Radio Apocalypse by Gallagher Kayleigh

Radio Apocalypse by Gallagher Kayleigh

Author:Gallagher, Kayleigh [Gallagher, Kayleigh]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-03-04T16:00:00+00:00


The kitchen table is set for breakfast. Chipped turquoise bowls and plates sit on the pale wood, with ceramic shards scattered across the floor, dulled with age. Streams of dusty light come in from the windows, piercing between shredded blue curtains and striking the discolored walls. The cabinets, alternating between bluish-gray and muted burgundy, are all ruined, the doors hanging lopsided on their hinges. I nudge one open.

Inside are stacks upon stacks of broken china and glass, some of which are filled with dirt, somehow.

Next is a bedroom, which I take one look at, determine that it belonged to the two adult women in the photo, and leave as quickly as possible. Also on the first floor is a small office, next to the kitchen, with the ceiling collapsed all the way in. Dirt swirls through the air as I enter. I inspect the jagged bits of wood, metal, and puffy insulation and decide not to bother.

Then I turn my attention to the upstairs area, which juts out over the bottom level. The staircase opens up onto a soft carpeted landing; the banister has been snapped in half and several of the doors are completely missing, in addition to the gaping holes in the floor where it’s fallen inwards into the rooms below. There are three small bedrooms, which I do not enter, and two bathrooms—I assume one was for the children and one was for the adults.

I head around the corner and find a second staircase that leads up to an attic. This staircase is significantly more unstable-looking, with rusty nails sticking up above each buckled wooden plank. Some of the steps have the top pulled halfway off.

For a moment, I stand before the staircase, debating the idea of going up.

Then I sigh. “Fuck it, whatever.” Chances are, nothing’s even up there, and, if I die, I might as well go by getting trapped in a crawlspace and having to kick a hole in the wall to jump out of before falling several floors onto the street, right?

I pause before the door, testing it with my foot in case it’s locked. It seems pretty solid, but, aside from a brief moment where it gets stuck and I’m afraid the jamb is rusted in place, it opens with ease.

The wood creaks under my foot; I swear I hear something skitter by, but then it’s silent.

I bite my tongue as I inspect my surroundings.

The walls are covered with symbols. The one carved outside appears several times, but there are other ones, too, ones I don’t recognize. It’s dark in here, so I’m sure there are more, but the sharpest ones are gouged into the walls, the ceiling, over and over, obsessive, desperate. I put my hand on one, feeling the deep, messy cuts.

Some of the gashes are so sloppy that you can hardly make out the shapes, and a few go almost all the way through the wall in some places. The middle of the floor is blackened with soot. Burn-like



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