Alone Again--Manda

 

There are probably worse ways to die. But not many.

Eddie had spent the last twelve years in isolation, and two before that

were spent running from undead, self-destructing monsters; disgusting

things with gaping wounds, a shambling gait, and spine-chilling groans

escaping their decomposing throats, freezing a person in their tracks with

pure terror. For a lot of people, the fear of the sound alone drove them to

insanity; for others, their bite got to them first.

For years a cure was being developed in some government facility–

unavailable to the public obviously– but the monsters overran the lab

before anything could be produced. After a couple days of fighting and

screaming, the best minds of our world were reduced to nothing but brain

dead corpses croaking and growling in hoards. Scientists were right with

one thing though– all expansion rates plateau. After about ten years, there

stopped being enough people to keep the undead rate growing, and not

enough food to sustain them. People, dead and alive, kept dying from

attacks or starvation or lack of medication until it all just stopped.

Around the ten years and eleven months mark, Eddie stopped

coming across people. Everywhere he went, an overbearing silence

seemed to prevail. No groaning, no yelling, no footsteps, no talking, no

anything. Nothing. No one. It seemed like Eddie was the last person on

Earth, with nowhere to go and no one to keep him sane.

Eddie had been stuck on this empty hope that the radio sitting in front

of him would miraculously start spitting out the key to getting off Earth. Any

given day, Eddie could be found sitting alone by the radio, messing with the

wiring and dials on it. Silence sits heavy, a familiar companion, occasionally

disrupted by the sounds of metal sliding against metal.

“There's…. there's no way this is going to work…is there?” He

muttered, the bend of his spine curling into the cradle in his lap holding his

little hope radio. Silence is his only response.

A bone chilling hopelessness began to seep into Eddie’s skin,

manifesting in goosebumps and a furrow in his brow. He could feel the

telltale burn of tears behind his eyes and frustration burned hotter in his

chest.

“I don't know why I'm even asking, not like anyones gonna answer.”

He grumbled, pushing the overflowing tears off his cheeks.

Losing his temper at the shame of feeling his wet cheeks and the

sting of his eyes, Eddie beat on the side of the device– spitting curses in

between sobs– and it came to life! Music immediately filters through, and

Eddie is left stunned before bursting into movement. Wiping his tears with

his sleeve, station after station is flipped through, all the dials are turned,

and every staticy channel is inspected.

“Please, one! Just one! I just need one station, one button, one

something to– god, just something!”

Months– months!– of tinkering is coming up blank, and Eddie has

begun to see red. Watery red, since his frustrated tears have turned into

distraught sobbing, and music is the only response.

“I've spent too much time alone on this stupid empty Earth!” He cried,

throwing his head back as he screwed his eyes shut.

Music persists.

Eddie loses patience. Throwing down the device, he stands as it

abruptly slams into a static channel. Static continues to blip through as he

gathers his supplies and storms out of the room, stopping in a frenzy at the

door. There is a moment of silence as Eddie looks back at the radio.

Scanning the buttons, he waits. And waits. And waits.

And nothing comes of it in the time he spends staring at the smooth

metal.

Screwing up his face, he turns away from his hope and spits on the

ground. Useless, useless, useless! Useless attempt and useless time

spent.

Eddie slams the door behind him, outraged and fighting back tears

once more. There is a beat of silence in the empty room that he’s left.

Then, there is a clicking sound, and a voice filters through.

It's coming from the radio, cutting through the static. Crystal clear.

“Hello? Hello? We’ve received an emergency signal– are there

personnel present?” There is a pause. Waiting. “Are there personnel

present?” The sound of a chair leaning back filters through, and the

professional sounding voice seems to have turned away from the

transmitter. “Signal unresponsive– assumed dead. No rescue needed.

Out.”