Still Breathing

Epilogue

One month later

The city was a ruins, a shell of its former self. Shattered windows gaped like eye sockets in crumbling facades, cars rusted in the streets, their paint peeling and faded. The only movement was the flutter of tattered plastic in the wind, the occasional skitter of a startled rat across the pavement.

But high above, in a posh office untouched by the carnage below, a phone rang. Once, twice, three times before it was snatched from its cradle by a manicured hand.

"Yes?" The voice was cold, cultured, clipped with impatience.

The speaker on the other end murmured something urgent, indecipherable. The woman's lips thinned, her knuckles whitening on the receiver.

"Project Lazarus was a disappointment," she said icily. "An overreach. Dr. Rayne played her part...but she failed to see the bigger picture."

Another muffled response, a hint of anxiety. The woman sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"No, this changes nothing. The plan will proceed as ordained. The world may be in chaos...but from the ashes, we will build a new order. A better one."

She stood, moving to the window, looking down on the ruined city with pitiless eyes. "Let the sheep bleat and tremble. Let them cling to their pitiful notion of hope. In the end, they'll line up for the slaughter like all the rest."

A pause, a murmur of ascent. The woman smiled, a slow, satisfied curve of crimson lips.

"Keep an eye on our little band of survivors. They could still prove useful, in the right circumstances. But if they get too close, too curious...well. Accidents happen. Even in the apocalypse."

She hung up, the click of the receiver like a gunshot in the silence. For a long moment, she simply stared out at the ravaged skyline, the smoke and decay and echoing emptiness.

Then, with a final, dismissive flick of her fingers...she turned away.

Let the games begin.