In the end it was the zombie earwigs

It would have been better if it had been butterflies. Marjorie loved butterflies. They were soft and lovely and flitted from flower to flower. Would being smothered by soft butterflies have been better though? Earwigs, on the other hand, were ugly and creepy. And had those nasty pincers. They did not flit. They scooted and scurried. And they killed a lot of folks. They killed her Marcos.

Marjorie was one of the few survivors of the past calamitous year who was now inhabiting a rusting old destroyer, a leftover from some long ago war. She spent her days walking the narrow corridors of the old ship and fingering the heart-shaped locket that lived next to her heart. Inside was all that remained of Marcos. It was a funny picture. They'd dashed into one of those photo booths on the boardwalk on a whim.

"Oh, Marcos," she'd wheedled, "come on. It'll be fun." They'd made silly faces and laughed. It had been such a fun day that summer day. Marjorie had decided to cut out one of those goofy pictures to put in her golden locket, the one that now held her heart.

She remembered the first time she'd seen one of the unusual bugs-the mutated earwigs. Marjorie had been cleaning the bathroom. Such a mundane job. As she lifted the tissue box an earwig dropped to the floor, oh ish, she thought to herself. She hated them. It was unusual to see one in the summer. They tended to show up in winter. Marcos said it was because the frost drove them indoors.

She didn't panic, what would be the point? As she'd done many times before, she got it with a tissue and washed it down the bathroom sink drain. She let the water run for a couple minutes then put the plug in-just to be on the safe side.

Her final cleaning task was to shake out the rugs. When she was done and had replaced them on the floor she unplugged the sink. She turned to wipe her hands on the towel and a tiny movement caught the corner of her eye. The earwig had crawled up the pipe and was creeping around in the sink. She screeched.

"Marcos!" Apparently the tenor of her voice caught his attention because he came at a run. "What is it?" She pointed and shivered. Marjorie explained about flushing it down the drain with water and plugging the sink. But he was not amused.

"Oh for pete's sake, it's just a bug. Use a tissue and kill it and throw it away." He left the room and there she was. Alone with a stupid earwig. She gave a big sigh, got two tissues and scooped up the offending bug, gave the tissue bundle an extra hard squeeze and threw it in the trash can in the laundry room. Then forgot about it.

As Marjorie headed up one of the ship's ladders to go out on deck for some air, she thought back to that same afternoon.

Marjorie had totally forgotten about the earwig. She brought the dirty clothes basket into the laundry room and was about to set it on the floor when she saw it. There was an earwig on the floor. It had a bit of tissue attached to one leg. She screamed for Marcos.

Shivering once she came out onto the deck, Marjorie wasn't sure if it was due to the cold sea air or the memories.

The news media and the scientists and the various other pundits all said they thought the apocalypse would come via a great war or pestilence caused by microbes. Or maybe even by an asteroid. Not by bugs. No one thought an insect in and of itself would decimate the world, not just of people, but of all other animal life. And, at the rate they were spreading, most of the plant life on the planet would fall to their voracious feeding. And the best scientific minds couldn't seem to understand how the insects had mutated. The reason they were given the name "zombie earwigs" was because they wouldn't die. Not by smashing. Not by insecticide. Not by fire or bombing. They just kept reproducing and massing.

She leaned against the bulkhead of the ship and gazed out over the sea. Marjorie had no idea where she was or where the ship was headed. She held no hope that the ship would find safe harbor. She had tried to find understanding in the news reports but nothing made sense to her. All she could grasp was that one day Marcos had come home and told her to pack a bag and come with him. Even though she was frightened she'd asked no questions. They drove for two days until reaching the port city. Officials were checking people and hurrying people. Marcos pushed her into the crowd at the dock and vowed to be back. He had never come back. When the ship had been loaded with people and supplies it put out to sea.

All she knew was that for now, for today, she lived. There were no zombie bugs aboard. And, as she opened her heart-shaped locket and looked at the funny picture it held, she knew that she had her Marcos with her. To her that was all that mattered.