Kaywily -

KayWily looked out the grimy window. Two blocks north, a single candle flickered in a high-rise.

KayWily pressed the headphones tighter, ignoring the dust that puffed from the worn leather. Outside, the city was a graveyard of glass and concrete. Inside, a single green light pulsed on the transceiver.

The Last Frequency

S.O.S.

A pause. Then, through the hiss of a dying world: KayWily

“—anyone out there? This is not a drill. Repeat, this is not a drill.”

“I see your light.”

KayWily’s hand hovered over the transmitter key. Hope was a dangerous thing; it had a shelf life of about three seconds after you last ate. But the voice kept coming, naming coordinates that were only two blocks away.