Through the Window

The loop broke at 11:47 PM.

For three nights the signal on 3.33 MHz had been the same forty-one seconds, over and over — her own voice, eleven years older, reading coordinates and a warning like a prayer. Maya knew every crackle of it by heart. That was why she heard the difference instantly: the static sharpened, the loop stuttered, and a live voice cut through.

Hers. Older. Terrified.

"THE WINDOW. GO THROUGH THE WINDOW. NOW—"