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[Transcript]

Hello, Whiskey. Sorry if my voice sounds rough. Haven’t used it in a while, I’m a little Rusty. Figure it’s close enough for you to recognize it, anyway. You know the drill by now, and I don’t have time to waste. Can’t stay in one place too long, or they’ll find me. I hear you’re dealing with some of that, yourself. I’m sorry to hear that. Not surprised, just sorry.

I heard the broadcasts of my other selves, through your channel. I think Rosy and I followed a similar path in our lives – mine just seems to have gone in a different direction. Out of the bunker and into Black Forest. Lakewood. Santa Rosa. A hundred places that start with ‘Fort’. I know Rosy painted a rather… rosy picture of finding other people, but the truth of it is that not everyone is lucky like that. Most of us, the people we run into aren’t going to cozy up to us and keep us warm. More of them would sooner set you on fire. And you can hope for the former, but you need to prepare for the latter.

There’s this book I managed to find – in one of the Fort-Somethings, ironically enough. You should find a copy. Hell, I’d leave you mine if I knew how. It’s called The Anarchist Cookbook. Ignore the parts about politics. There’s no mass uprising happening in either of our worlds. There’s not enough people to be a mass anything. But it has instructions for booby traps, hand-to-hand combat, tear gas… be especially careful with that last one, though. Don’t make my mistake.

I know it… it sounds extreme. And maybe for your world it is. In mine it’s just… this is life, now. The world is on fire, and you can either run from it, you can fight it, or you can burn. And for a long time, I thought that this was all there was. All there ever would be. But hearing your broadcasts, hearing you find yourself, find love, find… something more than ash and cinders… it was like a breath of fresh air. So… thank you for that, Whiskey. It’s nice imagining a place where I could take in a lungful of air without choking on it. See a sun that isn’t blood red. Feel rain on my face that doesn’t burn. Or even just… find someone I can trust. I think I could weather the haze and the heat if I had someone with me, the way you do. You take good care of her, Whiskey. Make sure she takes care of you, too.

I think I’ll leave you that book, after all. It’s risky, I know. And… it’s possible that it won’t even be there in your world, but… maybe. If you want it, head south, to just before the border. Well… where a border used to be. You’ll find a set of barrier islands, along the coast. My truck is there, along one of the side streets. I’ll leave the book in the glove box. I’ve found a boat – a working one, and I’m going to try to take it somewhere, instead. I don’t know where I’ll end up, but it’s gotta be better than here.

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