Station Blue

EPISODE 6: SILENT 

EXT. THE ICE - OVERCAST

Matthew is digging through the snow, heavy breathing.

INTRO MUSIC

CREDITS 

Station Blue

Episode 6

Silent 

INT. FRONT HALLWAY - DAY (ALWAYS DAY)

Matthew swallows a handful of pills. He is unboxing Christmas lights. Dragging a shop light. Hammering in nails. Adding more christmas lights. 

VOICE OVER

Leads, that’s not helping.

Come on, you know it’s not, it’s 

Matthew is ignoring him.

You're out of shop lights. You're out of light bulbs. 

If those couldn't chase away the darkness what do you expect a bunch of Christmas lights to do? 

A pause.

Matthew starts nailing in the Christmas lights. 

Yeah okay. Keep going. That's just fine. 

God you're frustrating. 

You could open up the dorms you know? Take down the light blocking curtains, some sun would make it through-

Matthew grabs rope and starts tying it to the door knobs. 

Or just tie the door knobs together! 

That's going to look great when the others show up!

Welcome to Station Blue! Sorry that you can't get to the bedrooms! What's that you say, the flight was long and you need to use the bathroom!?

Here, I made you a Christmas themed obstacle course, have fun, good luck!

Matthew continues to tie things together, put nails in the walls. 

He eats another handful of pills.

He grabs something from the hallway and drags it out.

Oh great. Elvis. You going to put him on guard? Is he going to protect you while you sleep? 

Matthew opens the front door and throws the cardboard cutout into the ice.

That's littering you know. Cardboard is not a natural part of the Antarctic wilderness. What did he ever do to deserve-

Matthew slams the door. 

Okay. Fine. 

Matthew takes out a bottle of pills and starts chugging. 

Ugh...

INT. BATHROOM - DAY (ALWAYS DAY) 

Matthew gets out of the shower, puts on a towel, shivering slightly. He freezes. 

VOICE OVER

Are we really doing this? 

Matthew brings in a paint bucket and brush and starts painting over the mirror. 

Is this really necessary? 

I know how you feel about mirrors but paint seems a little dramatic.

Matthew continues to paint.

Interesting color choice. 

Beat

You know, dragging all of the tables from the kitchen to block up the way to THE DOOR was a bit much, but I could understand it. 

Using three rolls of gaffer tape to completely seal off the elevator... I'm not going to judge you for that.

But those are all reversible. You're going to come to your senses. You're going to calm down.

The headaches will ware off and the damage you've done to your stomach from going through two bottles of ibuprofen will heal. 

Paint on the other hand, is permanent. You could have taken down the lights and the traps but this?

They're going to see this, you know that right? 

You could have kept this whole incident quiet, but that's permanent damage right there. 

Matthew drops the brush, rolls up in a ball, breathing heavily. 

Could you at least put on some clothes on before you zone out again? It’s cold.

TRANSITION

EXT. THE SEAL MUMMY - OVERCAST 

Matthew is outside by the seal mummy. 

VOICE OVER

That seal mummy? 

Is that you’re new friend?

Whens the last time you slept? It's not good for you to be-

Leads, don't touch that, just, will you chill out? 

Will you just sit down? Sit down and chill out for a minute? 

Matthew sits back in the snow. 

Do you remember your grandparents place when you were a kid? It was the only place that felt home to you.

After school every other Friday the Old Man would load you up in the backseat of his car with a backpack and a sack lunch. 

Drive you up the mountains where they lived. A long and windy drive. You'd get a little car sick but it was worth it.

When the trees got thick you knew you were close. 

Past the little town, up one of the country roads, a left turn on gravel would take you up the lane to their place. 

Oh, it was a great house. Two stories, old building. Unique. A place where a kid could be a kid. Not like those cookie cutter houses you get in the suburbs.

Your Old Man would pull up front, stay seated. You'd make brief eye contact with him in the rear view mirror before undoing your seat belt and hopping out. 

He'd drive off to do whatever it was he did those weekends. Wouldn't come in. Wouldn’t say hi. Wouldn't say a word. Totally silent.

And you’d go straight to the side entrance. You'd walk in the kitchen, all old brick and warm light.

And they would be there, baking together, maybe talking about a book they just read or a local piece of gossip.

You would throw your backpack up on the table. Grandpa would yell about a burglar being in the house.

Grandma would sit you on the stool and size you up. She had a piercing gaze, she was a wise woman. 

She would ask you how you were doing, how you were growing. You would tell her about your life and she would nod, brows furrowed.

We didn't realize it at the time but I think she was judging our Old Man. Judging how he was raising us, figuring out what damage she'd need to fix. Cleaning up his sloppy work. That was her way. 

She would give a final nod, hug you and head out to work in the yard. Then grandpa would take over.

He was a stern man, like your father, but unlike your father he was kind too, he had a sense of humor. When your Old Man told you off it felt like disapproval. When Grandpa told you off it felt like he was trying to help. 

He'd show you some sports tickets or tell you about the animals that had been wandering into the property. After that you would head out to his truck and he'd drive you to the ice cream store. He'd always get you one more scoop than you asked for. Usually the weirdest flavor they had, something seasonal. Remember Sorbet Pecan? What were they thinking.

When he got back he'd send you out to play in the yard before it got dark while he prepared dinner. You’d usually go and watch Grandma work

She was always so busy. So productive. She'd be painting the house, mending a fence, laying stones for a new path. That was her world and she made it in her own image, piece by piece. 

You always loved the sitting fence on the edge of the property that she build. Just three sections wide, not holding anything in or out, it was just there to sit on.

It was quiet back there, on that line between the house and the forest. 

You would stare out at the trees. You'd wonder what it would be like to get lost in there. Wandering around for days, calling out, going in circles, getting more and more desperate.

Kind of dark thoughts for a kid but you were like that. And you wouldn't stop there. You would go deeper.

You would visualize the types of things you might find in those woods. The scariest things you could think of. 

A hole opening up in the earth, swallowing you. You would be trapped in the dark, alone, unable to climb out. It would start raining, the hole would fill up and your foot would get stuck in a rock, leaving you to drown.

You would think about finding an abandoned toy. You would clean it up in a stream, set it out to dry. You would turn to pick up some rocks to throw at the water, but when you looked back the toy would have moved. It was alive. It would chase you, come after you.

You would think of something tall and confusing stalking you on your hike. Every time you looked back it would hide behind a tree or a stone. You would never see it, but it was there, waiting for its moment. 

Sometimes you would go looking for those things. You would chase the fear. And you always felt okay because you knew that if anything went wrong you could run back, hop that sitting fence and be safe. 

You would be on hallowed ground. The Grandparents property.

The sun would set and Grandpa would break your reverie with the dinner bell.

Grandma would take you to the outdoor sink smelling of soil and home.

You’d walk in all cleaned up and sit in front of the TV while they got food on the table, watching whatever was on. Old movies usually, Snow White, things you wouldn't normally find interesting but that were perfect for that house. 

You would fall in love with them and never be able to watch them anywhere else. 

After dinner you would eat something grandpa baked that day while playing a board game or reading. Grandma would read something old, Grandpa would read something new. And you always went back to Calvin and Hobbs. 

They would whisper together. You would wonder at their relationship.

You didn't know if you would ever be able to be a husband. But you knew that if you did get married you would want it to be like Grandma and Grandpa. They were a team.

You got the sense that they had been through hell together, that they had betrayed each other, faced heart break together and even that wasn't enough to break them. 

That their bond was stronger than the trials of the world. There was something inspiring about that. 

Do you remember the last ritual of your evening together? The best part of the day? 

They would put on an episode of The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes with Jeremy Brett. He's still the best Sherlock, no question.

You would cling to that episode. It would take you places. A story in front of you, the Grandparents behind you, one lamp on. That was family. That was safe. 

Do you remember Leads?

Matthew? 

Matthew shifts.

Just say something... 

Please, just say... anything.

Just don’t leave me alone. I’m tired of being alone. 

Usually can’t get you to shut up about the most mundane and meandering things but now you're all tight lipped? 

I tried to help you! I'm trying to help you!  

Fine! Keep up the poker face! You won't mind if I finish the story! 

TRANSITION

EXT. THE ICE - OVERCAST

Matthew walks through ice and snow.

VOICE OVER 

That episode of Sherlock Holmes was the best part of your day but it was also the worst. 

It's difficult to enjoy something when you're anticipating what'll happen when it ends, isn't it Leads?

You were okay at ignoring it when you were a kid but it just got worse and worse as you got older.

You can hardly enjoy anything anymore! As soon as something nice happens you anticipate how awful it'll be when it ends, and how painful the memories will be when they're in the past!

The closer you got to the conclusion, to Sherlocks "who dun it" speech the more your anxiety would grow. 

The grandparents were nice and relaxed after a full day but you knew things were just getting started. 

Is that why you would stare into the woods? Go looking for terrors? Were you trying to find something scarier than what was to come? Swallowing a spider to eat the fly?

The grandparents would pour you a glass of water, and tell you to sleep well and head upstairs. Far away from you. 

Which left you to the mirror room. 

Matthew opens the front door.

INT. STATION ENTRANCE - DAY (ALWAYS DAY)

VOICE OVER

The mirror room wasn't safe, was it? It was the one place on the property where you weren't protected. 

The bed was too big. There were too many pictures on the wall. Pictures of relatives, half of them probably dead, people you didn't know. Staring at you. Watching.

There were no curtains on the window. You were on the first floor and it looked out into the yard, into the woods. On a moonlit night it was all shadow and vague shape. Anything could be out there. Anything could have crawled in.

But that wasn't the worst part. That wasn't what kept you up at night. 

You would tiptoe into the room, leap onto the bed to make sure that any monsters waiting underneath wouldn't have the chance to grab your feet. Once atop you would freeze.

You would slowly slide under the blankets with your eyes closed so that you wouldn't attract the attention of anything living in the closet. 

Put the pillow over your head, just above your eyes, pull up the blankets just above your noes... 

And look at the mirrors. 

He opens a door.

The mirrors were what kept you up at night. The mirrors haunted your dreams when you finally fell asleep. 

There weren't even that many of them. The sliding closet on the wall at your feet. The one built into the armoire next to the door. And the standing mirror in the corner. 

But anywhere you looked you could see a mirror. Anywhere but the window that is.

And what kind of kid looks out of the window on a moonlit night? 

Reflections are the worst, aren't they?

Especially in the dark. 

Especially when you're hiding from them. 

You never trusted your mirror self. You never trusted what They intended for you. 

They would smile when you smiled. Cry when you cried. But it felt like an act. A ploy.

A plot to get you comfortable. Complacent. Lazy. 

You knew that when your reflection got the chance They would pull you in, trap you on the other side of The Looking Glass. To the strange and unknown.

You know the Mirrors are very specific about what they show you. People seem to assume that the world on the other side of the mirror reflects our own, but how can they be sure?

How can they know that just over the edge, where we can't see, things are going to be the same? 

Let's say you enter a room with another person. Sarah maybe. Let's say you enter a room with Sarah. And there's a mirror in that room.

You're watching the mirror. And Sarah decides to leave by the same door that you entered from. 

You know where YOUR Sarah went. You know what she's seeing.

But can you say, with confidence, that you know what mirror Sarah is seeing? 

Who's to say that her world is anything like ours? 

Who's to say that the pieces we see aren't just elaborate sets in a very alien world? 

And what if they were ever to give away the plot? 

You've waited for it countless times. 

Staring at yourself. Daring your reflection to move. 

To blink. To twitch.

That's all it would take, right? A twitch of a finger? One twitch and everything you ever suspected would be confirmed. One twitch and you would know that the mirrors are not reflections. They are windows. They’re Doors. 

You hated that room. Too many mirrors to watch. You didn't want to look at them but you also didn't want the things on the other side to sneak up on you. 

You couldn't run. What if something grabbed you? What if they took you?

You couldn't yell out. Your grandparents were far and if there was something out there the noise would alert it to your presence. 

All you could do was wait and pray for the sun to come up, for the end of the long night. For the gentle knocking of your Grandpa and the smell of breakfast. The things that would break the silence. The signs of safety. 

No signs of safety here are there Matthew? 

Matthew breathes out, packs a bag, and leaves The Station.

Where are you going?

TRANSITION

Ext. THE ICE - OVERCAST

VOICE OVER

This isn’t right, where are you going?

Matthew?

Matthew!

The voice over splits, the cracking of bone and flesh, two mouths speak.

Stop... where are you going...

OUTRO MUSIC - FRIGID WIND

This episode of Station Blue was written and directed by Chad Ellis and produced by Gretchen Schrieber, Kesenia Zinkevich, and Wes Jordan Frisby.

The cover art was created by Kessi Riliniki.

Our intro and exit music, Frigid Wind, was composed by Sage GC.

Matthew Leads was voiced by Chad Ellis.

You can follow the show on Twitter and Instagram @StationBluePod and email us at stationbluepodcast@gmail.com

Transcripts are available on our website, stationbluepodcast.com

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While you wait we recommend listening to Spines, an Audio Drama Podcast.

Two months ago, Wren woke up, covered in blood, suffering from memory loss and surrounded by the remnants of some strange cult ritual.

Spines is a story of her search for answers, and the deadly, powerful people she encounters along the way.

That’s all for tonight!

My name is Kristen McLaughlin, and until next time.

I will haunt you.