[ 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 .

All right, I'm still here. Uh... it-it's 4 October 2018. Tues... Tues... Tuesday, I think. Thursday maybe. I only keep track so I have something else to think about. First Sergeant John O'Hara checking in. 
 
 Uh, two? Two years I think, since the world shifted. Two years, thirteen days. I was deployed when it happened, so it must've been two... whatever. Uh. 
 
 This broadcast is to any and all survivors. I have n't seen human in... hell, a year? Eighteen months? Whatever. Anyway, here I am. I'm at the Williams Building, looking over downtown. I set up shop here a little over a week ago, only thing here was this radio. I do n't even know if it works. Um....I uh....found the bar, last night. Only thing to drink, heh. 
 
 Um. I'm moving to the Mayo, hoping to find something there. If you're listening, I'll be there at 0400 tomorrow, hoping to dodge the solar slag but still get some sleep tonight. Anyone's welcome, I guess. Ever you Jackal bastards. No food left for you to steal anyway. Um....hold on, I do n't really....Sorry. If you want someone to starve with, you know where I'll be. My only request is if you kill me, do n't waste me. Still some good meat left on me. 
 
 Challenge word is Star, reply is Texas. I'll see you there, maybe. Good luck, if not. 
 
 O'Hara, signing off.
