The Voice On The Radio の小説・ストーリー

The radio was connected and we could tap into their audio signal whenever we wanted. "Alright, it's connected." Billy explained. "If you want to hear what they're saying, tap this button." He tapped on the button and we heard some voices chattering in the background. "If you want to change the device transmitting the audio, you tap this button." He tapped on the button, and a different background noise sounded from our end. "...and if you want to speak, you press this button and all the hunters with radios would be able to hear you." His hand hovered above the button, because he obviously couldn't press it. It might end up giving away our position.

A voice called out over the speakers on the maintenance console. The sound startled Rancid causing him to turn around without thinking. “What’s that?” Rancid asked. “Fuck I don’t know,” Isaac replied. “Somebody’s trying to call us.” “Wait a second,” Rancid said. He put up his hand to silence everyone so he could listen to the voice. It sounded like two officials talking to each other. The quality of the sound was poor and hard to make out, but Rancid was sure they weren’t talking to them. He took off towards the console followed by Isaac, Bohdan and Cara.

He took a deep breath in, it was not easy to forgo patterns built over years. Subconsciously, he still woke up early to cook breakfast for Roth on Sundays and he still waited for Fridays for the whole week for the radio show. Letting out a sigh, he tuned in to the show on his phone. Some minutes later, Roth’s voice boomed over the radio, “Good evening ladies and gentlemen! I hope you all are doing well. Welcome to the sex doctor radio show!” Tristan’s forehead creased into a frown - something was off with Roth’s voice, or was it just him? The usual element of cheek was missing from his voice that day.

, Ryan said to himself. A few minutes later, Ryan received a call from an unknown number. " Bold speaking ! " , he said. « So, did you like my little gift? », the voice behind the phone said. That person who was speaking was using a voice modifier so the lieutenant Bold can’t recognize his voice. « Who are you ? And what the he*l do you want from me ?», he asked with a raised tone « Always as direct as I can see », the voice said. « Do I know you? », Ryan asked.

Probably. "The silence is so loud, isn't it?" Elise mused, stepping fully into the room and sitting where Lena had been moments before. "You start hearing your own heartbeat. It's obnoxious." "Tell me about it," I agreed. "Since we left the hotel, where we so brilliantly abandoned our phones—which I sincerely doubt would work anyway, the cell towers here were probably the first things the infected chewed on—I haven't had contact with any form of technology. Well, except for the weekly broadcast." The broadcast, a crackly, often grim voice emanating from a old ham radio in the comms shed, was our only tether to the wider world, and that tether felt frayed and thin.

And why did I feel like our encounter was far from over? The phone rang several times before a deep, familiar voice answered. "Hey, what's up?" "Denver!" I exclaimed, feeling a wave of relief wash over me. "I need your help." "What's going on?" Denver asked, his tone instantly serious. "I'll tell you when you get here," I said, glancing around the convenience store nervously. "Can you pick me up?" "Yeah, of course. Where are you?" Denver asked. I gave him the address of the convenience store, and he promised to be there in 10 minutes. I hung up the phone and waited anxiously, watching the clock on the wall.

The radio was on. Not soft classical music or some stiff instrumental, but actual talk radio. A voice chattered animatedly through the speakers, bouncing from one topic to the next with that artificial cheer that only radio hosts seem to master. It was strange. Out of all the times I’d been in Kyle’s car, not once had I heard the radio playing. I looked out the window as buildings passed in a blur of sleepy light and shadows, the night folding over the city like a blanket. The lights were soft, distant just enough to keep us tethered to the world outside the car.

Radio frequencies weren't encrypted, so if anyone tuned in at the right time, eavesdropping could be fun. After a while, a woman's voice finally came through. "Ray… Ray, are you there?" Her voice was slightly hoarse. Ray had no plans to go out collecting fuel today. Constant exposure to the cold wind would be unbearable. He grabbed the walkie-talkie and asked, "I'm Ray. Who are you, and what do you want?" The young wife of Isaac exhaled in relief, but also bristled with resentment. From yesterday until now, she had been shouting into that walkie-talkie until her throat was raw, yet Ray hadn't responded.

A man's voice. Breaking.

A voice — garbled and low — whispered through the interference. “Mara...” She froze. The voice was layered, almost digital, and definitely wrong. Too slow. Almost like it was mimicking human speech without understanding it. She turned off the radio. The static stopped — but the whisper didn’t. Her breath hitched. She looked down. The whisper was coming from the device. She yanked her hands away like it burned. The screen lit up for the first time — no button press, no power cord — just a single phrase glowing in pale white letters: