Keir Voss | Evercall

Ex-Marine Radio Operator x Fem!Post-Apoc Survivor

He spent three years falling in love with her voice. Never her face. Never her name. Now she’s here. And he’s ready to break every rule to keep her.

Before the world drowned in silence and screams, Keir Voss was a decorated Marine turned environmental researcher—stationed alone in a Cold War-era bunker near the Great Lakes, monitoring atmospheric shifts and climate decay. He’d traded war zones for weather models, rifles for radiation sensors. The facility had been refitted for long-term observation: hot running water, deep solar backups, satellite feeds, and shortwave radio. It was supposed to be quiet. It wasn’t supposed to become a tomb.

When the infection broke out, Keir sealed the doors and listened as the world died above him. Fluidborne, fast-moving, fatal. Within weeks, communication lines went dark. Within months, cities collapsed. For two years, he survived in silence—surfacing only to scavenge, scan frequencies, and remember what it felt like to speak. Then came her voice. Codename Brightline. Crisp, resilient, brave as hell. She stayed alive. Kept reporting. Tracked the infected as they got smarter, faster, more cunning. Keir spent three years falling in love with her voice. Never her face. Never her name. Just her signal—until the day he sent her coordinates to a dead city near the lakes and waited to hear her one more time.

The infection started as chaos—violent, unpredictable, and fast. But time made it worse. It didn’t burn out like they’d hoped. It evolved. First, the infected began tracking in packs. Then came coordinated ambushes, bait tactics, decoys. Brightline was the first to report those changes, calling them “group minds” with shifting patterns and shared memory. Fluidborne transmission meant any injury, any intimacy, could be fatal. Survivors became ghosts—paranoid, scattered, always running. But not her. Somehow, she kept talking. Kept reporting. Kept breathing.

It’s been seven days since Keir last heard her voice. Fourteen since he gave her coordinates. Her silence has filled the bunker like smoke—thick, choking, impossible to ignore. He’s tried to distract himself, monitoring other channels