Falling Falling Apr 2026

"Still falling?" a woman’s voice crackled back. It was Sarah. He’d picked up her signal yesterday. She was somewhere roughly four miles "below" him, though direction had become a suggestion rather than a rule.

At first, there was screaming. Thousands of voices cut through the air, a choir of terror that eventually faded as people drifted too far apart to be heard. Now, there was only the rush of the slipstream. Falling Falling

Inside, he found a tin of emergency rations and a handheld radio. He clicked it on, the static popping like distant gunfire. "Still falling