♦

Eighteen long and torturous months have passed since the bombs, and the survivors find themselves in a state of despair within the library's gloomy confines. Boredom weighs heavily on Lilith as she lies sprawled on the floor, her mind adrift in an alcohol-induced haze. The monotonous song, now etched into her soul, plays on an endless loop, serving as the relentless soundtrack to their shared descent into madness.

The survivors are scattered across the room, each bearing the burden of their isolation and hunger. Andre, his patience worn thin, releases an exasperated sigh, directing his frustration at Nyx, who can't seem to sit still. Her relentless pacing mirrors the restlessness that has consumed them all.

"Nyx, your pacing is driving me crazy," Andre snaps, his gaze fixed on the agitated girl.

"I don't know how much more of this I can take," Nyx admits, her frustration heavy in her tone.

"Join the club," Coco chimes in.

"Seriously, stop pacing; it's making me nauseous," Lilith adds, sitting up from her prone position on the floor. Nyx begrudgingly complies, folding her arms and slumping down next to Gallant.

"Maybe it's time to eat somebody," Gallant muses as he lounges on the couch.

"Or just, like, an arm," Coco adds, momentarily imagining a substantial meal.

Timothy, reclining like Gallant, finally breaks his silence. "He was right about the song. There was a morning after. It just looked exactly like the previous morning. We weren't rescued, and no one ever came."

"You're always such a ray of sunshine, Timmy," Lilith exhales, rising from the floor with the help of a nearby coffee table. In this bleak and unending nightmare, their hope has withered away, leaving behind a grim acceptance of their dire circumstances.

Andre, still sullen, glances around the room. "This is hell. Pure and simple."

Gallant seems lost in thought. "The Cooperative has to be out there, somewhere."

Emily, who has been sitting quietly, speaks up. "What if they forgot about us?"

Mallory attempts to reassure her. "They won't forget. They'll come for us."

But Lilith, her skepticism unyielding, can't share their optimism. "I stopped believing in fairy tales a long time ago."

As the music plays on, the survivors remain huddled in their sanctuary, grappling with boredom and a gnawing hunger that grows stronger with each passing day. The hope of rescue, though faint, is all they have left to cling to in their never-ending nightmare.

♦

Gathered in the dining hall, the survivors share a sense of discontent as they face yet another unsatisfying breakfast. Venable breaks the heavy silence with a tap of her cane, demanding their attention.

"This will be our last breakfast," Her words strike each of them like a bolt of lightning in the dining hall, capturing the attention of every survivor.

"You can't be serious," Coco exclaims in disbelief, her voice echoing through the room.

Lilith, still wiping away the remnants of sleep from her eyes, struggles to process this distressing information.

"An effective dieting technique," Evie states.

Coco, however, refuses to find humor in their predicament. "Yeah, so is starving to death," she retorts bitterly.

Gallant's voice rises in tandem with his growing frustration. "How are we supposed to survive on half a cube?" he demands, mirroring the collective outrage beginning to brew.

Lilith, caught in the throes of hunger gnawing at her very core, sighs heavily. Her unique craving compounds the already unbearable sensation of emptiness.

Venable, maintaining an air of stoic authority, addresses the tension at the table. "It's not optimal, but it's also not impossible," she reassures, her gaze sweeping across the faces of her uneasy audience. "Either way, we have no choice if we want to eat at all."

"I fucking can't do this anymore," Gallant mutters, voicing the collective sentiment.

Dinah rises from her seat with determination. "You don't know how strong we are until we face adversity," she declares. "This could be an opportunity for all of us to grow."

Gallant makes a dramatic stand, brandishing a fork threateningly at Dinah. "Finish that bumper sticker shit you used to say on your show, and I'm strong enough to shove this fork in your neck."

Evie intervenes with exasperation. "Oh, calm down," she says, rolling her eyes.

"What is the point of all this? Starving, killing each other, getting shot? All we're doing is waiting around to find out how we die," Coco adds.

Mallory, eager for change, makes a bold suggestion. "I say we take our chances outside."

Gallant echoes her sentiment. "She's right. We have to get out of here."

However, Mead issues a stern warning. "Nobody's going anywhere," she declares firmly.

"Who's down for a suicide pact?" Nyx spreads her arms out, but no one likes her idea.

Gallant's fury intensifies, culminating in a dramatic display of defiance. He grabs his plate and hurls it against the wall, his gaze defiantly challenging Mead. "What are you going to do? Shoot us all? Huh? What are you gonna do?!"

As the wardens and Venable prepare to deal with the escalating confrontation, an abrupt, deafening alarm pierces the air. Red emergency lights flash, casting an unsettling glow throughout the Outpost.

"Perimeter alert," The Fist announces urgently. "There's been a breach."

Lilith, worn down by the relentless cascade of hardships, exhales a deep groan and promptly empties the contents of her glass.

The atmosphere in the dining area grows increasingly tense as the alarm persists, its shrill wails and flashing red lights creating a disconcerting backdrop to their otherwise mundane existence. Everyone exchanges uncertain glances.

Coco, always unafraid to voice her thoughts, chimes in, "This shit is too much. We can't keep living like this. It's driving us all insane."

Evie, on the other hand, tries to maintain a semblance of optimism. "Let's give it a chance, darlings."

Lilith, nursing another glass of alcohol, stares into the swirling liquid, her thoughts turbulent with bitterness and resignation. The outpost has become a prison, and she is no longer sure if she wants to escape or if she even cares about her survival.

As Lilith sits there, her glass in hand, a disquieting shiver slithers up her spine like an old acquaintance paying an unwelcome visit. It's the sort of sensation she refuses to acknowledge, a nagging intuition that whispers to her.

Yet, amidst the chaos, she chooses to dismiss it. Perhaps it is merely the oppressive atmosphere of their never-ending ordeal playing tricks on her senses. Or maybe it is the result of her frayed nerves, strained to their breaking point by the monotony of their existence.

With a shrug, she raises her glass to her lips and takes a deliberate sip, the red liquid burning down her throat. She has grown accustomed to the strange anomalies of their grim reality, choosing to ignore them for the sake of her dwindling sanity. After all, in this forsaken outpost, brushing off the ominous is a survival tactic in itself.

♦

Lilith sits alone in her room, the weight of their reality heavy on her shoulders. She has traded her elegant attire for a loose, semi-sheer chemise. With long hair cascading down to the small of her back, she resembles a fallen angel, lost in the abyss of her suffering.

The crushing knowledge that nobody is coming to rescue them gnaws at her, rendering all their hopes in vain. She can't help but wish for the simple release of oblivion, to have been consumed by the blast rather than endure this torturous existence. Yet, amidst the despair, there's a glimmer of gratitude that her sister has been granted a chance at survival.

Lilith hums a haunting tune, a melody passed down from her mother, a soothing balm for her tormented soul. As her brush traces through her long locks, she tries to maintain a semblance of normalcy. Sipping the amber liquid from a cup, she closes her eyes, trying to drown her sorrows.

Her attention is suddenly drawn to something out of place. Setting the cup down, she walks over to the end table at the opposite end of her room. A furrow forms on her brow as she realizes the object is a fresh crimson rose.

Intrigued, she picks it up, twirling it between her fingers as she inspects it. The very existence of an unwilted flower in their apocalyptic conditions puzzles her. Lilith plucks off a petal, running her fingers over its velvety texture.

The scream that ruptures the silence yanks her from her quietude. Without hesitation, she bolts from her room toward the source of the commotion. She finds herself in Emily's room, a cacophony of hissing and frightened voices filling the air.

"I thought everything from outside was dead," The Fist wonders aloud.

"God knows how deep they went after the blast," Mead responds, her eyes fixed on the writhing snakes that have invaded the outpost. "Maybe they came through the sewage or the ventilation system."

Lilith watches in shock as The Fist picks up one of the snakes, eliciting an angry hiss. The sight of Mead brutally decapitating another with an ax makes her stomach churn.

"What's going on?" Nyx's voice cuts through the tension as she approaches behind her sister.

Mead glances back at Nyx before lifting the severed snake and inspecting it. "Looks like we've got some fresh protein."

"Won't they be contaminated?" Emily questions.

"No, we'll scan 'em. I don't see any mutations," Mead replies with a sickening grin, her eyes locked on the dead snake. "Boy, this looks like good eatin', huh?"

"Normally, I would be disgusted," Nyx admits, her hunger overriding her revulsion. "But I'm so hungry that I don't even care."

"Everything's under control," Mead commands, addressing Timothy, Lilith, and Nyx. "You three can go back to your rooms."

♦

The dining room is cloaked in the hushed clinks and clatters of silverware as the group assembles around the table for dinner. Mallory and Diana carefully fill bowls with portions of the mysterious dish, and a collective realization ripples through the group, dawning on them like an unwelcome revelation.

"I have a strict rule against eating creatures with no legs or too many legs," Coco remarks, her face contorted in disgust as the Greys begin to place their bowls before the elite.

"Oh, right, but you're fine with eating things with two legs," Andre retorts with a playful flourish, holding up two fingers for dramatic emphasis. Coco rolls her eyes dismissively.

"For the hundredth time, we did not eat your boyfriend." Gallant asserts, casting an exasperated look at Andre, who responds with an unapologetic middle finger.

"Eat it if you want, or don't. Nobody's going to force-feed you," Mead declares with a hint of impatience.

Dinah, ever the voice of reason, interjects, "Adversity makes for strange bedfellows and even stranger dinner companions. It's sustenance, and we're ravenously hungry. Let's try to be grateful for the nourishment, however unconventional."

Evie, breaking the awkward silence with her trademark flair, adds, "You know, steamed snake soup can actually be quite delectable. It was even the centerpiece at a dinner I attended at the Royal Court in Kuala Lumpur with Gina Lollobrigida."

Her grandson groans in response to her extravagant anecdotes, but the silence persists.

Emily chooses this moment to break the silence to satiate her curiosity. "So, who's in your office, Venable?"

Venable lifts her head, propping it up delicately with her hand. "I beg your pardon?"

"The alarms went off before. Someone came inside." Emily continues, her voice betraying her skepticism.

A tense atmosphere descends upon the room, and then Timothy interjects with his own question. "Who else is here?"

"All of your questions will be answered in due course," Venable replies, her gaze shifting between Emily and Timothy. "Eat."

With cautious trepidation, everyone gingerly removes the lids from their bowls, bracing themselves for the meal that awaits them. Yet, their anticipation quickly shifts into shock as live snakes begin to emerge from their bowls.

Lilith gasps, her hand instinctively flying to cover her mouth as she hastily pushes her chair away from the table. The room transforms into a scene of frenzied chaos as the group scrambles to distance themselves from the unexpected and unsettling intrusion of serpentine creatures.

♦

Lilith, who has succumbed to an early inebriated slumber, sprawls in her bed dressed in her formal attire from dinner. Diana, almost a ghost in the dark room, enters with a single candle. Carefully, she positions it on Lilith's bedside table before lighting the other candles scattered throughout the room. The warm, wavering glow dispels the encroaching darkness, gradually revealing the room's decor.

"Lilith, get up," Diana urgently announces, her voice breaking the oppressive silence. "Seriously, you're going to be late."

Lilith rouses from her alcohol-induced slumber, groans in response. "Who cares?"

"Do you want Venable to whip you again?" Diana asks as she pours a generous amount of alcohol into a glass before settling on the edge of Lilith's bed and extending it to her.

"Don't threaten me with a good time," Lilith retorts, her voice groggy. She accepts the glass, her movements sluggish, and takes a slow sip, hoping to alleviate the pounding headache that has made itself at home in her skull.

Diana chuckles at Lilith before standing up and patting her mattress. "Come on, get up. We gotta make you look presentable. Now."

"Yes, ma'am," Lilith responds with a mock salute. She sets her glass down and rises from the bed.

Diana meticulously attends to her, ensuring Lilith's hair is no longer a tangled mess. She deftly pins some curls to add an air of elegance, with a few loose tendrils framing Lilith's face.

Then, she assists Lilith in putting on her shoes, and before she knows it, Lilith is ready to face whatever awaits her. Having slept for only a couple hours, Lilith is still rather inebriated, causing her to sway unsteadily on her feet.

Diana guides her out of the room, their footsteps echoing through the corridors. They finally reach the library, and as they enter, Diana moves aside. All eyes in the room seem to turn toward Lilith.

"Sorry, I'm late," Lilith mumbles as she enters, her fingers smoothing down the wrinkles in her dress.

As she scans the room, her eyes unexpectedly lock onto a figure standing amongst the group.

Time freezes in its relentless march as their eyes meet, a tsunami of emotions crashing over her. It feels like an undertow, sucking the air from her lungs, leaving her breathless and drowning in the depth of the familiar blue of his gaze.

Shock surges through her, and for a moment, she feels the world shift beneath her feet. In her dazed state, she stumbles over the hem of her long skirt, but Diana is quick to catch her, preventing a potentially embarrassing fall. She steadies Lilith and whispers urgently, "Get yourself together."

"Take a seat, Ms. Morgan," Venable calls out, her tone icy and clearly tinged with annoyance. "I'll deal with you later."

Lilith averts her gaze, feeling a deep sense of embarrassment and object terror as she makes her way to sit on the couch next to her equally stunned sister. The two siblings exchange a knowing and anxious glance.

"My name is Langdon, and I represent the Cooperative." Michael's voice, haunting and familiar, makes her blood run cold. She fights to regain control of herself, but it proves to be a struggle. The room seems to spin around her, his words become a distant blur.

Lilith takes a deliberate breath, slowing her exhale to a measured pace. She focuses her senses, honing in on the conversation, each word resonating in the charged atmosphere around her.

"What happened to the people inside?" Timothy's voice cuts through the haze.

"Massacred," Michael replies nonchalantly. "The same fate that will befall almost all of you."

"Almost all?" Mallory ventures.

Michael, hands held casually behind his back. He looks to her, ignoring her sentiment before he continues, "In the knowledge that this very moment might occur, we built a failsafe—The Sanctuary."

"The Sanctuary?" Coco questions.

"The Sanctuary is... unique. It has certain security measures that will prevent overrun."

"Excuse me, sir?" Mead interrupts, seeking clarity. "What measures? Why weren't we informed?"

Michael glances away, raising a hand dismissively. "That's classified."

"All that matters is that the Sanctuary will... survive... so the people populating it will survive, so humanity will survive." Michael declares with a grace that captivates his audience, though Lilith scoffs at the assertion.

"Who are the people that are populating it?" Andre inquires.

"Also classified," Michael replies nonchalantly, his gaze shifting between those gathered before him. "However, I have been sent to determine if any of you are worthy and fit to join us."

His words spark murmurs within the group, but the sisters share a knowing glance, aware that this turn of events is unlikely to end favorably.

"The Cooperative has developed a particular and rigorous questioning technique we like to call cooperating. I will then use the information gained to determine if you belong."

"What is this, the Hunger Games?" Coco shakes her head in disbelief.

"I'm getting more of a Handmaid's Tale vibe," Nyx chimes in, causing Lilith to laugh despite the tense situation. Michael's gaze bounces between the two before landing on Coco.

"This is bullshit. I paid my way in here, and that is the only 'cooperating' I plan on doing," Coco declares defiantly.

"You don't have to sit for questioning," Michael suggests, a sly smile playing on his lips.

"What happens if we choose not to?" Andre asks in a monotone.

"Then you stay here and you die." Michael's voice grows louder, a stark reminder of the gravity of their situation.

A silence envelops the room before Gallant speaks up. "I volunteer to go first."

"Everyone will go when I decide," Michael states, tilting his head slightly. Lilith swallows hard, the realization dawning that she will soon find herself alone in a room with him.

"The process should only take me a couple of days, so you won't be kept in suspense forever. For those of you who don't make the cut, all is not lost. If the worst should happen and feral cannibals come knocking..." Michael produces a vial containing tiny white pills.

"Take one of these. One minute later, you fall asleep and never wake up." His eyes survey the room, landing on each and every person before settling on Lilith. "I look forward to meeting each and every one of you."

Lilith's intense gaze lingers on Michael's retreating form. The heavy library door swings closed behind him, and at that moment, she allows herself a breath, feeling a surge of relief like a refreshing wave. However, that fleeting sense of calm is swiftly eclipsed by a rising tide of rage.

With a tap of Venable's cane, the authority figures exit the room.

"Well, smooth move, asking to go first," Coco remarks, turning her attention toward Gallant.

"There's an old actor's adage," Evie pipes in. "Either go first or go last."

Coco redirects her glare to the older woman. "You're not going anywhere."

"Are you suggesting that he is going to pass me up?" Evie asks, offended.

"You're ancient," Coco points out. "He's looking for people to repopulate the Earth, not fill a bingo hall."

"You know, for someone with the mental capacity of a three-year-old, I suppose fifty-two might seem ancient."

"You were fifty-two when Elvis took his last shit."

"That's enough," Gallant warns, seemingly unamused by the argument.

Lilith's lips tighten, nostrils flaring. She stands up abruptly, unable to bear another second of the bickering, her steps purposeful as she makes her way toward the door.

"Lili, don—" Nyx's cautionary words are cut short as Lilith forcefully slams the door shut behind her. Fueled by fury, she enters the corridor, her vision tinged with red. In her determined march, she accidentally collides with a Grey, the encounter barely registering as her anger propels her forward, an unrelenting force seeking its target.

After a while, she surrenders to the fruitless hunt. Leaning against a nearby wall, Lilith seizes a filled glass intended for the library, courtesy of a passing Grey. With a determined thirst, she takes a long and much-needed swig. Squatting down, arms resting on her knees, she seeks solace in the cool, calming liquid, attempting to quell the flames of her all-consuming anger.

Closing her eyes, Lilith audibly inhales, the imagined sanctuary of her happy place providing a brief respite. Familiar with the dance of rage, she follows a mental checklist to calm the tempest within, avoiding the risk of harm to herself or, more crucially, someone else.

Amidst her attempts to regain composure, a voice punctures the air, calling out her name.

"Lilith?"

Lilith slowly opens her eyes, turning to trace the source of the familiar voice. To her surprise, she finds herself face to face with someone from her past.

"Josiah?" she breathes out, shock and joy crossing her face. In an instant, Lilith stands up, the remnants of her anger momentarily forgotten, replaced by a genuine smile. Without hesitation, she envelops him in a tight embrace, and Josiah reciprocates.

"I take it you saw my brother?" Josiah assumes, his hands offering a comforting presence on her back as their heads rest against each other's shoulders.

"That obvious, huh?" Lilith breathes, enjoying his embrace a little longer before pulling away and looking up at him. He has looked the same since she last saw him save for the lack of glasses and the stubble that has made its home on his face. "What the fuck is going on?"

Josiah lets out a long breath, thinking of what words to say. "As much as I want to, I can't say much,"

"Of course." Lilith rolls her eyes, throwing the rest of her drink to the back of her throat.

"You doing okay?" Josiah asks, concern etched on his features.

"Oh yeah, I'm doing fantastic." Lilith nods, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Suddenly, Venable's presence intrudes on their reunion. She approaches them with a cold and commanding demeanor.

"Ms. Morgan, you've been chosen to go first," Venable announces firmly, her attention on Lilith. "He's waiting for you in my office."

"Of course," Lilith mutters under her breath. With a deep breath, she looks briefly at Josiah. "Wish me luck."

♦

Lilith stands before the imposing office door, a heavy sense of unease suffocating her as she hesitates to cross its threshold. Steeling herself, she takes a deep breath, her fingers trembling as she drags the door open and steps into the room beyond.

As she ventures further into the room, her gaze finally settles on Michael. Seated behind an austere desk, he is engrossed in a labyrinth of files scattered before him. The dull yellow glow of the fireplace casts shadows, lending an air of foreboding to the atmosphere.

Their eyes lock in an unspoken acknowledgment, a taut silence enveloping them as he calmly sets aside a file. His unwavering stare bores into Lilith as she moves closer, her footsteps audible on the wooden floor. She perches on the seat in front of the desk, feeling the weight of the confrontation.

An unsettling quiet settles over them, like the calm before a storm, the only sound being the synchrony of their measured breaths. Lilith studies him, her eyes tracing the changes that have transpired since their paths last intersected.

His hair has grown longer, tousled in an almost cavalier fashion, and his posture exudes an unsettling air of confidence. He is an enigma, a familiar face from her past and a stranger who has evolved into something she can't entirely grasp.

Lowering her eyes away from his intense stare, she focuses on her interlaced fingers resting in her lap. For now, she chooses silence, unable to find the words to pierce the tension in the room. The weight of their shared history, buried resentments, and unresolved questions seems to suffocate her voice.

Michael, leaning back in his chair, allows the silence to stretch, studying her intently. It is as if he is dissecting her with every passing moment, analyzing every nuance of her presence. His eyes, once a familiar shade of blue, now feel like bottomless pits of scrutiny.

Lilith's thoughts race in the suffocating stillness. The power dynamic in the room is clear, and it fuels her simmering anger and resentment. She is uncomfortably aware of the advantage he holds in this encounter, an advantage that has always seemed to elude her.

Breaking the silence, Michael's voice finally cuts through the tension, low and measured. "It's been a long time. I'm sure you have questions."

Her jaw clenches as frustration and a profound yearning for closure swirl within her. Yet, she knows she can't afford to let her emotions commandeer the situation.

"Yeah, it has," Lilith replies with an unsettling calmness, her voice masking the turbulence beneath the surface. "But I'm sure you didn't come all this way for small talk."

Michael leans in slightly, his piercing gaze unwavering. "No, I didn't. Humanity is teetering on the brink, and choices need to be made."

"And where do I fit into all of this?" Lilith sighs, her eyes locking onto him in a determined stare.

Michael's gaze remains unyielding, unblinking. "That's what we're here to find out."

With those words, the walls seem to close in around her. Lilith is acutely aware that the path ahead is fraught with peril, one that will compel her to confront not only the external threats but also the unresolved ghosts of her past.

Michael's voice, smooth and measured, contrasts sharply with the chaos and upheaval he had once ushered into her life. "You've changed."

Her gaze remains fixated on her intertwined fingers as she responds, her words laden with bitterness. "Wish I could say the same about you."

He observes her for a moment longer before picking up a file, methodically opening it. Crossing his leg, he leans back in his chair, scanning through the contents.

"Lilith Camellia Morgan. Charged with two DUIs, multiple assault and battery charges, drug possession, and last but not least... ritualistic murder." Michael redirects his gaze toward her, casually flopping the file onto his desk.

She looks up, her eyes narrowing as they lock onto him. "What do you want, Michael?"

He leans forward ever so slightly, his piercing blue eyes never relinquishing their hold on hers. "For you to answer my questions."

A cold knot tightens in the pit of her stomach. This encounter is not without consequence; she knows it deep within. Michael has a way of unraveling the truths she has painstakingly concealed.

"If you hedge, I will know. If you lie, I will know. And if you try to trick me, I will know, and this interview will be over, and you will die here, painfully. Are we clear?"

"Oh, please." Lilith responds with a nonchalant roll of her eyes.

With an exasperated sigh, she stands up, locking eyes with Michael once more, an icy resolve in her gaze.

"No need to waste your time," she declares with a resolute edge. "I'm not interested in your little sanctuary, so if that means you're going to kill me, then by all means," Lilith flanks her arms for dramatization. "Have at it."

Despite her theatrics, Michael continues to stare at her, prompting Lilith to move to turn away. However, Michael's command echoes through the office. "Sit down, Lilith."

Lilith halts abruptly, her frustration bubbling over, and she turns back to face him. "Looks like you got everything you ever wanted."

Michael observes her with an unsettling amusement. "Not everything." Lilith shoots him a venomous glare before he continues, his tone unwavering. "Clearly, you're still upset. Get it out."

Lilith's anger surges, and she can't contain it any longer. In a swift and forceful motion, she marches over to the desk, her hands slamming down onto its surface as she leans over it, her face contorted with rage. "Fuck you," she spats out, her words dripping with venom.

Michael watches her with a detached amusement that only serves to fuel her fury. His response is taunting, his voice laced with insinuation. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" His eyes drift down her form, and her rapid, angry breaths seem to accentuate her cleavage.

Lilith leans in further, looking down at his at-ease form with daggers in her eyes. "I wouldn't fuck you if you were the last man on earth, and you almost are."

With a disheartened smile on her face, she moves abruptly, turning away from him with a defiant energy. The memories and emotions he has stirred up make it unbearable to be in his presence any longer.

"You won't get another chance at salvation," Michael calls out.

Lilith halts just at the threshold of the door, her eyes locked onto him. Her voice carries a finality that resonates throughout the room. "Fuck salvation."

With that, she pivots, leaving behind an enigmatic man who has reappeared in her life like a malevolent specter, and a swirling whirlwind of emotions that threatens to consume her from within.

♦