Charlie fell into the chair. Thick headphones on, coffee next to soundboard, he leaned into the microphone as the song faded in his ears. He pulled the slider down. The tiny studio took on a dim red haze. “And that was the Pumpkin Blood with Lou Lou. Great song. They’re Swedish group you’ve never heard of. For first time listeners; I’m here bringing you music you didn’t realize existed and cluing you into everything the scaly bastards don’t want you to know. This is the Midwestern Moon Review.”
The signal strength was running high. He checked the security feed and smiled a little. “For all those long time listeners, thanks for coming back, I know it’s been a while. We have a new location and are still devoted to bringing you music, news, and ideas you are not supposed to have.” Charlie took a quick sip of coffee. “New rumors from the south coast have cropped up. Our informants are reporting three blues razed the over a hundred miles of coastline and the suburbs there. If you’re in the area, time to get the hell out, or keep your head down if you can’t. I’m sorry to report there has only been radio silence from Alabama. That doesn’t bode well for the farmer’s rebellion we’ve covered before. Our thoughts here at the review are with them.”
He took a deep breath and reminded himself to keep up the even cadence. “The news isn’t all bad. A town in rural California managed to take down an adolescent green that’d been preying on their high school kids. Good for them. We’ll be bringing you more on that as it comes in. Big news from the Northern Borders. A student resistance movement has cropped up around the great lakes. No details yet, but us here at the Midwestern Moon Review extend our support. The next song is for them. Mavra by 100 Derece.”
Charlie faded in a punk rock song from Turkey. He closed his eyes and leaned back listening to the language he didn’t speak as it pounded next to his ears. The door clicked. Charlie rocketed to his feet, headphone cord snapping the jack free. He ripped them off his head only to blink at the girl gently closing the studio door. She smiled at him from over a shoulder.
“It’s alright. I’m not going to hurt you.” Her eyes flashed gold in the low lighting. Charlie sucked in breath as the pressure of centuries flashed over him. The microphones were muted, the song still going. Charlie considered flipping the on air switch. It would sure be a hell of a last show.
“What are you doing here?” His voice shook a little but he took a step closer to the switch.
“I wanted to give an interview.” She turned towards him, pushing a curtain of slinky black hair over a shoulder. Her deep marigold sundress was paired oddly with light blue high-tops. The dragon, if not her clothes, looked perfectly at ease, if a bit curious as she leaned towards the sound board.
“An interview?” He was still having trouble breathing, but the weirdness of the request cut through the panic. Her kind never asked, they took. A decade of reporting on them had taught him that much.
She nodded. “Yes. Will you interview me?” The dark golden eyes met his again and Charlie could feel the quiet weight of them again. He gestured to the seat across from his almost hastily. She sat and Charlie passed her a large pair of headphones. She grinned once they were over her ears, even tapping the plastic with a finger as if headphones were novel.
Charlie frowned, this was not how he’d pictured the scene when the monsters finally found him. The song queue had moved on. Charlie faded it out, interrupting the indie ballad. “Sorry for the interruption folks, interesting development right here in the studio. We’ve got a guest, and…an interview for you.”
Her attention seemed caught between him, the microphone and the various other equipment, as if unsure where to look. Charlie pointed to the hanging mic and breathed out. “So tune in, whatever happens next on the Midwestern Moon Review, you’re going to want to hear it.”