𝗧𝗼𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗿𝗼𝘄'𝘀 𝗟𝗮𝘀𝘁 𝗕𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗵 | an apocalyptic novel ©

Chapter 63

Life Signs

2035

Aidan

Earlier...

It's early morning when I squint my eyes. I just woke up, finding myself laying on my mattress with my book propped somewhat on my face to prevent my eyes from being blinded by the sunlight trickling through the small window of my bunker.

Instantly, the memories of yesterday come rushing back. I sat through my birthday and went to the underground bunker to look for stock.

The Morse code machine has been quiet and offline for a bit of time, but yesterday, the green lamp glowed.

Not for the first time, to be exact. I received two messages in Morse code signals within three weeks, having just plugged in and repaired the machine before. And then, the signals came through.

I still remember every note of the two.

.-- . / .-.. .. ...- . / .. -. / - .... . / -... .-. --- -. -..- .-.-.- / .-.. --- --- -.- / ..-. --- .-. / ..- ... --..-- / .- ... / .-- . / .- .-. . / .-.. --- --- -.- .. -. --. / ..-. --- .-. / -.-- --- ..- .-.-.-

-- -.-- / -. .- -- . / .. ... / .... . -. .-. -.-- .-.-.- / .-- . / .-.. .. ...- . / .. -. / - .... . / -... .-. --- -. -..- .-.-.- / .-.. --- --- -.- / ..-. --- .-. / ..- ... .-.-.-

Decrypting the signals wasn't a struggle, I did that back in the base, thanks to Miss Kath, the grumpy hag in recruitment basics.

WE LIVE IN THE BRONX. LOOK FOR US, AS WE ARE LOOKING FOR YOU.

MY NAME IS HENRY. WE LIVE IN THE BRONX. LOOK FOR US.

WE, US.

This suggests that there is more than just one person. More than just one survivor?

They live in my neighborhood. Otherwise, I wouldn't have gotten the signal in the first place. And they are actively looking for me, too. I sent them a message back - too late, I suppose. I could have done it earlier.

-- -.-- / -. .- -- . / .. ... / .- .. -.. .- -. .-.-.- / .-.. --- --- -.- / ..-. --- .-. / .- / -... ..- -. -.- . .-. .-.-.- / .- / .-.. .. -. . / --- ..-. / -... .-.. --- --- -.. / .-- .. .-.. .-.. / - . .-.. .-.. / -.-- --- ..- / - .... . / .-- .- -.-- .-.-.-

MY NAME IS AIDAN. LOOK FOR A BUNKER. A LINE OF BLOOD WILL TELL YOU THE WAY.

Who this person - these people - are, I have no idea. It could be strangers, survivors from the base after it got flooded two years ago, or maybe even Sina or Suraya.

I just hope that whoever it is receives it.

A LINE OF BLOOD WILL TELL YOU THE WAY

I got injured two days ago after pulling yet another ill-considered stunt. Quite badly. I thought I would die.

The pain jolting through my body and the look at the fresh stitches on my bare stomach don't need to remind me of that as I scoot out of bed.

It happened two days ago when I was outside, looking for supplies. I ran low on medicine but I know a pharmacy near the grocery store Grey's Groceries in downtown Bronx, one where I always went. I realized that there were other people besides me alive, too, when I saw more and more medicine missing from the shelves every time I returned there.

Perhaps strangers, maybe recruits.

How no one came looking for me is still odd to think about.

Given these odds, it was just a matter of days, weeks, or years until I would receive a message.