She took a deep breath and tried to make herself as small as possible when she heard the people outside. Her hands shook as she put on her earphones and pressed play on her old, beat up Sony Walkman. 

The recording was dark and grainy. There was a solid minute or so of just static before a click gave way to the loud buzzing of what appeared to be an old lightbulb. A man spoke through a deep yet peaceful, almost comforting tone. 

“It was about thirty four hundred years ago, give or take, when Jesus of Nazareth was able to make a dead man walk. It went down in history as a miracle. Ladies and gentlemen, let it be known that what you’re about to witness is nothing short of another miracle. Project Lazarus, attempt number seventy two.”

The man struggled to work an old, rusty lever. The screeching of the machinery was obstructed by the sound of crackling electricity which seemed to interfere with the recording. Static again. And then three blood-curdling screams, one after the other. It took half a minute for the screaming to stop, and even then, the man seemed to hesitate to speak again until the lingering echoes of the screams died out. 

“Thirty seconds of brain activity,” he clicked his lips and hesitated for a second. “A remarkable achievement, all things considered. Unfortunately, our test subjects don’t seem to be fit for these sorts of experiments anymore. Zero will bring me new subjects as soon as possible. I’m comfortable saying it won’t take more than a month until we can reliably start phase two. Dei Gratia.”

Another click. The cassette tape almost shot out of the Walkman. The woman took a permanent marker to it. Return to Amelie Harper.