The Sand Jacker Tape

File Content Abstract:

The following document is a Certified Tech-Trued, verbatim transcript of an antique analog audio cassette tape recording found in the ruins of an isolated and abandoned pre-war fuel station in Gamma Sector. The discovery of the recording occurred shortly after Coalition Forces resumed Patrol, Decontamination, and Eradication (PDE) operations in that sector in the third lunar cycle of the 233rd solar year of the Coalition Era (233 CE). The recording was found still inside the antique recording device, which was inoperable and damaged beyond tech-mending. However, most of the audio recording remained intact and was extracted from the magnetic analog tape by Coalition tech-healers after retrieval. In close proximity to the recording device, the patrol also found a crude, hand-written sign scrawled in Archaic English “cursive” script, which translates approximately as: “Please leave a message after the existing recording… [illegible]… Thank you.”

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Timestamp: 00:00:00

Voice 1: To anyone finding this recorder, please leave a message. Um…over.

00:04:41

Voice 2: When I first saw this sign and tape recorder, I thought it was a trap. I’m still not convinced it is not. I can’t believe I’m doing this, but if there is any chance there is another living human out here, I, uh…it’s just been a long time since I had anyone to talk to, I guess. Even the sound of the voice on this recording seems like a trick of some kind. Anyway, though, I guess the habits that have kept me alive out here wouldn’t let me completely buy into this idea without testing it. Before leaving this message I observed this building from a distance for several days. During that time I saw one of those deformed creatures come and go into and out of the building numerous times. Maybe it was the same one or maybe it wasn’t. It’s so hard to tell with those hideous things… [distortion, unintelligible]…looked like the same shabby rags hanging from its misshapen body. I call the creatures sand jackers, for lack of a better name. I have no idea what they might call themselves, if they even have the capacity to have a name for what they are. I have never heard one speak or make any sound other than grunts. After determining a pattern in its comings and goings, I took advantage of one of the regular absences of the sand jacker to leave this message in case there is even the slightest chance that someone, anyone who can understand me will get this message. I must leave now for some time to procure food, but I will return, if I am able. If anyone receives this message, please leave a response. Over.

01:30:04

Voice 1: Oh, thank God! To hear another human voice after all this time…[sobbing, unintelligible]…thought I would never hear my own kind, my own language from another voice again…[distortion, unintelligible]…such a relief to know I am not entirely alone. Just like you, I have watched this building from a hidden position for many days on end. It seems like forever, just watching. I have seen the creature you mention. I don’t really have a particular name for them, so I suppose “sand jackers” will do [unintelligible—possibly laughter] I swear there is something loathsome in everything about them: their hunched, twisted bodies; their lumpy heads and blotchy faces; their shambling, limping gait; the filthy, tattered rags they wear. So odd they even try to wear clothes. In my trips to check the recorder, I have seen no tracks other than the shuffling marks left by those foul creatures coming and going on their spindly hind legs. Whoever you are, you sure must be stealthy. I have not seen any human nor found any signs of one coming or going except for the recording …[coughing, unintelligible]… possible that the sand and dust storms may have hidden your approach and erased your tracks. I do my best to maintain my watch in the dim orange light of those days, but sometimes the air is so full of this damned baby powder dust that I can’t see past the end of my arm, to say nothing of the darkness at night. I try to lie low in hours of darkness. I have no idea if those things can see in the dark, but I am not willing to test the issue as I…[speech trails off, unintelligible]… Who are you? I am Mara. Tell me if you have news of any others like us. All I want is to get back to my own kind. Leave a reply if you hear this message. Over.

03:18:96

Voice 2: Mara. Holy Mother of…[distortion, unintelligible]…can’t believe I’m hearing another person responding to my message. Hello Mara. I am Cecil. I am so sorry, but I have no news of any other humans, only me. I was hoping that you would know something about others, if you were real at all. I have seen more, many more of those disgusting sand jackers farther off, about a day’s walk toward the rising sun, living in squalid encampments in ruined buildings like these. I think a lack of water and food near here may be what has kept their numbers few in this vicinity. To tell the truth, I do not know exactly what it is that they eat. I have seen from a distance something that looks like long, red strips of meat roasting over fires and hanging from wooden racks in their camps, perhaps drying to preserve it. I cannot imagine where they are getting such large strips of meat, as my own foraging in the wilds toward the setting sun has turned up nothing larger than lizards, rodents, and scorpions. Actually, I can imagine…[coughing, unintelligible]… just don’t want to believe it. The stench from their camps is indescribable. I can only suppose they have no sense of smell or they have become so accustomed to their own stink that they are unaffected by it. To be honest, I’m not too sure I smell so good myself. It’s been such a long time since I smelled anything but the foul vapors of this region, I am afraid I am forgetting what “good” even smells like. How long has it been since I have seen, let alone smelled fresh-cut, green grass…[distortion, unintelligible]… flowers, pine trees, untainted water? You know, in a ruined house out in the wilds some weeks ago, I found a jug half full of bleach in a cabinet in the basement. I took off the cap and sniffed the aroma of it. Sure, it’s just a chemical, right? But to get even a whiff of a smell other than the fetid stench of this place, a smell my mind can link back to some sense of cleanliness—oh, God, it was a relief! I splashed it on my hands to cleanse them of the filth of this place, but the burning made me drop the jug, and its contents chugged out onto the dusty floor as I writhed from the burning, sticking my hands into the drifts of dust in the corners of the rooms, not having any water I could spare to wash them. I’m not too sure what to make of it, the burning. I know bleach can irritate skin, but so suddenly, so intensely? If only I could get away from this contaminated place, if we could get away, you and me. Get clean again. Get healthy again. I wish I could talk to you directly…[coughing, unintelligible]…have watched the building day and night, and I have seen only the occasional sand jacker creeping in or out. I know that you, as much as I, must rely on stealth to avoid those wretched abominations, so that is most likely why we have not encountered each other yet. Perhaps we can work out a way to evade the sand jackers and link up. I hope so. Anyway, I shouldn’t stay any longer. I will check back soon, Mara. Hang in there. Cecil.

06:26:42

Voice 1: Cecil. So good to have a name for you, a name that I can say…[distorted, unintelligible]… seems all I can think about now is meeting you and talking to you face to face. I have not seen another human face except in dreams for so, so long. I can’t even see my own face, what with nothing smooth enough to cast a clear, undistorted reflection in this corrupted place—glass and shiny metals pitted and dulled, and no water pools large enough or clean enough. But you know all of that. I am growing concerned about the recorder. Your voice seems so distorted when I play back the recording. I was concerned something had happened to you, but in listening to my own voice in the playbacks, I sound distorted too. If the machine malfunctions or if the batteries run out, I don’t know where I would find replacements in this wasteland. We must meet soon, or we may be out of contact. I have a plan. If we could both meet in the building at the same time, we could overpower the sand jacker that haunts this place. I have a gun…[distortion, unintelligible]…forty-five, but only one bullet left. I was saving it for myself if those sand jackers ever caught me. I can shoot the thing, but I am afraid to try it alone. Since I can’t tell what day you will hear this, we can’t just agree on a particular day. I don’t even know if I remember all the names of days, let alone which one is now. I have an idea. I have some candles and matches. They are small candles that won’t burn for long. With the low oxygen content here, they won’t burn too bright either, so you will have to look sharp. I will bring one the next time I come and leave it burning beside the recorder. If you see a lit candle, you will know I have been there recently. I will withdraw and observe the candle. You do the same. When the candle goes out, come to the recorder. When I see it go out, I will return either to meet you or to light another candle. I hope this works. Let me know you got this message and understand the plan. I am lighting a candle now, and I will light another candle at my next visit after hearing your response. I hope to see you soon, Cecil. Mara.

08:26:01

Voice 2: Mara. I understand the plan. The candle is burning now as I record this. I will withdraw and wait for it to go out. I don’t have a …[distortion, unintelligible]… do have a survival knife. When we face the sand jacker, we will face it together. Together. Soon we will be together. The candle won’t last much longer. I must retreat now and wait. See you soon. Cecil.

08:51:54 << No further recordings were found on the tape past this timestamp >>

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Analysis:

There are two distinct voices present in the recording. Audio tech-sensing has led to the hypothesis that Voice 1 (AKA Mara) is that of an adult human female and Voice 2 (AKA Cecil) is that of an adult human male, although degradation of the recording medium has left some uncertainty about those gender details. However, the vocal range and speech patterns seem unlikely to be anything other than terrestrial human in origin. The skeletal remains of two T-Fours (Coalition Designation: Type IV Rad Mutants), characterized by their typical distortion of bone formation, were also found in the vicinity of the building, and they are assumed to be the remains of creatures described as “sand jackers” in the recording by the two humans on the tape, although neither speaker mentioned seeing more than one of the creatures at any one time in the ruins where the recorder was found. It is interesting to note that the recordings describe the T-Fours (“sand jackers”) as walking upright on hind legs, a trait not seen in T-Four mutants in the present day. One T-Four skeleton had a circular hole through the skull, roughly between eleven and twelve millimeters in diameter, likely caused by a high-velocity, gas-propelled projectile weapon. The other skeleton had a large pre-war military-style cutting blade with a nearly 18-centimeter blade lodged in its ribcage with the distorted phalanges of its skeletal fore-limbs still wrapped around the handle. Tech-sensing determined the blade to be composed of carbon/iron alloy, greatly corroded by oxidation and exposure to caustic contaminants, and the handle was wrapped in what appears to be the preserved hide of a once common species of extinct bovine. The whereabouts of the humans in the recording or their remains is still unknown, though there is some question how long they could have survived in the Gamma Sector without proper protective gear or a source of potable water. However, given the persistence of the T-4 Rad Mutant infestation in that sector, there may be resources available we have yet to discover. Certainly, the mutants may have adapted to the climate, but our experts cannot account for how humans might survive out there for longer than two or three suns without protective equipment.

The authenticity status of the recording remains officially “unverified” by tech-auditors due to anomalies in the tech-dating of the artifact (see below). However, the patrol members were all truth-checked by a Level II deep scan, which verified their report of the details of the tape’s discovery, and it seems unlikely that anyone would willingly subject themselves to the hazards of the Gamma Sector just to perpetrate a hoax of this kind. The precise age of the recording remains unknown, likely due to prolonged exposure to radiation and other contaminants in the Gamma Sector, which has complicated standard tech-craft for establishing the age of recovered artifacts. The device and medium are consistent with technology from the pre-war (PW) period, likely dating to roughly 20 to 30 PW, though the content of the audio tape makes it doubtful the recordings were made before the war. If authentic and accurate, some proposed interpretations of this recording have raised concerns that may complicate reclamation of Gamma Sector from the hostile life forms currently occupying it, and Central Command has thus directed that the tape and its contents must therefore remain undisclosed to the general public until declassified.

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author bio:

Dennis Humphrey teaches writing and literature at Prince William Sound College in Valdez, Alaska, and he has a PhD in English/Creative Writing from the University of Louisiana Lafayette. He has published fiction in such places as storySouth, Southern Hum, Clapboard House, Prick of the Spindle, BloodLotus, SN Review, Dunes Review, Silver Blade Magazine, and The Copperfield Review, and he has published creative non-fiction in Collateral, Bloodletters, and cahoodaloodaling.