Thomas: I'm not that kind of girl

“Ladies and gentlemen of HQ, here’s to the apocalypse.”

            Thomas chuckled to himself as he played Beyonce’s Single Ladies over the loudspeaker. Who knew that the end of humanity would mean the incredible rise in popularity of his favorite artists? Well. Thomas was the only person with access both to a PA system and a butt load of pop music, so it did make some amount of sense.

“Ah, if he liked it he should have put a ring on it. Truuuuuuuuth, Yonce, truuuuth.          …Please still be alive.”

            So many of his friends and family were gone. Some Thomas himself gave mercy to. What had this world come to? Week three of the living dead and humanity was just now slowly getting back on its feet. Going back to its roots, relearning old fashioned ways of living. The last heater died four days ago.

Sigh

“The Amish must be loving this.”

            Thomas hummed along to himself as he checked his baby. The old radio set that he had put together himself was something only Frankenstein would love. Made from bits and pieces from around the complex, this was the adopted baby that Thomas had never had. With this static-y creation he could talk to the pockets of existence strewn about the rotting world. 

            One of those pockets called in.

“Rainbow, Rainbow, this is Away Team 2. Come in please. Over.”

“I’m here, I’m here. And that’s Captain Rainbow to you AT2. Over.”

“…Captain Rainbow, we’ve got our sights on some raiders in the area. Please advise. Over.”

            Thomas let the information sink in for a moment. His hands nervously twitched towards the radio dial. Vale’s orders dictated that he radio her when emergencies arose. And this, this may be an emergency in an already unstable world.

“Stay in contact, AT2. Will advise in 2 shakes. Over.”

            He switched over to Emily’s personal dial.

“Ms. Vale. We’ve got a problem. Over.”