The first sign came on a cold, misty morning. Jack was out by the stream, mending one of their fishing nets, when he heard it: a faint, static-laden voice crackling over an old radio he had scavenged from the ruins of a nearby settlement. The radio had been dead for years, its circuits fried and its signal long since silenced. Yet now, it sputtered to life.
"…survivors… coordinates…"
Jack froze, his hands gripping the net tightly. The voice was faint, distorted by distance and interference, but it was unmistakably human.
He rushed back to the cabin, the radio clutched tightly in his hands. Julia was awake now, her dark hair tumbling over her shoulders as she sat by the fire, sipping a cup of tea. Her eyes widened when she saw his expression.
"Jack? What is it?" she asked, setting her cup down.
He held up the radio. "I think… someone's out there."
Her brow furrowed. "That's not possible. We searched for months after the Tet fell. There was no one."
Jack nodded, but his mind raced. "I know. But this signal… it's new. Someone's broadcasting."
They listened together as the static-filled voice repeated the message. It was faint, almost too garbled to understand, but they managed to make out fragments: "survivors," "help," and a series of numbers that Jack quickly jotted down.
Julia's hand found his. "What do you think it means?"
Jack's jaw tightened. "It means we're not alone."