March 15, 2026
Lucy Morris awoke to the dim light of dawn filtering through the shattered window. The cold air of the abandoned lab clung to her skin, but she was used to it by now. It had been days since the city had completely gone dark, the last remnants of power fading away. Even the emergency generators had failed. Without power, there was no communication, no way to know if anyone else in the world was still alive.
She forced herself to sit up, her body aching from weeks of malnutrition and exhaustion. Her once-white lab coat was now stained and torn, a relic of a time when she had believed in saving the world. Now, it was nothing more than a tattered reminder of her failure.
Lucy's eyes scanned the room, taking in the empty desks, the cold equipment that had once been the frontline of the fight against Virobacterium cataclysmica prionis. The air was thick with dust, a tangible sign of how long it had been since anyone had moved through the space. She was alone now. The others, her colleagues, had either succumbed to illness or left in a desperate search for salvation outside the city. No one had returned.
Dragging herself out of bed, Lucy shuffled to the window and looked out over the dead city. New York's skyline was still visible, though many of the buildings had darkened as their power had failed. What had once been the vibrant heartbeat of the world now stood as a monument to humanity's hubris, an empty shell filled with the ghosts of the millions who had once lived here.
There was no movement on the streets below, no sign of life. The camp in Central Park had gone silent weeks ago, and she hadn't seen any survivors in days. The world was empty.
Lucy turned away from the window, feeling the familiar pang of guilt settle into her chest. Every day, the weight of what had happened bore down on her with renewed intensity. She had been part of the team that created the viral vector—she had believed that they could stop Virobacterium cataclysmica prionis. And they had. But it had been too late. The prions had already done their damage, stripping away humanity's defenses, leaving them vulnerable to every other infection in existence.
She walked over to the last functional terminal in the lab, though it barely worked now. The screen flickered weakly, showing a map of the world. Red dots marked the areas of infection, but they no longer updated. There was no data to pull from. The last transmission had come weeks ago, from a small group of survivors in Australia, but even that had gone silent.
Lucy stared at the map for a long time, her mind wandering back to the beginning—to the day that the first patient had come into the hospital, coughing and feverish. She had been so sure they could stop it then. So sure that science would save them.
Her thoughts drifted to Dr. Victor Hale, the man responsible for all of this. He had unleashed Virobacterium cataclysmica prionis on the world, hoping to bring about its end, and in a twisted way, he had succeeded. Lucy hadn't seen or heard from him since the final days of the reset. Some part of her still believed he was alive, somewhere in the world, watching it all fall apart from the safety of his bunker.
She had once hated him for what he had done. Now, though, she wasn't sure what she felt anymore. The lines between right and wrong had blurred in the face of humanity's extinction. It no longer mattered who was to blame. The only thing that mattered was survival.
But there was no survival. Not anymore.
March 20, 2026
Five days passed in the same silence. Lucy spent most of her time moving through the city, scavenging what little food and supplies she could find. The streets were empty, though occasionally she would come across the bodies of those who hadn't made it. Some lay in alleyways, huddled against the cold in their final moments. Others had died in their homes, their windows darkened and their doors barricaded.
The isolation weighed on her. It was one thing to be alone in a lab full of colleagues, to be part of the last team fighting for survival. But now, there was no one left. The world was a graveyard, and she was its last mourner.
Each day, she walked farther, hoping to find some sign of life—some other survivor who hadn't given up. But the city remained lifeless. The occasional gust of wind sent debris scattering across the streets, but nothing else stirred.
On the seventh day, she returned to the lab empty-handed. She had exhausted every nearby resource, and now she was left with nothing but a few cans of food and some bottles of water. She sat down heavily at her desk, staring at the map on the terminal. It was an old habit, checking for updates, even though she knew there wouldn't be any.
Her fingers tapped idly on the keyboard, bringing up the last few logs of communication from other countries. Most of the messages were from early January, before the world had gone dark. Desperate pleas for help, reports of entire cities succumbing to secondary infections, cries for vaccines and treatments that no longer existed.
She clicked on the most recent message—a transmission from what had once been a research station in Antarctica. It was dated February 10, 2026, and the tone was grim.
To anyone still listening, the message read. This is the final report from McMurdo Station. We are down to five survivors. Supplies are low, and we don't expect to last much longer. The prions have reached us. We tried everything, but there's nothing left. If anyone is still alive out there… we wish you luck.
The message ended abruptly, cutting off in the middle of a sentence. Lucy stared at the screen, feeling the familiar weight of despair settle over her. Even Antarctica, the most isolated place on Earth, had fallen. There was no one left.
She closed the terminal and sat back in her chair, her thoughts spinning. The silence of the lab was oppressive, pressing in on her from all sides. She had always been able to find solace in her work, but now there was nothing left to work for. The fight was over, and they had lost.
A sudden thought crossed her mind, one that had been lingering in the back of her consciousness for weeks. What if she left the city? What if she walked away from this place, from the ruins of New York, and tried to find something—anything—out there in the rest of the world? Surely, there had to be someone else. She couldn't be the last.
But then the rational part of her mind spoke up. Leaving the city would be suicide. The infections were everywhere, and without any protection, she wouldn't last long. The prions had weakened her immune system, just like everyone else. One scratch, one cough from a sick survivor, and she would be dead.
No, staying was the only option. She had food and water here, enough to last a little while longer. Maybe that was all she could hope for now—surviving just a little bit longer.
March 31, 2026
Lucy stood at the edge of the Hudson River, watching as the sun dipped below the horizon. The sky was painted in shades of orange and pink, casting a surreal glow over the abandoned city. For a moment, she allowed herself to believe that the world was still normal, that everything was as it should be.
But the silence was too loud, the emptiness too vast. The world was gone, and she was the last witness.
As the darkness crept in, Lucy turned away from the river and began the long walk back to the lab. Each step felt heavier than the last, her body growing weaker with every passing day. She didn't know how much longer she could keep going, but she refused to give up. Not yet.
In the distance, a single light flickered in the darkened skyline—a remnant of some emergency system still clinging to life. It was a small, fragile thing, but in the vast emptiness of the city, it was the only sign that anything still existed.
Lucy kept walking, her eyes fixed on that tiny light. It was all she had left.