Andy opened his eyes.
Two years after the end of the world and he still looked for Torres by his side. Silly of him. Torres was gone and all Andy had left was the morning broadcast to keep him going. It was all that got him to haul himself into his wheelchair and head down to the station.
Puddles wouldn’t stop him. The growing grass and moss might, if Spike’s plans for a better wheelchair didn’t work out.
Two years. Andy’s heart ached for everything he’d lost, for Torres gone all this time. But life went on and so did Andy, reaching out to the other survivors in the only way he could.
Over the radio.
