The radio signal was getting stronger, although the broadcast was no less strange. However the wafting voice would go on for another hour or two, he knew that. It was strange for it to continue on this long.

Some days he'd listen in to his old beaten radio and hear nothing but static, others he would here soft breathing, or even scratching and screeching over the dusty speaker. However there were even times like this that, late at night with nothing but a dim campfire for company when the moon wasn't even overhead that he'd listen in to see if there was something different.

It was those times he'd hear the person who's voice transfixed him. Gentle, intelligent tones, certainly someone who knew their way around a Shakespeare play or two. The voice would ramble to itself, unknowing of the listener growing closer and closer. Oh how he hoped to meet this person, to talk to them... he hadn't spoken to anyone in the rocky wasteland for months. Surely a human presence would be reassuring. Surely.

As he pushed over the stacks of furniture blocking the door to Radio Station Twenty One he wondered what this mysterious, wonderful voice belonged to. Maybe a dashing fellow, or a sly lady of sorts.

Busy imagining his new friend's looks, he didn't hear his radio erupt into static, gurgling and screeching as he pushed open the wide double doors.

Old Halloween Pic. 8V