Rocky

Quiet. That was the word I used to describe the island. If it even could be called that. It was more like a floating rock, out in the middle of the ocean. Somewhere in the Atlantic. That was all I knew.

It was isolated.

And that was all I needed.

The smell of salt filled the air, filled my lungs as I breathed it in, then out on a slow exhale. If I pretended enough, I could imagine that my family was here with me. Waiting inside the small house that sat just behind me, with its peeling baby blue paint that blended in with the sky on sunny days. Of course, those were rare out here. It always seemed to be perpetually cloudy, various shades of grey choking out the sun and its warm rays.

Besides, it was useless to think about them. They were a part of the old world. It only hurts to wish for things that could never exist. A thing of wants versus needs, grief or survival. I would like to keep sane for as long as I could, until the cans of food ran dry at least. Dying now seemed like such a waste. Especially since I put so much effort into surviving for this long. Far longer than anyone I knew of. The world needed some fixing. And they didn’t belong in the new age of humanity that was on the horizon.

A sigh escaped me. The sun was lowering itself back into the ground, bathing the clouds in vibrant oranges and pinks instead of its usual drabness. It made the water look like glittering jewels, scattered throughout in a messy array of colors.

It was beautiful. A small piece of serenity that I cherished every day.

I slowly turned away from the scene, before starting to walk towards the house. My footsteps were light, almost unheard as they brushed along the grass that tickled my bare feet with each step. The old, worn wood of the house groaned underneath me when I placed my weight on the stairs. They felt rough compared to the grass. It creaked as I walked up the stairs to the porch, finally meeting the door.

Unlike the rest of the house, it was a light yellow color. It reminded me of the sunflowers my mother used to plant in the flower beds every spring.

My fingers grasped the cold metal doorhandle, lingering for a second before turning it open. The door let out one short, high squeak. I gently shut it behind me, not bothering to lock it behind me. What was the point? It’s not like anyone could get in. Or like there would be anyone for me to worry about. Besides, the quiet was better. Quiet meant control.

I walked into the kitchen, opening the pantry to grab a can of pinto beans. My eyes did a quick catalog of all the food.

Six months.

I had six months of food.

Six more months until I would die.

The thought of my impending departure from the living used to bring me a sense of dread. Now, I felt nothing. It wasn't like I could do anything about it. Death was a natural thing when change was needed. I was smart enough to know that, unlike others.

I set the can on the counter, grabbing a can opener from the drawer beside me to crack it open. It opened with a small pop that filled the silence, a thin line of juice trailing down the side to pool on the counters. I grabbed a paper towel, wrapping it around the can before grabbing a fork and making my way to the dining room.

The table was small, only being able to have four chairs surround it and a small radio atop it. I sat down, feeling the muscles in my legs relax.

I stared at the radio.

It stared back. Tempting me.

I turned it on, despite knowing that there would be nothing but static.

Or, at least, I thought so.

A voice filled the room. A human voice. My heart lurched into my throat while I set down the can of pinto beans onto the table with a bang.

A person. A human. A survivor.

They were speaking fast, urgently. Their voice was desperate and pleading in a way I knew too well. From others and myself.

“P-please, if anyone is there, you have to know that-” they took a sharp breath. Allowing me to hear the distant screams in the audio.

They were running from them.

They were going to die.

The hope that had foolishly returned died in a beat of my foolish, foolish heart. If I could hear the monsters' screams, it was already too late.

A small sob escaped the voice.

“-the project, that one the government was talking about, before-” a gunshot echoed from the radio, and the voice let out a shaky gasp. “-before this all happened, before the monsters and the deaths and all of that!-”

I already knew where this was going. It made a pit open in my stomach.

No, a void with no end that took and took and took from me until all there was were my bones and brain.

“-the ‘special people’ thing, or whatever the hell it was, and that one lady-”

The sinking continued, now paired with a sense of total shock.

“-Jane Aursborough, yeah, and how they were talking about this project that could make like, superhumans?-” another gunshot, this time a lot closer sounding than before. The voice let out a bitter laugh.

“Yeah, well, she’s the reason why we're all in this goddamn mess! Her stupid little experiments went wrong, and-”.

I could hear the drumming of their feet against the ground. I could hear water rushing into my ears.

What?

“-and then these files said that the person-” they spat out the last word like it burned. “-mutated, and created these creatures that are killing all of us!”.

How… Do they know this?

A screech echoed out in the audio, followed by the voices' high pitched scream. They must be close. The mutated. Right on the person's heels.

I could hear their rapid breaths, panicked, exhausted. The loud stomping of feet and something not quite human right behind them.

“You must know the truth! Everyone needs to know what she did!” They shouted out, the volume of their voice making my ears ring like they were right next to me. “What she did-”.

A loud crunch sound. Followed by an ear piercing scream.

“NO! NO, NO, NO!”.

Whatever device they were using to broadcast the message fell out of their hands, clattering to the ground as loud, terror filled screams flowed through the audio.

The crunching of bones underneath razor sharp teeth, the squelch of blood and gore and whatever else the creature could tear apart. The sounds filled the little, baby blue house, such macabre contrasting with the innocent appearance of it.

Slowly, the screams turned to low pitched groans, then gurgles, then, nothing.

Complete silence.

I slowly turned off the radio, hands shaking slightly.

How did they know?

How did they find out what I had done?

How!

I didn’t tell anybody what I had done. Renowned scientist, Jane Aursborough, bringing forth the end of humanity. It was supposed to be a secret only I knew of.

So how did they find out?

Did they go into my office, search through my desk drawers and every locked filing cabinet? To try and find a cure for what I had created?

There was none to be found. I knew that.

I made sure of it.

I was a renowned scientist. I don’t make mistakes.

And how would anybody find out? Why would anybody think I would do something like this on purpose? End society and the world and everything as we all knew it?

Bring forth the destruction of the world we knew? The flawed, ugly, disgusting world we all lived in? Where everyone had such selfish desires, where it was always ‘me, me, me’!

It disgusted me.

It all was disgusting. The world needed a reset. To see why humans needed each other to survive.

And get rid of the ones who simply could not agree to this way of living. It’s my favor to humanity. To bring forth a new age of humans. Creating monsters that kill off those who try to survive alone. And reward the others that band together to fight them off.

A rocky start, but a beautiful finish. A diamond in the rough. It just needed a bit of polishing off before it could be perfect.

A quiet world. And soon, it would be.