side of the road. His place was off, and out of force of habit he tried realigning his position when the sheer stupidity of what he was doing finally came to him. Linus palmed his face.
He left the truck crooked as it was, and searched the street for any sign of infected. So far as he could tell, it was safe. Nothing around him had any desire to leap at his face. He figured from what was around him (or at least more accurately what wasn’t around) that the place was safe enough.
The KTLU logo situated atop the building confirmed Linus’ belief that he was in the right place. The front door was locked, but the double doors each had a window on either side. Linus found a potted plant down the front steps. He heaved hard, and at the sound of smashing glass, the lock fell within reach.
A Hall of Fame guitar hung directly overhead the front desk as the mantel piece of the station, and a spectacle to any guests making their way inside.
Closer inspection revealed that the guitar belonged to and was signed by none other than Alice Cooper himself. It was encased in glass, and had a photograph of Alice on stage playing with the very same guitar. Although the one on the picture didn’t have his signature.
Linus remembered listening to KTLU once upon a time. Casually. Back when they played classic hard rock instead of modern alternatives. Before KTLU 99.3 became a station exclusively dedicated to a suburban rock culture he couldn’t bring himself to respect. He tuned out of the station from that point on, but he had friends that still kept their ears tuned. And an old friend of his told him that he’d met Erin Keller, one of the station’s most prominent hosts, in a benefit event that he was catering. He said she sounded better than she looked. Linus didn’t know enough to judge. All he could vaguely remember about her from all the billboards was that she was a blonde.
But then again, what California girl wasn’t?
The station was dark, but it was late enough in the afternoon that finding his way wasn’t an issue. Framed posters of radio personalities and their staff lined the studio walls, their portraits smiling wide at Linus as he passed through each corner. Linus tried not to think too long and hard about what might have happened to them since the infection. Their eerie presence alone was enough to shake his veins.
There were six recording booths in the station, each with equipment more expensive and complex than Linus had ever seen. As a man whose only experience with broadcasting equipment came from when he used to be a boy scout, Linus had no idea what it was he was looking at. The console had more buttons and slides than Linus could visually count. He may have been a little more tech-savvy than the average chef, but operating a ham radio was one thing. The switchboard contraption standing before him was altogether something else. To say nothing of the machine’s table sized length, it was definitely not going to run on the portable power generator he’d been using to operate his ten pound ham radio.
“ Fuck.”
12:28 PM
I arrived at the KTLU radio station about, say three hours ago. I haven’t been able to figure out what to do, so I’ve been sitting on my ass inside this cheap cafeteria of theirs. You’d think a place like this would have better vending machines. Other than cheap candy bars, there isn’t much left that’s edible in here but some oatmeal on the shelf. I packed some food with me, but I’ve got no mind to double back and get them.
No. Candy bars will have to do for now. I have to get started on the radio. I’ve never seen half this stuff before let alone operated one. Jesus Christ I’ve got a hell of a learning curve ahead of me.
12:43 PM
Before the infection, I remembered there was construction work going on at Mission Street. It was on the same day. Same hour, same time. Guys in hard hats were going in and out of the sewers. They were doing something. I don’t know
He left the truck crooked as it was, and searched the street for any sign of infected. So far as he could tell, it was safe. Nothing around him had any desire to leap at his face. He figured from what was around him (or at least more accurately what wasn’t around) that the place was safe enough.
The KTLU logo situated atop the building confirmed Linus’ belief that he was in the right place. The front door was locked, but the double doors each had a window on either side. Linus found a potted plant down the front steps. He heaved hard, and at the sound of smashing glass, the lock fell within reach.
A Hall of Fame guitar hung directly overhead the front desk as the mantel piece of the station, and a spectacle to any guests making their way inside.
Closer inspection revealed that the guitar belonged to and was signed by none other than Alice Cooper himself. It was encased in glass, and had a photograph of Alice on stage playing with the very same guitar. Although the one on the picture didn’t have his signature.
Linus remembered listening to KTLU once upon a time. Casually. Back when they played classic hard rock instead of modern alternatives. Before KTLU 99.3 became a station exclusively dedicated to a suburban rock culture he couldn’t bring himself to respect. He tuned out of the station from that point on, but he had friends that still kept their ears tuned. And an old friend of his told him that he’d met Erin Keller, one of the station’s most prominent hosts, in a benefit event that he was catering. He said she sounded better than she looked. Linus didn’t know enough to judge. All he could vaguely remember about her from all the billboards was that she was a blonde.
But then again, what California girl wasn’t?
The station was dark, but it was late enough in the afternoon that finding his way wasn’t an issue. Framed posters of radio personalities and their staff lined the studio walls, their portraits smiling wide at Linus as he passed through each corner. Linus tried not to think too long and hard about what might have happened to them since the infection. Their eerie presence alone was enough to shake his veins.
There were six recording booths in the station, each with equipment more expensive and complex than Linus had ever seen. As a man whose only experience with broadcasting equipment came from when he used to be a boy scout, Linus had no idea what it was he was looking at. The console had more buttons and slides than Linus could visually count. He may have been a little more tech-savvy than the average chef, but operating a ham radio was one thing. The switchboard contraption standing before him was altogether something else. To say nothing of the machine’s table sized length, it was definitely not going to run on the portable power generator he’d been using to operate his ten pound ham radio.
“ Fuck.”
12:28 PM
I arrived at the KTLU radio station about, say three hours ago. I haven’t been able to figure out what to do, so I’ve been sitting on my ass inside this cheap cafeteria of theirs. You’d think a place like this would have better vending machines. Other than cheap candy bars, there isn’t much left that’s edible in here but some oatmeal on the shelf. I packed some food with me, but I’ve got no mind to double back and get them.
No. Candy bars will have to do for now. I have to get started on the radio. I’ve never seen half this stuff before let alone operated one. Jesus Christ I’ve got a hell of a learning curve ahead of me.
12:43 PM
Before the infection, I remembered there was construction work going on at Mission Street. It was on the same day. Same hour, same time. Guys in hard hats were going in and out of the sewers. They were doing something. I don’t know
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