The veins on his forehead pulsed as drops of fresh blood trickled from between strands of matted, blond hair.
‘If you’re out there, Annie, stay away from the coast. Get to the place we used to go, before all of this. Joey is safe – he misses his mother; we both do,’ he said, calmly, into the microphone.
‘Shit, they’ve locked in on our signal. We’ve got to leave..NOW!’ I said.
The unmistakable sound of the smoke-belching machines rumbled towards downtown. Houses standing defiantly in their way were flattened; any signs of life destroyed.
‘OK, let’s go. Annie will be waiting for us,’ he said, as we bolted for the door.
These words form my entry into this week’s Friday Fictioneers photo prompt challenge.