Kaywily

The voice was young, terrified, and impossibly clear.

“I see your light.”

For the first time in a decade, someone smiled. — A piece by KayWily. KayWily

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. The voice was young, terrified, and impossibly clear

A pause. Then, through the hiss of a dying world: The voice was young

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.