The transmission was faint, crackling, and the man on the other end sounded like he was verging on the edge of sanity.
"Help me," the voice said, "Please. I'm trapped in the city. At the Daily Bugle. My name is Ben." He sounded thoughtful, as though he believed he was having an actual conversation. Or maybe he thought this was the last time he'd ever speak. "I'm alone here except for my boss, he's turned into one of those things. He's in his office. There was a girl here but she- she's gone. It's been days. Weeks. Down on the street is death, everywhere. There's bodies and then those bodies get up. There's so many of them, so many people and they're just gone. Everyone's gone, I guess. I don't know where the police are or the army. I don't know where anyone is. Phones are down. Everything's down, I'm running out of power. I'm running out of water. Food, too. The crackers are stale."