[TRANSCRIPT]

[click, static]

(sigh) So. I think I should probably explain some things. Again. 

I’m—if I sound different at all, it’s because I’m on a new CB. I tried to broadcast yesterday but I don’t think I was coming through at all—the radio kept spitting static back at me and it took me a second to figure out that something was wrong with the push-to-talk button. The mechanism inside kept slipping and—

Anyway, this isn’t important or interesting. Other than to say…I’ve got a new radio. And a new car. And…no other supplies really. It’s like I’m starting from scratch again, like we did in ’68 and I’m—

[click, static]

I’m trying not to be scared by it—daunted, I’ll allow, but there’s no room to be afraid of the circumstances I find myself in. Not when everything else is so fucking terrifying. 

He—

[click, static]

I shouldn’t have been broadcasting from the house. Even for a few minutes, it was foolish. Arrogant and risky and—

He found me. He walked through the door to the garage and he—

There was a moment, when we just looked at each other. And I could see his father in his face. The same eyes, the same ghosts of dimples on his cheeks. Even more prominent than on Billings face, actually, with the way that Junior’s face is sunken. Like he’s been underfed for years. Which, I suppose, he probably has been. Especially if he’s been alone. 

I wanted to ask, wanted to say—something. There’s so much I want to say to him, so much I want to ask him, but we stared at each other for that brief moment and then, before I could even open my mouth, he was lunging at me. 

It is the same cologne. As his father. I wonder if he wears it because it reminds him—

[click, static] 

Well, if there was any doubt that Junior wanted to kill me…I have my answer now. 

[click, static]

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