𝗧𝗼𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗿𝗼𝘄'𝘀 𝗟𝗮𝘀𝘁 𝗕𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗵 | an apocalyptic novel ©

Chapter 58

Entries of the Past

2035

Valencia

I stare at the machine, still in shock at what is going on. This is impossible.

How?!

I am shaking. Henry notices it. "Vally? What's wrong?" he asks, concerned. I shake my head. Once, twice, then I turn to my little brother. He jumps off the bike and waddles to me. Then, he inspects the still brightly glowing green lamp.

"Please, let this be a dream..." I murmur, slightly frustrated.

Five years and this shit happens now?

I feel Henry's hand on my arm, squeezing it lightly. "What do you want?" I snap, sounding more annoyed than I had wanted to. Henry looks taken aback. "I just wanted you to know that we could read it ... " he apologizes.

Again, I was mean to him.

I crouch to look into his eyes. "I am sorry. It's just- this is very unexpected. I mean, we've waited for nearly nine years. Nothing has happened. And now-" I can't finish the sentence. But instead of being mad at me, Henry shoots me a hesitant smile.

Maybe Henry was right about what he said to me that night. I pull myself together and focus back on the machine.

Decrypt the message. That's what Henry meant.

We can decrypt it, yes. My fingers tremble, as I fumble around in a drawer to find the notebook that I keep track of all the possible Morse code combinations and weather anomalies in.

After flipping through a few pages, I find the list. I started collecting sentences - possible sentences that could be sent in such a message.

Hello - ...... -.. .-.. ---

SOS - ... --- ...

Help - ...... -.. .--.

Can you hear me - -.-. .--/-.-- --- ..-/...... - .-./-- .

I'm alive - .. .----. -- / .- .-.. .. ...- .

I am at.... - .. .----. -- / .- -

Find me - ..-. .. -. -.. / -- .

It's not much and it's hard to assume that everyone who might be alive has a Morse code machine, but it is all I could do. Telephone lines are down, no electricity flows through the city, light signals are impossible and I don't have any experience with other signal transfer options. We haven't had any signs of life, not any incoming signals within the last five years - since I put up the machine. I know, we aren't sure to be the last ones alive. We might be the last ones on this continent, maybe the last ones in the state, the last ones in this city or even the last ones in my neighborhood. We can't be sure. We aren't sure. But I'm trying my best.

I flatten the page of the possible codes with my hand and turn the wheel of the machine. Then, I motion for Henry to be quiet and to stop humming, and double-check the connection to the cables from the generator of the bike with the Morse code machine, just in case we run out of power. The machine lets the signal through. My insides freeze. I listen, concentrating so much that I can sense every muscle tensing up inside my body. Then, the signal appears. My heartbeat shoots sky-high almost immediately. I didn't know what I was expecting, but this is a whole coded message with periods and exclamation marks. I shuffle around in the drawer until my fingers find a pencil. I scribble the message down as it plays.

-- -.-- / -. .- -- . / .. ... / .- .. -.. .- -. .-.-.- / .-.. --- --- -.- / ..-. --- .-. / .- / -... ..- -. -.- . .-. .-.-.- / .- / .-.. .. -. . / --- ..-. / -... .-.. --- --- -.. / .-- .. .-.. .-.. / - . .-.. .-.. / -.-- --- ..- / - .... . / .-- .- -.-- .-.-.-