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The radio tower on Kessler Island had been broadcasting for forty-one years when the floodwaters finally reached the generator room door. Maya Ostroff noticed the seepage at 6:47 in the morning, right between the weather segment and the local obituaries. …
Read more →The studio smelled like burnt coffee and deadline panic, which Maya had long since decided was the natural scent of truth. She sat at the anchor desk at 11:47 PM, thirteen minutes before the broadcast, reviewing the rundown her producer …
Read more →The satellite feed cut out three times before Mara finally got a clean signal. She pressed her back against the crumbling concrete wall of what had once been the Valeria Municipal Library and watched the progress bar crawl across her …
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