I Answer Emergency Calls That Don't Come From Any City

Want to hear brand new horror stories brought to life? Live? Join me every Sunday at 7pm Eastern Time on the Doctor No Sleep Podcast YouTube channel, where I narrate fresh, never-before-heard stories in real time. Just search Doctor No Sleep Podcast on YouTube and make sure you're subscribed with notifications on so you don't miss it. Doctor No Sleep. While keeping my attention on my current call, I glance over at the new girl, Beverly, and can tell she's got a tough one on her hands. Yes, I know, I know. She says, her voice afforsed professionalism. I told her that she could be real, be herself, that she didn't need to act like there were rules to all of this. There aren't. Well, except for one. When the phone rings, you answer it. Right. Yes, of course I want to help you. Beverly continues. Her eyes stare straight ahead at the blank wall in front of our desks. She knows I'm watching her. I can see it in her posture. So I give her a smile, even though she's avoiding my gaze. Then I turn my head and focus on the desk on the other side of mine. She ain't gonna make it. Nucky says. Norman Nucky Nuckerstien. He was here when I started and says he'll still be here long after I'm gone. He's probably right. Despite the promise of advancement, I don't ever see Nucky leaving this job. He's too good at it. He knows exactly what to say and when to say it. His knowledge of geography and history is unparalleled. He once had a call from a woman who said she was in core Delaney, Idaho, which was surprising. Half the time or more, they had no clue where they were. That's why they called us. Anyway, this woman is going off about her emergency and Nucky just interrupts her to ask, Have you had the tofu scrambled at the Wedgewood Diner? I didn't have to be eavesdropping on the call to know the woman probably stopped talking instantly. Nucky got a little grin on his face. Yeah, yeah, try the tofu scrambled when you can. The seasoning and spicing are perfect. He laughed. I usually get a side of bacon with it. I'm not a vegetarian. I just really, really love that tofu scramble. He nodded. He waited. He laughed again. Yes, yes, exactly. Right next to the pawn shop. You know where it is. That's great. He leaned in and rested his arms on the table, his focus entirely on the large, bake light phones sitting in front of him. I know, I totally understand, but he's gone now. Nucky sighed. No, no, he is. Trust me. If you take that blanket off slowly now and look around, you won't see him or anything else upsetting. Just focus on the Wedgewood Diner and that tofu scramble. If you focus on those two things, then you'll get where you need to be. He sighed again, then cracked a smile. Yeah, sure. Go for the pancakes. They're great too. Although if you want my opinion, I'd try the french toast instead. Pancakes? Wonderful. The toast? Blow your freaking mind. He laughed hard and loud. Oh, that's a good one. I hadn't heard that before. He legit wiped tears from his eyes. No, thank you. It's because of you that I do this. Then he hung up and gave me a wink. Today, there's no wink. Bringing in a new operator is always rough. The things we deal with, the things that are described to us, the horrors that echo in the background of those calls, the screams, the crying, the begging and the pleading, all of it. It's rough. Just goddamn rough. Nucky's full gaze is on me. His eyes, like warning beacons in the night, tell me there are rocky shores ahead. Steer clear, steer clear. Come on, Nucky, it's her first day. I look back at Beverly. She's struggling. Her jaw is set so tight, I'm afraid she'll crack a tooth. Returning my attention to Nucky, I can't miss the I know it all look on his face. This is her second call, Nucky. Give her at least a full shift before you pass judgment. Trig, my boy, I have been at this a lot longer than me. I know. You remind me every single day. Do I? That's weird, because it seems like every single day you forget. Accept my wisdom, Trig. Move on. She'll crack like they usually do. Then there will be another Beverly, or Amanda, or Brian, or Timothy, or Trig. Cute. I'm a one-of-a-kind Nucky. They broke the mold with me. They broke something, all right. There's a clatter of heavy plastic, and I glance at Beverly. She set the handset back into the phone's cradle and is holding her head in her hands. The phones we use are as old school as they get. Right out of the 1960s, beigeish yellow, heavy as shit. You could brain a person with one if you picked it up and swung straight for there. Stop staring. Beverly whispers without looking at me. It's rude. Sorry, I say, but don't turn away. Was it a bad one? Now she looks at me, and if looks could kill. A bad one? Um, yeah, it was a bad one. She pushes back from the desk and scoffs. Are there ever good ones? Nope. Nucky smiles at her. Take a break if you need to. You won't miss anything. What if there's another call? There's always another call, sweetie. Nucky says. Beverly bristles at the sweetie. Nucky means well. He may look younger than us, but he's from a whole other time, I say. Don't make apologies for me, Trig. I can hold my own. Nucky says. I'm sorry about the sweetie thing. Old habit. You should break it. Beverly says. Then her phone rings. I'll take it. I reach for my handset. Take that break like Nucky said to do. You have to pace yourself. No. She grabs up the phone. Emergency services. How can I help you this evening? I can hear the screams from my desk. They escape from Beverly's phone like the stench of rot, seeping up through old cracked floorboards. Ma'am, I can hear you, yes. Beverly soothes. Just breathe until you can calm down. I'm not even looking at Nucky, and I already know that he winces. I do too. You just never tell them to calm down. It's the first thing we tell newbies during training. Telling the person on the other line to calm down is like shouting at a blazing house fire to just stop burning. Beverly's eyes go wide and she clutches at her throat. I'm sorry ma'am. I am. Please stop screaming at me. I am only here to help. The wail on the other end is so loud that it makes me cringe. Hang up. Nucky says. Beverly shoots him a death glare. No, do it. Nucky says with a shrug. Some can't be helped. Doubling down, Beverly turns away just enough to let us both know that she doesn't want our help. She may need it, but she doesn't want it. That was a dick thing to say, I tell Nucky. So what's it matter? Like I said, she won't be here for very long. She's not cut out for it. Says you. Says experience and reality. I purse my lips and cock my head. He holds his hands up in surrender. Alright, alright, reality might be stretching things a bit. You think? He laughs and is about to say something when his phone rings. Nucky's eyebrows raise up to his hairline. Well, will you look at that? He glances at my phone. It's been a while since Calls got out of order. There's a look in his eyes that I don't recognize. I've been working with Nucky the whole time I've had this job, and I've never seen that look before. Nucky clears his throat and picks up the handset. Emergency services, how can I help you this evening? There's no ear splitting whale, but Nucky's face gets serious in an instant. Yes ma'am, I can help you. Can you tell me where you are? Nucky nods as he listens. Okay, that's good. A barn. Is it an old barn or a new one? Nucky frowns, then smiles. Totally understand. I don't know shit about barns either. That's a lie. Nucky knows everything there is to know about barns. I'm about to turn my attention to Beverly again since her side of the room has grown ominously quiet, but my phone rings. I frown at the contraption. Nucky was right that the Calls came in out of order. Could have been the new girl first, which happened, then me, which didn't happen. There's a lump in my throat from the irregularity of it all, but I swallow that lump down, take a deep breath, get myself centered, and pick up the handset. Emergency services, how can I help you this evening? Oh thank god! Someone finally picked up! What is happening? Why is 911 busy? I've been calling and calling, god damn it! The caller shouts. It's a woman on the other end. It usually is. These types of emergencies, unfortunately, tend to skew female. Ma'am, can you tell me where you are? I ask. This is the first and most important question. We need the Callers to give us a location. It helps them ground and return to a sense of self. I-I don't! She stammers. I hear her trying to get her breathing under control, which is good. I'm not sure. That's fine. I completely understand. How about I help you figure it out? I ask, giving Beverly a quick glance. She's still deep in her phone call, even though she's been quiet for a long time. How can you help me figure it out? My caller asks. You weren't here. No, true, but I've been doing this a while. You'd be surprised at what I can sort out with only a few clues. She breathes in slowly, then exhales slowly. Okay, I suppose it can't hurt. She is 100% right about that. What do you see right now? I ask. Um, not a lot. Describe it to me. Doesn't matter how small the detail. Tell me. Right. Sure. Um, I'm in a room. Good. Is it a big room or a small room? Medium. Great. Is it a bedroom? I don't think so. It's really, really dark. I know it is, but bear with me. Maybe a sienna furniture. I think there is a couch. Maybe a chair too. Some end tables. I see shapes like there might be end tables. Couch, chair, end tables. That sounds like a living room or dead. Maybe, but I think I'm underground. Why do you say that? I'm freezing my ass off. She's not, but they all say some version of how cold they are. How cold everything is. Okay, you're cold. A basement perhaps? Do you see stairs? No. There are no stairs, but there is a door. Yes, I see the outline of a door. I hear movement and keep myself calm and relaxed. No need to panic. Not yet. Okay, doors are sometimes good. They're sometimes bad. Let's skip the door for now. Skip the door? Are you crazy? It's got to be the way out. Damn it. This one has zero clue what situation she's in. It might be, yes, but it could also be a trap. Do you understand what I'm saying? No. I get that, but you need to trust me on this. Trust you? I don't know you. But you called me, remember? You called emergency services and I picked up. I am here to help you in any way I can, but you have to let me help you, alright? Jesus, is your name Captain Glickshade? I laugh. No, it's Trig. Trig? What the hell kind of name is that? Mine, but let's focus on you. Where are you in the room? Are you sitting? 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Now available in Canada too. That's q-u-i-n-c-e dot com slash dns for free shipping and 365 day returns. Quince dot com slash dns. I like this caller. She has guts. Plenty of fight still in her despite the fight already being over. Can you stand up? Of course. Then please stand up and let's take a tour of the room. Why the shit would I do that? I should just go out that door and get the hell out of here. I sigh and rub my forehead. She's backtracking. Never a good sign. We've talked about that. Leave the door be. Right now I need you to help me figure out your exact location. If you want help getting out of there you have to listen to me. Her breathing is even if a little forced. She knows my name and I'd ask her for hers but that's not how this works. She is my caller, that's all. If she offers her name that's a different story. Okay, I'm getting up now. She says her voice barely above a whisper. She'd found comfort in her corner seat. I'm forcing her out of that comfort. The first few calls I did this I felt like the cruelest bastard ever. Nucky talked me off that ledge and told me that a little cruelty is needed sometimes to snap them out of it. Otherwise they'll never move on and always be stuck where they are. What do I do? She asks, tell me what you see. I did. But you were sitting down. What do you see now? She doesn't answer right away but I don't push. She has to tackle this in her own time. It makes the calls last longer which is never fun. But it's part of how it all works. There's the couch and chair, two end tables and a desk. A desk? Good. Desks have information in them. Can you walk to the desk? Do I have to? It's on the far side of the room. I wait, still not pushing. She sighs. Fine, let me check it out. Thank you. I imagine her creeping across that dark room, avoiding the couch, the chair and two end tables. I can almost hear her footsteps. Um, I forgot to ask. But what is the floor like? The floor? Is it carpeted? Hardwood? Tile? I don't know. Why does it matter? Gotta be careful here. Um, it just does. It looks like...hold on. Um, yeah. It's concrete. Okay. Concrete floor. Probably a basement. Sure. Maybe. Do I still need to go to the desk? Yes, please. She huffs, but doesn't respond. I check on Beverly and she's shaking her head back and forth, back and forth. I try to catch her eye, but she refuses to look anywhere other than the wall straight ahead. I haven't heard her say a word in a long while. Nucky might be right. He's not going to be able to handle this job. Checking on Nucky, he's jabbering away on his phone and sort of smirking, which means his caller is probably figuring out their situation. Leave it to Nucky to get them there in record time. I'm Heather. My caller says, surprising me back to our conversation. Oh, hello Heather. I'm Trig. You said that. I did. How's the walk to the desk coming along? It's hard. Like really hard? Why is it so hard to get from one side of this room to the other? I could tell her, but it wouldn't help. It's dark. You're scared. I don't know if she buys it, but it's the answer I can give her. I listen to her breathing as she continues her journey. You got kids, Trig. She asks. The question takes me off guard. It's out of character for a caller to ask about an operator. No, I don't. I respond, which isn't a lie per se. Me neither. I want them, or I think I do. I'm not sure, she says. Ow, damn it! You OK? Stuck my toe on the coffee table. You didn't mention a coffee table before. I didn't see it until I jammed my goddamn toe on it. Anything else you may have missed? No, no, that's great. And again, I am truly sorry. I hope your transition is easy and smooth, like a good morning poop. Nucky says he laughs and laughs. Oh, I thought you liked that. Take care now. He hangs up and smiles at me. Then he frowns and mouths. You good? I shrug. He nods. Hey, there's a filing cabinet and also some cupboards. Heather, my caller says, returning me to my conversation. OK, is the filing cabinet open? What about the cupboards? Open. Are the filing cabinet drawers cracked a little? Could you pull one out and see what's inside? How does this help me get out of here? Gathering information is good. It's a lame answer, but it's the one I've got. Let me check. No! Beverly screams and leaves up from her seat, sending her chair flying back against the wall. Why would you say that? Shit. Nucky exclaims and jumps up. He clips my shoulder as he hurries past me, yanking the phone handset out of Beverly's hand and putting it to his ear. Who is this? Who are you? Trig, you there? Heather asks. I am, I am. I say, trying to focus on my caller while all hell breaks loose around me. Oh, is that so, asshole? Nicky shouts. Try it. I'd love to see what happens. Beverly stands in the middle of our call room, her arms wrapped around herself, entire body shivering uncontrollably. My instinct is to get up and hug her, to calm her down, but I'm still on my call with Heather. Trig, what's going on? Heather asks. Sorry, just busier tonight. I rip my attention back to her. I'm at the filing cabinet. Okay, this is where it gets tricky. There could be some solid information in the drawer that might help her. There could also be nightmares inside there, which will not help this process at all. Slowly open it, alright? But be careful, please. If anything in there is disturbing, maybe close the drawer and move on to the cupboards. What? I say that. Now I'm more freaked out. I sigh and close my eyes. Sorry, I just wanted to prepare you, that's all. For what? Huh, Trig? What are you preparing me for? Bitch, please. Nucky says. I eat your wrath for lunch. Tell me your name right now, dickhead. There's nothing in the drawer. Heather says. It's empty. Empty. Not good, but not a nightmare either. What about the others? I ask. Beverly mutters to herself as she slowly backs up to the far wall. Am I dead? Am I dead? Am I dead? Shit, she's cracking. I need to move this along. Check the drawers, Heather. I am! Don't rush me! Sorry, sorry. Beverly's back is against the wall now, and she is slowly sliding to the floor. Her eyes wild and unfocused. The other drawers are empty too. Heather says. I'll check the cupboards. Thank you. Why would he say that? Beverly mutters. He shouldn't have said that. Nucky covers the mouthpiece and looks over his shoulder at Beverly. Relax, sweetie, I got this. You just focus on something pleasant. Do you like ice cream? He takes his hand off the mouthpiece and growls. No shit for brains, I'm not talking to you. I couldn't give two wet farts if you like ice cream or not. Drake, the cupboards aren't empty. Heather whispers. The tone in her voice snaps me back to her plight. Beverly and Nucky will need to handle their own shit. All right, what's inside? I ask, not wanting to know at all. I hear her swallow. She starts to speak and swallows again. Take your time. I say, which is the last thing I want her to do. He said he cut them off. Beverly mumbles. He cut them off and feed them to me. Christ. I get one Nucky is right. Is someone there with you? Heather asks, avoiding telling me what she sees. Just a co-worker. You called emergency services. I'm not the only operator. Right, sorry. No need to apologize. I suck it up and ask again. What do you see in the cupboards? Containers, plastic containers. Big ones, small ones? Like for leftovers, so not bins, but also not super small. You could fit a... She gasps and her voice hitches as she finishes her sentence. A head in one. Shit, okay. Not what I wanted her to find right away. But we're here now, so gotta press forward. What do you see? I ask, closing my eyes as Beverly starts to whimper and whine from her spot on the floor. Do I see? What? Heather asks. I don't reply. This is hers to figure out. Trig, what am I supposed to see? You tell me. I lean back in my chair, got a bit of a headache forming. I rub my temples with the index finger and thumb of my free hand. Tell me what you see, Heather. There's some rummaging noises, then a soft quick pop. Oh my God! Heather screams and I hear something thunk. Heather, tell me what you see. I say again. I don't, I don't want to. You need to. No, I don't. I don't like this, any of this. I shouldn't have called you. No, Heather, it's good that you did. It means you are brave. It means you don't want to be there anymore. You're ready to leave, right? You are done and want to be somewhere else. Calling me was the first step to getting you somewhere else. I know his voice. I know it. Beverly says, her own voice flat and cold. I share a look with Nucky, even though he's still arguing with whoever is on the other end of that phone. Things have taken a serious turn for the worse. This isn't just about Beverly not being cut out for the job. This is a damn breach. I'd helped Nucky, but I'm stuck with my own duties. I can see from the look in his eyes that he knows that too. Do I have to tell you what's in the container? Heather asks. Unfortunately. Yeah, you do. She takes a deep breath. It's a head, Trig. It's a goddamn head. Male or female? What? Why does that even matter? It's a goddamn head. It matters. Male or female? I'm female, I think. Here comes the tricky part. Do you recognize her? What? Why would I recognize a damn severed head in a damn Tupperware container? I stay silent. Why the hell would I recognize her, Trig? I can't, I start to say. Then pull back and take a deep breath. Please answer the question, Heather. I don't want to. I know, but you have to. Jesus Christ. She mumbles. I hear a sharp intake of breath. Fine, hold on. All I need is a yes or no, Heather. I said, hold on. It's goddamn dark in here, and the container is on the floor. I have to pick it up. I wait. Another sharp intake of breath. No, I don't recognize her. She's young, late teens, early 20s. OK, what about the other containers? What about them, Trig? You're not asking me to open all of them, are you? That's exactly what I'm asking. But what I say is, how many are there? I don't know, 20, 30 maybe? Holy shit, where is she? 20, 30? Dear God. That lump in my throat is back, and I have to cough a few times to dislodge it. Open them all, please. You're a bastard, Trig. I called you for help. This isn't helping. Trust me, it is. It sucks, but it is helping. Asshole. There are several more soft pops, and I hear Heather gag after each one, which is just a learned reflex, an old habit. But she doesn't stop opening them. She doesn't hang up on me. They're all women, young like me. She says, how many are left? Two. Keep going. Bastard. I want out. Beverly suddenly shrieks. Get me out of here. She's up on her feet and slamming her palms against the wall. Where's the door? How do I get out of here? Crap. Nucky says, then returns his attention to the phone. Listen up, pal. Here's what's going to go down. You are going to suffer in hell. I am going to help a co-worker. When I hang up, both will happen. He listens. He laughs. Yeah? Well, good luck with that, asshole. Nucky slams the handset down on the phone, making the bell inside clang. Then he shakes his head at me and walks toward Beverly as her panic increases exponentially by the second. Bev? Sweetie? He says, don't call me that. Beverly shouts. What's happening, Trig? Heather asks. An emergency, but it's being handled. Where's the damn door? Beverly rages as Nucky carefully approaches her. Doesn't sound like it's being handled. Heather says, it is. You focus on the containers. It's hard, man. The smell is awful. I freeze. You can smell them? I stand up, very surprised, very confused. You shouldn't be able to smell them. Yeah, well, I do. And they stink, Trig. They aren't exactly refrigerated, you know? I spin and stare at Nucky, but he's occupied with Beverly's freakout. Heather, are you warm? I ask. Am I warm? No. I told you before that it's freezing down here. Oh, crap. Oh, Jesus. Oh, crap. Heather, touch your neck, please, I say. Nucky looks at me when I say that. I wave him off and pointed Beverly. He raises an eyebrow. I wave him off again. My neck? Heather asks. Yes, I need you to check to see if you have a pulse. What the hell kind of question is that? The most important question of your life. I shout. Damn, OK. Calm down. She says, not understanding the irony of her words. Yeah, I have a pulse. Why wouldn't I? Shit. All right. Change of tactics. I need you to find a weapon. A weapon? Why do I need a weapon? How many severed heads are you looking at right now, Heather? Good point. Anything will do. The sharper the better, but heavy works, too. Hold on. I'll check the desk. Hurry. I don't know how much time you have. How much time? Are the cops on their way? You did call them, right? I don't know where you are, Heather. That's what we're trying to figure out. I don't add that even if I know where she is, I can't call the cops. I can't call anyone. These phones don't dial out. There are noises on her end, like metal being tossed about. I found a letter opener. It's not sharp, but it's stabby. Good. Now go to the door. Open it and get the hell out of there. You said to ignore the door. Change of freaking plans, Heather. Go to the door. I have no idea what's happening, or if my advice is even good or not. I could get her killed, which would be one hell of a first. I'm at the door. I'm listening. I don't hear anything on the other side. Good. Go, go, go. I'm going. Don't touch me! Beverly shrieks at Nucky. Don't you dare touch me! Sorry, sweetie, but I sort of have to. Nucky says, the sadness in his voice obvious. Just hold still. I said not to touch me! She goes full feral and starts slashing at Nucky with her nails. Long, bloody streaks appear on his cheeks, but almost instantly heal over. Beverly doesn't even notice. She's barely aware of anything except for her own panic, her own pain. I'm out and running up the stairs, Heather exclaims. There's a door at the top. It's cracked. Go through and keep going. I can hear her stomping up the stairs. I hear a door creak loudly. She gasps. What is this? I really don't want to know what she sees, but the job is the job. Describe it, I say, and close my eyes. Beverly is still shrieking. Nucky is still calling her sweetie. Everything is a mess. I need to focus. Tell me what you see, Heather. Do I have to? Please? There's a guy here. He's up. Well, he's definitely dead. He has a gun in his hand. Looks like he shot himself. Dead? Oh, dead is good. Well, not for this guy. Do you see a phone anywhere? A phone? Sure. I mean, I'm talking to you on- And there it is, the realization I always try to achieve with my callers. But Heather isn't a typical caller. I mean, the fact that she smells and feels and is alive kind of makes her seriously atypical. Trig? Yes? How am I talking to you if I don't have a phone? Yeah, good question. I don't have a clue. This shouldn't be happening. Trig? Yes? What are you? An operator at emergency services. Am I talking to a dead person? Um, in my head? To be honest, I can't answer any of your questions. This is beyond my experience or expertise. Trig? Yes? I see a phone. Does it work? Hold on. I hear her clomp across the room. Yes, it works. What do I do now? You call 911. Someone will come help you. I thought you were 911. Yeah, well, emergency services is technically for those who are well past 911's help. Trig? Yes? Think? The line goes silent. Not dead, just silent. She must have dialed 911, and someone alive must have responded. Don't touch! Beverly shrieks one last time before Nucky grabs her by the sides of her head and snaps her neck. Her body falls to the floor and has dissolved into a fine mist before Nucky can even take a step back. They really need to vet candidates better. That was not fun. And I shouldn't have to do that, even if she is already dead. Nucky says, wiping his hands on his trousers. He looks over and smiles at me. How'd your call go? I laugh and sit back down. Yeah, so about that. Thanks for tuning in. If you enjoyed the story, be sure to follow or subscribe and share the show with a fellow horror fan. I'll see you in the next one.