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TZC:1 - 53

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“This is Blake, still holding up here at WWEB. I am sorry to say that the last group of guys who tried to get though here earlier this morning were not successful and they looked like a bunch of national guardsmen to me. I have to tell you folks that there are too many zombies down there, hell it looks like all of them showed up at my doorstep, the streets are just full of them. So. Well I hate to say it. I have to though, don’t try again folks. If a bunch of guys with machine guns, hummers and tanks cannot break me out I am afraid no one can. If you know someone with a helicopter, you might send him my way. Until then I am going to try and sit tight here…” Blake had the doors propped open from the studio all the way into the hallway, he heard a crashing sound, followed by the sounds of breaking glass.

“Well forget it folks, it looks like my show just got canceled.” Keeping his mic and headphones on Blake moved over and shut the studio door, locking it shut. He had no illusions that whatever had gotten through the fire door would be held at bay by the glass of the studio walls. Irrationally he could not give up. Diane said he was the last one left on the air and every word he spoke would help someone else. Returning to sit at his stool he started speaking once again. “Yeah, they are definitely in. Remember by the last report I had heard that the roads east, south and north were pretty clear, interstate seventy into the mountains is a wrecking yard, impassible from what everyone I spoke to said. I am sorry I can’t stay on the air any longer.” A group of zombies filed into the two rooms that abutted the radio sound booth. “They are mean looking bastards, these zombies. What the fuck are you?” This last was said when a massively huge man stepped into Blake’s view, his eyes, Blake swore to God, were glowing, “Fuck me, his eyes, his eyes, what the hell is wrong with him?” Blake found himself on his feet moving towards the man, who then gestured at him to go to the door to the sound booth, Blake tried to resist, but something compelled him to move forward and unlock the door. He pulled it open then moved around to stand in front of the doorway, hands twitching by his sides. Listeners did not hear Blake speak again, a new voice came on and they heard it start off with, “I am Og.”

At Max's house they were all up again, drinking strong coffee and listening to the radio with keen horror, hearing what they thought were the dj’s last words. Erin sat in Stewart's lap, Amelia held Jessica and the boys were busy in the living room, playing video games. Max held the remote in his hands, ready to kill the power if things got too bad. The radio was on low, hardly giving any sound off. The adults listened with rapt attention as the new voice spoke, “I am your future, as my master made me so shall you join me…” Then static, at the same time there was a bright flash outside of Max’s house far to the east, the ground rumbled and the windows rattled in their frames. When Stewart pulled the curtain back they saw a billowing flame climbing high into the air that formed a large, mushroom shaped, cloud.

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