January 11th, 2034
I set up the radio in a corner of the room and searched the dial for any signs of life.
Nothing, nada, zip.
All I got for my effort was an earful of static and the makings of a migraine. Between the snowstorm, and the cabin’s obscured location I knew pulling in a signal was a long shot at best, but I was hoping just the same.
Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
The skies have cleared and the warbirds are back up in the air. With the sun out and shining bright the snow should start melting at a pretty good clip.
I’m hoping that’s the case. I’d like to check on the air base without leaving a trail.