The fan whirred, then choked on dust. Marta held her breath. For six months, she’d seen no one. Just chalk marks on walls—survivor codes she couldn’t decipher. Arrows pointing to empty wells. The world had become a place of negative space.
A map? No.
The screen filled with blocky, monochrome noise. Then, slowly, an image resolved: a crude drawing of a hand. Five fingers. But the thumb was on the right side. A left hand. And in the palm: a circle with a dot in the center. airdrop para windows