Messages from the Beyond
The wind howled through the remnants of what once was a suburban neighborhood, now transformed into a battleground. Rusted cars lined the streets, their paint long worn and faded like memories of a life that had slipped through humanity’s fingers. Riley Collins pulled her jacket tighter around her shoulders, the fabric worn but comforting against the chill. The scent of damp earth and decay hung in the air, mixing with the faint aroma of burning wood coming from the group’s nearby camp.
“Riley, you really think we’ll find something out here?” Evan Brooks’ voice broke through her thoughts, rough and a little skeptical, but with that trademark edge of hope that she had come to rely on.
“We have to check,” Riley replied, her tone steadier than she felt. “Those signals could mean others are out there, friend or foe. We can’t ignore it.” She stepped over a fallen branch, the crunch of debris beneath her boots punctuating the silence that stretched between them. Flickering shadows from the campfire danced in the distance, a reminder that their base was close but also vulnerable.
Evan nodded, running a rough hand through his dark hair. “If we’re going in, we need to stay sharp. Victor won’t take kindly to rivals sniffing around his territory. We need a plan.”
“We’ll move quickly. Gather any intel and get out,” she replied, her pulse jumped in her throat with both anticipation and fear. It was always a delicate balance: one slip, one miscalculation, and they could lose everything.
The makeshift antenna they salvaged from the old radio tower crackled to life in her mind, igniting her innate curiosity. Pushing her way through a tangle of branches, she paused at the clearing they’d been drawn to — a jagged outcrop of rock that overlooked the valley below. The faintest glint of metal caught her eye, the remnants of communication equipment half-buried in the dirt.
“Over here!” Riley called out, excitement infusing her voice as she bent and pulled free the battered device. It was an old-style radio transmitter, the kind that had grown obsolete in the age of smartphones. But this one still had promise.
Evan moved to her side, peering over her shoulder. “It’s in rough shape,” he muttered, inspecting the wires fraying at their ends. “Think it can still work?”
“Maybe.” Riley sat back on her heels, wiping her dirt-covered hands on her jeans. “If we can harness enough power to get it going, we might catch more signals. But…,” her voice trailed off, and she frowned, aware of all the things they still didn’t know.
“What is it?” he asked, his green eyes searching hers.
“The last signals seemed… fragmented. They were warnings about Victor, about his reach, about the way he operates.” She swallowed hard. “I don’t want to bring any of that back to the camp until we know what we’re dealing with.”
Evan grunted in agreement. “Right, but we can’t let it linger, either. If there’s intel that could help us fight back….”
Riley focused on the worn device again. With steady hands, she twisted the knobs, fighting the rusted gears until a hissing sound filled the air. The noise transformed into garbled whispers, faint but persistent.
“…–take cover…–always watching…–don’t trust…”
“Did you hear that?” Riley's air stuck in her throat in her throat as clarity briefly broke through the static.
“What?” Evan maneuvered closer, his breath warm against the side of her neck.
“It’s a warning,” she insisted, fingers shaking as she adjusted the knobs further. “It’s fragmented, but it’s something. I think they’re talking about Victor."
Th
The horde was three miles out and closing fast. They had minutes, not hours.