Don't Get Dead | TWD | Volume 1

Prologue

Static screeched through the radio, the mangled noise making me jump out of my skin. It didn't sound right—the unsteady hum was followed by a high-pitched whine that shredded through my ears. The screen that usually showed the different channels flickered on and off, but the noise never stopped.

Is it the signal?

Reaching over to the coffee table, I gripped the device in my hands and held it above my head. I tried twisting one of the knobs to lessen the feedback, but the same sound continued. If anything, it got worse. The crackling itself was loud enough to be painful. I tapped the side of the radio, and the screen flashed on impact.

I didn't know how it worked; it wasn't mine. Dad found two of them in a kitchen drawer when hid from the sick people. He said that the house could have belonged to hikers, or maybe someone who worked in law enforcement—people that could have owned radios like this. I had to take his word for it.

He told me to turn it on at dusk if anything went wrong, but I didn't think I would actually have to use it. I didn't even want to press any of the buttons, knowing that I would mess something up. It would be just my luck.

Something rattled from inside the radio when I shook it. The pitch of the static changed, and a voice broke through the white noise. It was indecipherable at first, but my name was one of the words I recognised.

"Ace?"

I shot up and squeezed one of the buttons, dampening the feedback while I spoke. "Dad? I'm here."

"Okay, good," his relieved voice answered. There was a moment of gut-wrenching silence before he continued. "I don't think I'm going to make it back tonight."

Anxiety rose in my chest, the questions leaving before I could stop them. "Why? What happened?"

The noise kept cutting out, and the feedback wouldn't let any words through, but he was definitely speaking. I tapped the side of the device frantically, holding it closer to my ear. His voice barely broke through the static with each hit.

"Dad? I can't hear you. Did something happen?"

"—a lot of them—"

Did he mean the sick people?

I couldn't have pressed the button faster. "Are you okay? Did they bite you?"

"I'm fine. I hurt my leg pretty bad, though. I just have to hide here for now."

"Hide where? Where are you?" I tried pushing my frustrations with the device away, concentrating on listening for the answer. If he was too badly hurt, maybe I could've gotten a car and driven to wherever he was.

"I found—"

The radio cut off with a sharp snap. The screen turned off immediately, and all the noises stopped at once. My ears were still buzzing long after the room went silent.

The realisation hit like a punch to the gut, and I stared down at the device in my hands. Panic settled around me, and I frantically pressed the on-off button on the side of the radio.

Nothing happened.

"No! No, no, no!" I made a beeline for the kitchen. "This cannot be happening!"

I dropped the radio on the counter and yanked out the drawers searching for a screwdriver. We always had a small pack of tools in my house.

This was not my house.

Everything was different.

"Come on, come on," I repeatedly muttered to myself, shoving the contents of the drawer around with my hand.

I quickly gave up on my search and settled for the steak knife in the drying rack, using the pointed end of the blade to unscrew the radio shell. If something was broken, I knew that I had a good chance of fixing it.

Shit . . .

The circuit board was rusted over, and one of the wires came loose. You could tell it was old. I couldn't see how much damage the rust had caused, so I would need something to clear it away. There was a good chance that the pieces were unusable. If that was the case, I would have to replace all the different parts.

It would be easier to find a new walkie, but that wasn't an option. I didn't know how they worked, and not all radios can talk to each other. If I could get it working again, I would be able to speak to my dad.