The Last Broadcast — Part 2: The Thing Wearing Her Face

Ethan didn’t move.
He couldn’t.
His mind was stuck on one thought:
Mia’s voice.
Coming from behind him.
Coming from the person standing beside him.
The real Mia was frozen, tears running down her face.
“Ethan,” she whispered. “I didn’t say that.”
The voice came again.
But this time it came from the radio.
Then the phones.
Then the speakers in the walls.
“Of course you did.”
The survivor from upstairs backed away.
“No…”
Ethan looked at him.
“You knew about this?”
The man shook his head.
“I thought the copies were replacing people after they disappeared.”
He stared at Mia.
“But they’ve changed.”
The lights flickered.
And every screen in the station showed the same image:
Mia.
Standing in the police station.
Smiling.
But Ethan wasn’t looking at Mia.
He was looking at the screen.
Because the image showed something impossible.
There were two Mias.
One beside him.
One on the screen.
Both smiling.

“Which one is real?” the survivor whispered.
Ethan grabbed Mia’s hand.
“I know my sister.”
Mia looked at him.
“Ethan…”
Her voice cracked.
“I’m scared.”
For a second, he believed her.
Then the police station doors began shaking.
The infected outside weren’t trying to break in anymore.
They were all standing perfectly still.
Waiting.
The radio turned on.
A new voice spoke.
A voice Ethan recognised.
His own.
“Open the door.”
Everyone looked at him.
Ethan stepped back.
“That’s not me.”
The radio repeated:
“Open the door.”
Then the voice added:
“Ethan, you already know what happens if you don’t.”
The survivor grabbed a chair and smashed the radio.
The station went silent.
Then came a knock.
Not from the front door.
From the back room.
Three slow knocks.
Everyone turned.
The back room was locked.
Nobody had been inside.
Another knock.
Then a voice:
“Ethan?”
His heart stopped.
Because it was his dad’s voice.
His dad, who had disappeared on day one.
“Ethan, please.”
Mia grabbed his arm.
“Don’t open it.”
The survivor whispered:
“It’s learning faster than before.”
The voice behind the door started crying.
“I know you can hear me.”
A pause.
Then:
“I know you think I’m not real.”
The door handle slowly moved.
“But I remember something only your dad would know.”
Ethan stared at the door.
The handle stopped.
The voice whispered:
“You were seven years old when you broke the window playing baseball.”
Ethan’s face went pale.
Only his dad knew that.
The survivor looked at him.
“What did you do?”
Ethan didn’t answer.
Because the door was unlocking.
Slowly.
The lock clicked.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
The door opened.
A man stood there.
Older.
Tired.
Injured.
Alive.
Ethan couldn’t breathe.
“Dad?”
The man smiled.
“Hey, kid.”
Ethan ran forward.
But Mia screamed:
“STOP!”
Everyone froze.
Mia pointed at the man.
Her hands shaking.
“That’s not Dad.”
The man’s smile disappeared.
The room went silent.
“Why?” Ethan asked.
Mia stepped back.
“Because…”
She looked terrified.
“I never told you this.”
The man tilted his head.
“What?”
Mia stared at Ethan.
“The person who raised us wasn’t our dad.”
Ethan felt the world shift.
“What are you talking about?”
Mia looked at the man.
Then at Ethan.
“Our real dad died years ago.”
The man standing in the doorway stopped smiling.
The radio suddenly turned on by itself.
And Ethan heard his own voice whisper:
“She finally remembered.”
The lights went out.
When they came back on…
Mia was gone.
The back door was open.
And written on the wall in fresh letters were six words:
“THANK YOU FOR BRINGING HER HOME.”
Then the radio spoke one last time:
“Ethan…”
A pause.
“Run.”
“Because now we know how to make you.”