The crackle of static on the radio intensified briefly, followed by a loud click, and then 30 seconds of silence before…


The empty room ignores the intrusion.  Not even a mote of dust pauses in acknowledgement.

“I’m, I’m so…sigh…It’s day 512, noon.  My name is Trent.  I’m based out of the abandoned Red Cross in downtown St. Louis, and…I’m…uh…”

The static lessens as if trying to hear what Trent isn’t saying.

“I need for you to exist.”

Emotion makes his words thick and causes enough feedback to register on the ancient ham radio at terrible odds with the quiet.

“I just need for someone to…to respond.  Please, just be there…just be there.  Don’t let me be alone any…jus…EXIST!”

The birds fall silent, dust shaken loose from the speaker drops in silky clumps, and a shadow darkens the fallen doorway.  Whoever it is pauses momentarily before moving on leaving Trent and the radio behind.  Light fills the doorway.  Terror fills Trent’s voice.

“Don’t let me be alone?”