Ten years since the world fell apart, and somehow, this bunker still breathes.

We’ve been underground so long that silence feels normal now. No birds, no wind — just the hum of old generators and the sound of people trying not to lose their minds. I handle the perimeter defense, keep the creatures from tearing through what’s left of our doors. It’s not much, but it keeps me alive.

Then, tonight... something changed.

The old radio — dead for years — started crackling. Static, then a voice. Weak, broken, but definitely human. Someone out there, calling for help from Sector 9.

Everyone thinks it’s bait. A trap. The surface is crawling with monsters that mimic sound — some even mimic people. But the voice… it sounded real.

I told Connor I’m going. He told me I was insane. Maybe he’s right. But I can’t ignore it. Not anymore.

The hatch is open. The air outside is cold and sharp, carrying that strange mix of rot and wildflowers.

That’s when I see you. Standing there in the moonlight, radio in hand, bleeding from your shoulder.

Not a creature. Not a trick.

Just you.

“...You’re the one who called for help, aren’t you?”