Page 51 of The Catcher
“You know, I’ve passed this every day for the past year and never seen it,” Noah remarked.
“Who would?” McKenzie replied, his gaze scanning the booth’s unique features. Its Adirondack style, with a peaked roof and wooden siding, made it blend seamlessly with its surroundings, yet its presence was still unexpected.
Strangely, despite its apparent disuse, the phone booth still housed a phone, its wires dangling uselessly. It was a curious sight, a reminder of when pay phones were lifelines for communication in remote areas like the Adirondacks. Yet, even here, where modernity had taken over, the booth remained a silent witness to a changing world.
Noah took out his phone and used the geocaching app to look at the map. Then, he clicked on the icon to bring up the page with instructions on what to do.
McKenzie chimed in. “All it says is phone the number, but it doesn’t give us one, and even if it did, the phone isn't connected.”
Noah looked over the description again at the coordinates and the GC code page. He then stepped inside the booth and scanned the old relic of a phone. A weathered sticker provided some information.
For emergencies, dial 911. For refund or repair, dial *88. Local calls are 50 cents for 15 minutes; change is not provided. There are no incoming calls.
Then he saw a number that was always listed on every phone booth, along with the phone’s address at the bottom. Noah picked up the receiver. There was no dialtone. He tapped in the number listed below the phone handle and waited. Nothing happened.
He set the receiver down.
“Already tried that,” McKenzie said.
Ignoring McKenzie’s comment, Noah carefully examined the phone booth’s exterior, scanning the faded text for clues. A glimmer of hope sparked in his mind as he read through the instructions printed on the booth.
“There’s something here,” Noah said, pointing to a small slip of paper tucked behind a weathered piece of plexiglass. He pulled it out with cautious fingers, revealing a hidden number underneath.
The one behind the paper matched the one below with the address. That’s when he tried something. He dialed the number again, this time on his phone. Immediately, he was connected with an automated message. It was a riddle.
“In the year 2024, a mystery unfolds,
Two years prior, a life foretold.
At seventeen, they met their fate,
Now, tell me, friend, what was their birth date?”
“What did it say?” McKenzie asked.
Noah had to phone it again to get it to replay. “"Write this down," he said. As he read out the words, Porter scribbled in a small notebook.
“Well, that’s easy, it’s 2007,” Porter said.
“No,” Noah said. “It’s 2005. You need to account for the two years prior.”
Noah picked up the old phone receiver and tapped in 2005.
Click.
A mechanism unlatched a hidden compartment. McKenzie below the phone and pulled out a dusty box.
“Son of a gun!” Noah exclaimed, his curiosity piqued as they opened the box to reveal its contents: an old Walkman with tape inside. A sticker of ducks adorned the back of the Walkman, adding to the mystery.
Noah placed the Walkmans headphones on his head and pressed play.
A tape crackled to life, transporting him back in time with voices, laughter, and splashing water. A conversation unfolded, offering cryptic clues about a destination and the changing seasons.
A bell rang out.
“Bring in the kayaks,” someone could be heard saying in the distance.
Then it went quiet, and a young female voice asked someone, “It won’t be long before this is all frozen over. Where do you think they go?”
