I'm surprised as anyone that this equipment still works. It hasn't been used in eighteen years, after all, when this place was still Lyons Township High School and I was in the Radio Broadcast Club. Why we still had one, I can't tell you. Something about the teacher who ran it being very, very attached. I don't ask questions. I introduce myself on the radio for one reason: you can't trust a voice without a name. Voices without names had told us that the rumors of a "super virus" were false — they were simply "Military Official" or "Doctor". They told us that Fūris wasn't real the morning of the day we were attacked by the first Hosts.

I pause after my first few statements to grab the data sheets that the Lab-Workers had put together for me before the broadcast. Before today, I was totally against trying to recruit possible survivors from the outside. Too risky, not enough to gain. Who knew if they would even be useful to trying to eradicate Fūris and the Hosts? But now, with all that's been uncovered, it's really the only way we can survive. Strength in numbers. You know the sayings.

"There is a new strand of the virus."

I pause, closing my eyes, making a wish that it isn't true, that this is all a hoax. It's the same wish I made the night after the Locking, the first Host attack. As if wishing people would pop out from behind a door and saying "Ha-ha, go you, sucker!" would actually make my reality false. As Nina would say, "Advertencia del spoiler: no hace nada." Whatever that means. I didn't take Spanish.

"The new strand of the disease, or as we like to call it, the Fūris Virus, is still under research, but our best scientists have already uncovered some... disturbing information."

I inhale, preparing myself for the resistance that will certainly come after I make my next statement.

"The new strand is immune to sunlight."

As expected, cries follow this. Some angry, some horrified, some doubtful, a few even sounding disgusted. I, honestly, reacted the same way to the grim news. Sunlight was our salvation. We've survived on the fact that the Hosts are unable to be in direct sunlight. That it's lethal to them. It's how we've fought them for eighteen years. Now, our one advantage is being stripped away. Suddenly, it feels like we're those scared kids in the bathrooms again, except Lucy isn't here to make me brave anymore, but one of the enemy. I raise my hand to silence the crowd, reminding them: we're still live. That's what matters. The voices stop and I begin again.

"The new strand also seems to create smarter products after being Infected, what we call Hosts, but this has yet to be confirmed."

I take a sharp breath. This is it. If anyone's listening, this is our only shot. If anyone's hopeless enough to be sitting with a radio. I close my eyes.

"We're going to be accepting recruits. We cannot accept the elderly or sickly, but small children will be taken in."

This doesn't just change things for those who hear it — if anyone hears it, really.

It puts us on a whole new playing field.