon after the others in his crew joined in the laughter.

“Well, you son of a bitch. You really are an idiot,” Houston yelled out.

“But his morse code skills are top notch,” Charlotte said.

“You’re an ass.”

Screech, who was still sitting on his four-wheeler and holding a blood-soaked handkerchief, yelled out, “I think you mean…di dah…di di dit…di di dit.”

https://morsedecoder.com/

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