Quoted By:
your radio whines and squeals through throws of static as faint rumbles sound outside from above.
“Come in? Come in? Seeking ground contact.”
A man’s voice scrambles through the radio, calling into the main room of your bunker.
Your wife, cracking open canned provisions, urges you to answer, believing the transmission to be from the government. If there’s even one left.
Outside the blood trails stagnate in the beating dead sun, and your neighbor’s ruined house has its doors cracked open from its hinges.
As your wife awaits your response for this radio debacle, the water from the sink she’s affixed in front of slowly stops pouring, going from a torrent of clean water to a scarce drip as the pipes groan. She makes it immediately known that there’s an issue.
>Check on your kids
>Answer the radio
>Check on the water
>Go outside [NO PROTECTION]
>Write in
