Paradigm

The Isle was the one last sanctuary—or, at least, that’s what my mother told me before the Rot got to her too. It had been so innocuous, a walk through our once-green paradise, when she fell and scraped her knee.

Her eyes, wild with panic, had told me the truth before any words escaped.

Run. For god’s sake, Isolde, run!

That was the last time I saw my mother before I made my way to the decrepit castle up on the hill. I crossed the drawbridge and tried not to cry as I drew it back up so nothing else could follow me.

Those who had the Rot could not pass water. That was why the Isle was probably the safest place left to humanity.

But I was the lone survivor. The Rot had not gotten to me yet.

As I thought of my mother—left to fall into insanity in the elements—there was yet another sorrow that came to my mind.

Her heart-shaped locket, with the last pictures ever taken of my father and little brother, had gone with her. I hadn’t even thought of it till I was safe back in the castle.

But now it was lost forever, the path so many things in this world had taken.

*

Day 13

I don’t know why I’m wasting the paper, but here I am. I feel like time is slowly beginning to lose all meaning for me.

I keep dreaming of Mother and how one mistake cost me the last love I had in my life. I see her eyes pleading with me to run. But in my dreams her eyes are accusing.

I should have been able to save her.

Father was supposed to find the Cure. Then, after, it was Rykke’s job.

And then, when it was left to just me and Mother, we wasted our days trying to live a life undisturbed by the Rot.

I’m so lost, I don’t know what to do.

I can’t stay here forever. The food stores will run out eventually. Father only planned for three years. Two years have gone by in a flash.

I feel like a princess in a fairy tale, awaiting the prince who will come and make things right.

Oh. My candle is running low. It’s time to try and sleep. I hope I don’t have another nightmare.

*

But it seemed there was still room for surprise, even in a world tilted by chaos.

At first, looking through the binoculars, I thought I was imagining something in the morning fog. But, no, it was a boat I spotted from the watchtower. My heart raced as fast as a rabbit running loose in a cottage garden.

It wasn’t the military—their boats were marked with emblems from their affiliations—but the four people who disembarked made a cold sweat build under my jacket.

Three men, one woman. One of the men looked young enough to be my older brother. They were all dressed in gray fatigues, probably standard-issue from wherever they had come from.

One man, bearing a scraggly beard, lifted his head towards the castle, and I ducked out of sight even though I knew I probably couldn’t be seen from such a distance.

What was I to do?

I wished Mother was here. A sob built in my throat.

But no. I shook my head. I wouldn’t break down in tears.

As long as the Rot hadn’t affected them yet, then perhaps they were more allies than enemies.

*

By the time the sun was at its midpoint in the sky, I stood by the lever to the drawbridge. My hands shook as I slowly began to let the bridge come down. A quick glimpse out of my binoculars told me the newcomers were arriving faster than I had anticipated.

I took a deep breath as I latched my machete in the sheath at my hip. Then I walked out into the light and awaited the people I hoped would be able to help me.

The man who was probably still a teen spotted me first—and he raised a gun, the barrel pointing straight at me. The others proceeded to do the same.

“Please,” I said, holding up my hands, “I’m not going to harm you.”

“She has the marks,” the oldest man said, but the woman’s eyes narrowed in my direction.

“But she doesn’t have the madness,” the woman said, her voice clear to my ears despite the still-considerable distance.

“Please,” I said again. I tried not to think of what they saw—a girl whose skin had run gray with dark spots, her hair nearly nonexistent because it had fallen out in clumps, her body more skeleton than a healthy form. But my eyes were still vivid green, not gone to the overwhelming dilation of those who had the Rot.

“What are you?” the youngest man asked, a look of disgust on his face.

“I’m a survivor,” I said, “the only one. Please. Lower your weapons. I need your help.”

Miraculously, it took only a few more moments of stillness before they complied.

*

Once we were all settled in the castle, a wary truce silently commenced.

“My father was trying to find the Cure,” I said, “so he infected me and my brother with the Rot—the sickness, as you call it. But I didn’t lose my mind. I can cross water. I can still eat normal food too. My brother—he wasn’t so lucky, though he lasted longer than my father did.”

“Were you by yourself all this time?” the man with the beard asked. He had kind eyes. He reminded me of my father.

I thought of Mother, but I wouldn’t cry in front of these strangers. They hadn’t yet earned my trust. “I had my mother with me. But she—she injured herself, and she knew she wouldn’t last long. I don’t know if she’s still out there or not.”

The young man who had pulled the gun on me first laid down something on the table. I couldn’t tell what it was in the dim light. “We found this,” he said, his voice husky. “Was it hers?”

His hand departed, and the outline of a heart met my eyes. This time, it took everything I had not to start sobbing.

“Yes,” I said, my voice nearly breaking. I didn't even try to reach for the locket.

Gone. My mother was truly gone.

I had been mourning all this time, but I still had held onto a flicker of hope.

“You said your father was looking for the Cure,” the woman said. “Is there any way we can see what he left behind? His research, perhaps?”

I closed my eyes. “Yes, that's what he would have wanted,” I said, even though I no longer felt any notion of hope for myself.

What would transpire next—it was for these people to find and use to build a new world from the ashes.

I was just a cog in this one last experiment for humanity’s final chance at existence.