Distress Signals Book Novels & Stories

replied the other bystander. “Probably a plane.” The other one guessed. Alpha Mark and his pack had just arrived in town and sensed the distress in the air. They glanced at each other. Alpha Mark furrowed his brows, “Send a distressed signal to the Headquarters,” he commanded via a mental link. "Tell them it's Code Black."

Send a signal to Sisilia Island and have Rachel come for us. Vincent nodded and raised his chubby little arm. He opened his smartwatch and sent their location to Sisilia Island. They had an emergency center on Sisilia Island. Whenever anyone faced danger, a distress signal would be sent, and help would always come. Vincent lowered his hand and made an "OK" gesture to Larissa. Larissa looked into the distance. "Let's go and see what's over there."

They were bloodshot and weeping, but they were focused entirely on her. "Did... did the paper burn?" he whispered. Meilin let out a sob that was half-laugh, half-cry. She pulled his head into her lap, her tears falling onto his scorched skin. "It's gone, Leo. We're both 'Unwanted' now. We're both nothing." "Good," he wheezed. "That’s... that’s a start." But as they sat in the silence of the ridge, a red flare ignited in the valley below. It wasn't a signal from the settlement. It was a Sovereign Distress Signal.

she explains, “the band should be able to connect with the ship and recharge, then I should be able to send a distress signal.” A signal. My heart blooms, suddenly bursting with hope. “Do you think it could be used to send a signal to my home as well?” I ask, praying the answer is yes. If her “ship” can receive messages, then shouldn’t my version of it do so as well? “I have people back at home who are worried about me too, only I don’t have a communicator.” “Of course, it can,” Oaestr’s grin is almost blinding, her white teeth and fangs bright in the strange green light of this planet. “You open the way, and I’ll let you send your message, right after I send mine.”

"Or does it mean we got allies we didn't know about?" She turned on the tracker's emergency thing. Hidden in it was a panic button. She pressed it. "What's that do?" Mara asked. "Send a distress signal. To whoever's tracking us. With our location." "You're gambling they'll help?" "I'm gambling whoever's watching us doesn't want Bishop to win either." Celeste sat down. "Now we wait." --- An hour went by. Then two. Nothing. "Maybe they're not coming," her brother said. "They'll come."

"If they start 'Volunteering,' the Syndicate wins without firing a single shot. They’ll turn the whole planet into a farm of 'Hollows.'" "We have to get to the 'Siphon,'" I said, looking up at the Ring of Ghosts. "Halloway, do you still have the 'Signal-Flare' we found in the shelter?" Halloway nodded, her face pale. "Yeah. But that flare is meant for the shuttle. It’s a 'Distress Beacon.' If we fire it, it’ll light up our position like a neon sign for the Moon." "Good," I said. "That’s exactly what I want."

My mother grabbed for the phone, her voice trembling. "He's not coming!" I spat, as the steel door shuddered from another blast. My fingers trembled, but I found the switch, activating the family’s deep-channel distress beacon. I couldn’t wait for Leo. Last time, his delay was a death sentence for her. My stomach churned. The estate was isolated, miles from backup, and a storm raged outside. BOOM! The panic room door groaned and buckled. I instinctively threw my weight against it, fear rising in my throat like bile.

The device glitches. Lights flicker. “System error.” “Good,” he mutters. “Again.” “No—wait—!” He hits the pressure point this time— harder— deeper— worse. Another scream tears out of me. My body convulses. The device pulses wildly. Unstable. “Signal disrupted.” “Do you feel that?” he asks sharply. “Yes—!” “Fight it!” “I am!” “No—you’re surviving. Fight it!” The words hit something deeper. Something stronger.

Hopeful, the word felt fragile on my tongue and as we pulled away from Amina’s building, my resonance brushed faintly against something distant that was sharp, cold and different. I frowned. “Failsafe,” I said quietly, “define secondary resonance characteristics.” “Pattern divergence atypical. Harmonic structure inverted relative to anchor signatures.” “Inverted?” Jamal repeated. “Yes.” I focused deeper and the distant signal was not chaotic like Amina’s had been. It was precise, contained and deliberate. And it was not seeking stabilization, it was probing and testing the membrane. Zara felt it too and her hand tightened on the seat. “That doesn’t feel like panic.”

I clutched the radio, etched with Orion’s stars, and plugged in the microchip, amplifying the distress signal to rally resistance fighters. Plot twist one: the radio wasn’t just a transmitter—it was a detonator, linked to my father’s final trap, a network of mines hidden in the cove’s walls, designed to end the Syndicate’s pursuit. The journal’s last note, hidden under Orion’s stars, revealed a code to arm them. I typed it into the radio, my fingers trembling, the mines humming, ready to detonate. But Voss fired, his missile streaking toward us, the explosion rocking the cove, waves crashing.