27 Feb Highway to Hell

Posted at 11:00h in Strange and Unexplained by CreepypastaStories.com 0 Comments

📅 Published on February 27, 2022

“Highway to Hell”

Written by Garry Richards
Edited by Craig Groshek
Thumbnail Art by Craig Groshek
Narrated by N/A

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🎧 Available Audio Adaptations: None Available

⏰ ESTIMATED READING TIME — 7 minutes

Rating: 9.00/10. From 3 votes.

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“It’s 11:05 and you’re listening to WSAH 101.1 FM, Whittenberg’s classic rock for the discerning listener. And since it’s after 11, the powers that be say, we’re allowed to take requests. Soooo, if you’re so inclined give me a call at 221-867-9724…”

* * * * * *

Day one on the job, and the beginning of my radio career…and my personal hell. A little backstory might be helpful here.

Late night radio is not the most exciting broadcasting gig, but when you’re just starting out, and you’re in Whittenberg, Wyoming…well, let’s just say you make the best of it. On one hand, I was at least working at a station that played what I liked. Classic 60s and 70s rock.

The money was crap and I was situated in the middle of nowhere working the graveyard shift. At least I didn’t have to endure music I hated. Baby steps to a better career.

* * * * * *

No sooner had I said it was the beginning of requests…the phone rings. At least I’ll have someone to talk to at least once this shift.

“WSAH…Whittenberg’s Classic Rock. What can I help you with?” I said with as much cheer as I could muster at 11:02 PM. And there was nothing on the other end of the line.

“WSAH…can I help? Is there anyone there?” Again, dead air. If you’ve ever worked in radio, dead air is just about the absolute worst thing you can encounter. Long-time jocks got nightmares about dead air.

By now, I was just about to hang up but mumbled to myself, “I guess it’s a bad phone line…” And as I did, someone spoke up on the other end.

In a voice that scared the utter crap out of me, the guy says, “You the new guy, huh?” A bit startled, I replied, “Yeah, Johnny Rocket. Would you like to make a request? I missed your name…”

In a cold menacing manner, he replied, “I didn’t say.” If you think this was giving me the creeps, that would be an understatement.

“Okay,” I replied. “Do you have a song in mind?”

Another few seconds went by, and I was starting to get nervous. What the hell was with this guy. Then he piped up, “Yeah…Highway to Hell, by AC/DC.”

“Ah, good choice. I like me some AC/DC myself. Anyone you’d like to dedicate it to?”

“Yeah…you can dedicate it to yourself.” And then he hung up.

* * * * * *

After composing myself, I put on the AC/DC request and grabbed myself a coffee. At this point, it would have been a LOT more calming if I had a shot or two of scotch or something similar to help me get through the night.

The rest of the shift was uneventful, without anyone else calling in. So at 5 AM, my first night at WSAH was done with. As I packed up, I saw the morning crew come in. I mentioned to them, the creepy phone request I got right off the top of my shift.

When I did so, Bob and Jan, the Morning Crew, exchanged a “look” between themselves. And to be honest, they looked a bit confused.

Bob asked me, “What number did you give out for the phone request?” I replied cautiously, “221-867-9724. That’s the request line for after 11 PM, right?”

Jan looked at me with a smile and said, “Johnny, we don’t have a request line, and that number doesn’t exist. Management must have been pulling your leg with the request line after the 11 PM deal.”

At this point, I was getting really confused. “Are you serious? Because I can tell you in less than a minute after I said to call in for requests, I got a call.” And with that, they both shrugged their shoulders and went into the booth for their shift.

I’d like to say, things got better from then on. But I’d be lying if I said that.

* * * * * *

The next night, I settled in, said the, how do you do’s on-air … and in less than a minute the phone rings. When it did, I dropped my coffee onto the floor. What’s going on? I didn’t mention anything about the request line, but for the second night in a row, I got a phone call on a supposedly non-existent phone line.

I let it ring, afraid to answer. But it kept ringing for what seemed like forever before I cautiously answered. “WSAH. How can I help you?”

At the other end of the line, it was silent again…then he answered. Same guy as my first night. “Johnny boy, you’re starting to piss me off taking so long to answer the phone. Don’t let it happen again.”

“Who are you? And how did you get this number?” I answered. After a couple of seconds of silence, he answered, “It doesn’t matter who I am. And you gave me the number on the air, remember.? So, in the future, if you know what’s good for you, answer the damn phone when I call.”

As he spoke, I started to get the feeling I was the object of a very sick and scary stalker. I replied, “But this number doesn’t exist! This phone line doesn’t exist!”

And in a smug manner, he replied, “And yet…here we are, Johnny. Be a good boy, and play Highway to Hell for me.” And then he hung up.

* * * * * *

The rest of the night went by without incident. No more phone calls, but I was creeped out as I’ve never been in my life. I’m trying to figure out if this is an initiation thing on the new guy, or if this is seriously real. I decide to go to the station manager, Rick Ray, when my shift is over to get some kind of clarification on things. If it’s not an initiation thing, I don’t know what I’m going to do.

* * * * * *

The shift ends, mercifully, and the morning crew shows up to take over. They see I’m out of sorts. Bob asks, “Hey man, you OK? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

I slowly turn to look at him and then reply, “No, I haven’t seen a ghost, but I heard one again last night.”

Jan looks at me, then asks “Did you get another phone call?” I look at her, and without saying anything she knows the answer. “That’s not possible…the damn phone line doesn’t exist.”

I’m now feeling really pissed off, and tell her, “Well, let Mr. AC/DC know that, so he can stop calling, will you? If this is a prank by you guys, I’m really going to be pissed.” And with that, I walked out of the booth and went directly to Rick Ray’s office and waited for the station manager to arrive for the day.

* * * * * *

After a couple of hours of sleeping on the lobby couch, Rick Ray shows up. He says hi, as he walks by me, waking me up. “How are the overnights going? Must be pretty boring I’d imagine.”

And with that, I reply, “I need to talk to you about that. Can I talk with you in your office?”

Ray replies, “Look you’ve only been here a couple of days. Too soon to ask for a raise. You know nights aren’t the gravy train.”

More than a bit perturbed, I reply, “It’s not about that. It’s about something a little more serious than that.”

Ray, looks at me and waves me into his office. “Okay…so what’s the crisis you’ve got going on that requires my attention?”

And begin to fill him in on Mr. Highway to Hell, and his nightly call, and what I’ve been told is a non-existent phone line, with a non-existent phone number. And demand to know if this is a station prank on the new guy or something else entirely.

Ray, sits there, sizing me up. Then he speaks. “Johnny, there is no request line installed to the booth, and to my knowledge that phone number isn’t a working number either. How the hell you are getting a call each night is beyond me. This isn’t a prank on you. However, I have to tell you, no one else has ever had this problem before.”

“But my first night, there was a copy in the booth to mention the request line for after 11 PM and the phone number. I gave it out on-air and a minute later I get this call. And the guy scares the bloody crap out of me. And it happened again last night, even though I didn’t give out the number. Same caller.”

Ray sits there, thinking about how to reply. Eventually, he says, “I’ll get engineering to look into it today. But I can guarantee you there is no working line and no number.”

With that, the meeting ends, and I leave Ray’s office and head home for the day, not feeling any better about things. With two days behind me at my first radio gig, I am contemplating quitting and heading for another station and starting over again.

* * * * * *

On my drive home, I turn on WSAH on my car radio and listen to the morning show with Bob and Jan. They’re a pretty good morning crew, and I’m enjoying the show when, out of the blue, Bob pipes up and says, “Just got a text in on the text line from an overnight listener who says he’d like to dedicate the next song to our new overnight guy…Johnny Rocket. If you’re listening Johnny, this one’s for you…AC/DC and Highway to Hell.”

I almost drove off the road. I’m now officially terrified. And made the decision to not to return to WSAH. And I just kept driving out of town and hopefully to some sense of sanity.

* * * * * *

The further away from Whittenberg Wyoming, I got the better I felt. My nerves were finally starting to settle down after about 15 hours of driving. How’s the old saying go? Happiness is seeing Whittenberg in your rearview mirror.

It was right then, my cell phone rang. I was expecting it to be someone from the station wondering where the hell I was since I wasn’t there for my shift. I grab the phone and then notice the number on the phone. It was from…

221-867-9724.

How is that possible? What the hell should I do? After a few seconds, I decide to answer the call. When I do, there’s silence for a few seconds…and then the voice that will hound me for the rest of my life.

“Johnny boy…you didn’t think you’d get rid of me that easy did you? No way. Now, be a good boy…and play me Highway to Hell by AC/DC.”