Epilogue
All's Well That Ends
A single hand came out of the smoking chimney and landed on the rim, where it tightened until it turned white. The owner of the hand came up next, struggling because he only had one arm. The bloody stump was wrapped in his torn shirt, and he held it in the pit of his good arm. He rolled over the rim, and he came to rest on the ground, panting and sweating profusely.
The Eloi gathered around him. "H. George Wells? We could have sworn you would not come back. The Morlocks would surely have killed you."
"The killed Weena," Wells said. "I murdered my way out of there and killed every last one of them, but they still got Weena. And they almost got me." He held up his stump.
"What happened?"
His eyes narrowed, and one word escaped from between his clenched teeth: "ZIM."
He saw the phone booth nearby, and he started crawling towards it . . .
CRIS ZIM WILL RETURN IN . . . SOMEWHERE IN TIME!
