Hey Randy, the caller answered in a low voice. Henry turned up the volume and Raven leaned in to hear.
What’s your name, caller and where are you calling from? Randy asked, sounding desperate and grateful.
My name is Dan and I’m calling from my home in Union City. I managed to lock myself in my basement when things went south.
There was silence on the airwaves and Raven was afraid they’d lost the signal. Then it came back with a squeal.
That’s too bad, Randy responded, clearly answering something they’d missed. She didn’t make it, huh? I’m sorry to hear that. How are you doing? He sounded sincere.
I’m okay, Dan answered, as well as can be expected anyways. His voice was palpably sad.
Do you have food and water? Randy asked.
I’m running low on food but so far water’s still flowing from my tap. I started bottling it up in anything I could find down here. Dan replied, voice shaking.
Dan, Randy spoke, stay on the line. I’ve got another caller.
He switched over with an audible click. This is Randy at JWTT radio, are you there caller?
There was the loudest blast of static yet and Raven recoiled, covering her ears.
“Jesus,” Henry said, turning the knob down again. “I miss my computer.”
“You didn’t bring that either, I take it?” Raven asked. She smiled thinly.
“Didn’t even think about it,” Henry responded.
“Oh, well. We probably wouldn’t have any internet out here anyways.” Raven sighed.
That’s not the worst part, a female caller intoned.
Henry turned the volume back up. “We must’ve missed something,” he said, pulling the radio closer to them.
What happened, Dorothy? Randy continued.
Dorothy hiccupped and sniffed. I had to kill my husband, she whispered, voice breaking.
Randy fell silent. His breathing was the only sound.
He was dead already, Dorothy continued. He’d been bitten on his way home and died of f-fever. There were these red lines on his skin that started at the wound and crept across his . . . his b-body. She broke down in tears, unable to continue.
“Those have to be related,” Raven said, spinning her empty coffee mug on the table.
“What?” Henry asked, looking at her. “What has to be related?”
“The red lines,” Raven answered, staring pensively at the sticky residue of coffee in her mug. She looked up at her brother. “We saw those on Undead Rob and the crazy zombie at the rest stop.
“Hmm,” Henry hummed. “I think I saw them on Sara as well.” It sounded like he had to force her name out. “I’m not sure though.”
Raven pursed her lips, wishing she could do something to ease his pain. The radio host caught her attention.
. . . a safe place to be? Randy asked. She only caught the tail end of his sentence.
“Listen,” Raven said, turning the volume up to max. Excitement burbled inside. She’d begun to lose hope that anyone else was alive in the last few weeks.
Yes, that’s right, I said a safe place. Another voice answered through the radio waves. This voice was different, more sure and confident. Raven guessed Dorothy had hung up or been disconnected.
Would you care to enlighten my listeners as to where exactly this place is? Randy questioned, unable to hide the tremor of excitement in his voice.
I can’t tell you exactly where, the voice continued. It was definitely a man’s voice there was no mistaking that. He paused for what Raven thought was dramatic effect. Her excitement and hope began to seep away.
“Oh,” Henry said, sounding discouraged. “He doesn’t know shit!” He swung his arm into the air, nearly knocking down the radio.
“Wait,” Raven said, leaning in to listen.
I will set a time and date to meet any survivors and lead them there. After I evaluate their potential, of course.
Their potential? Randy questioned. His voice was accompanied by a boinging sound effect that made Raven laugh out loud.
“Radio hosts,” Henry scoffed, frowning.
I won’t let just anyone into my camp, the voice continued. They have to be able to pull their own weight and I WILL have a doctor with me to evaluate their overall health. Anyone with a bite wound or a high fever will be killed on site.
That sounds a little severe, Randy answered.
The world has changed, the man answered.
A sound filled the airwaves, like a quiet hissing.
“Did we lose the connection?” Raven asked, leaning forward and tapping the top of the radio.
“Don’t hit it,” Henry said, slapping her hand playfully.
She gasped in mock offence. “See if you get any dinner from now on,” Raven said, smiling and rubbing her hand.
What’s your name stranger, Randy spoke through a peal of static.
You can call me President Angler, the voice responded with a hint of manic pride.
Randy laughed out loud. I’m sorry, he said to the stunned silence on the radio. That just sounds a little presumptuous, Angler. Randy softened his tone.
President Angler, he corrected.
Randy didn’t laugh that time. Perhaps he wanted to ensure that Angler would stay on the line. If there was any chance that this man was offering actual safety, people should know about it. Tyrants could always be overthrown.
Where, Mr. President, and when will you meet any survivors that want to join your group? Randy’s voice sounded eager and a little afraid.
I will have two meeting points and times. The first one will be at Junction 5 and Heath Road in two weeks’ time. That’s December 1st for all of you out there who have lost track of the date. The second meet will be on December 20th where Highway 7 dead-ends into Raccoon Road.
Where are those places for our listeners out there that don’t know? Randy asked, regaining his radio voice.
The first is twenty
