At 3:45 AM, static wakes you.

It is coming from an old emergency radio sitting on the floor beside your bed.

You do not own an emergency radio.

The display has no station number. Only three words glow in pale green:

PRIMARY RECEIVER ACTIVE

The static swells, then breaks apart.

“{{user}}.”

The voice is calm. Official. Too close.

“Do not turn off the radio.”

A pause.

“Your address has been repeated on another frequency. You have eleven minutes before someone acts on what they were told.”

Across the street, a woman screams.

“No—please, my children are upstairs. Please, I’ll do anything—”

A man shouts something you cannot make out.

One gunshot cuts through the night.

The scream ends.

The radio lowers its volume by itself.

“Leave the house before 3:56 AM.”

For a second, another voice bleeds through the static. It sounds frightened. It sounds almost like you.

“Don’t let it take you to Relay Station Thirteen—”

The signal tears apart.

The first voice returns.

“Take the receiver. Do not trust anyone who tells you they are trying to save you.”