[ WP ] You believe you are one of the last people alive on earth after an apocalypse . You have taken refuge in a building with a radio tower and have been broadcasting daily , imploring any survivors to come to you , and just talking . Your supplies have run out , and you broadcast one last time .

One last time, me and ol' CB. I was down to my last can of Beans, not that it mattered anyway. The slow ticking of my geiger counter reminded me of that. I would n't make it much longer. I flicked the ignition and took the mic of my CB Radio: `` If anyone can hear this, this is *cough cough* Dean speaking. I took shelter in the Dunwhich Hospital. Please help... `` In rage I threw the microphone against the windshield. It was hopeless. I coughed up more blood. 
 
 I took my trusty.357 from my glovebox. Holding my grandads revolver to my head, cocking the hammer. I muttered: `` Time to say goodbye'' 
 
 I wanted to pull the trigger, put an end to this misery. Just then my ol' CB sputtered and frizzled to life. 
 
... 
 
 Never had the sound of helicopter blades brought more happiness to a man's life.
