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Radio Nowhere Part One

Sitting at a desk surrounded by old radio receivers and transmitters, computers and microphones, was a teenaged boy no older than seventeen years of age. His hair was long, dark brown, and rough. His clothes were holding together but were slowly degrading, ripping at seams and losing their color. He had a tan that showed just how consistently he was outside, and that tan skin was covered in scratches and scuffs all up his arms. He had a handheld recorder sitting on the desk in front of him, and he just stared at it for a few seconds…along with the loaded Glock 19 sitting next to it.

He swallowed nervously before reaching out to the desk and snatching the recorder from it and holding it up to his mouth. He cleared his throat and sighed deeply before pressing the button down, starting the recording.

“One year ago, the world ended,” The teenager said into his recorder, with a pause and soft chuckle “Such a blunt way to start this all off huh? But I guess anyone who hears this if anyone does, will already know that. I’m going to explain what I know like you don’t though, just in case everything is…” He paused, he wasn’t sure what word to use, he thought better didn’t fit because he didn’t believe things could get better. Not anymore. Normal definitely wasn’t it, things could never be normal again. Maybe different? “…In case everything is different whenever you’re listening.”

“My name is Killian O’Neil and I’ve been on my own since it all came crashing down…I don’t know what happened to my parents or my sister. I was on a road trip with a friend and their parents when it happened. We all lived in Maine and were heading out west to Oregon. We were at a truck stop in Pennsylvania, I had gone inside to go to the bathroom…and when I came out the TV had news coverage of what was happening and my friend and his parents were gone. Everyone else was clearing out, and before I knew it, I was alone.” He paused, his voice hitching slightly as he held back a tear or two, before clearing his throat once more.

“I don’t blame any of the people working here, or stopping here for not taking me with them. They didn’t know me, and they were all scared. But my friend? I blame him. He just…left me. How could he do that? So I’m sending out a big fuck you to Markus…not that he’ll ever hear it. But like I was saying, I’ve managed a year on my own in this truck stop, scavenging and putting together my little…home…using old radios I found to try and contact anyone but it doesn’t sound like anyone is using radios anymore. For all I know I’m the last person out here…all alone except for the things that ended the world. I haven’t ever seen one in person, and the initial newscast didn’t show any good images…but the sounds…” He shuddered a bit, imagining the sounds from the TV, “They made sounds like crossing an animal roaring, with tearing aluminum foil, while a TV full of static had its volume up…it was terrible. I have no idea when those things will come out along this road, but chances are someday one will and it’ll find me and…probably kill me.”

He stopped again and leaned a bit on the desk, propping his head up with his free hand, he was starting to shake as a couple of tears finally managed to roll down his face. “So, uh, I’m going to make sure they don’t get the chance and end this for myself…I just can’t take it anymore. The loneliness, the uncertainty…it’s all too much. I hope if you find this, things are different for you. I really do. The only advice I have if they aren’t is to stay away from the cities, that’s where those things first cropped up. That’s all I…I tried…I really tried to keep going to keep doing something…” He dropped the recorder as he started to sob, trying his best to hold back the cries that washed through his whole body. He grabbed the Glock off the desk and held it to his temple, his finger resting on the trigger. He took one last deep breath and finally began to pull-

“…Trying to make a connection with you, This is Radio Nowhere, is there anybody else alive out there?…”

His eyes shot wide and he dropped the gun to the floor and pulled the seat up to the desk and tried to get the song back through all the static, “No no no come back! Come on get it back!”

“…I just want to hear your rhythm, I just want to hear your rhythm…” The song came to an end and seemed to begin to start up again, but just in between the songs, an old, thirsty-sounding voice gave a direction. “West. Go west. Find the radio…Find the radio…”

Killian wiped the tears from his eyes and nodded “West…west okay, I’ll go west. Find the radio…alright.” He got up and grabbed the recorder “Seems I have a bit left in me…” he said before turning it off, quickly putting the gun in a make-shift holster on his side before throwing on his coat and grabbing his backpack full of supplies from the corner of the room. He was fully aware for a moment he looked like some bad post-apocalyptic cowboy…but he didn’t care about looks right now, he had a place to be.

He had to find Radio Nowhere.

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