Nick Cracknell - The Quiet Apocalypse [= Island Zero]

I don’t know exactly how long I have been here, but it is at least four days.

That’s how long ago I woke up anyway.

If you are reading this it might be that you have found me alive, or that I am long dead and this is the only record of what went on here.

Like everything else around me in this place it is, currently, totally unknown.

Indeed, I may not know exactly how long I have been here, but at least I do know where ‘here’ is. Or at least where all the signs point to it being…

According to the literature I have seen so far, comprising mainly of tourist brochures and activity leaflets advertising pursuits like kids’ waterparks, camel trekking in the Timanfaya National Park and car hire, I am in the holiday resort of Playa Blanca on the island of Lanzarote.

At first I couldn’t be totally sure as I couldn’t get out of the hotel grounds before it started to get dark, and I definitely didn’t want to start exploring after hours in my condition.

Speaking of which, my head wounds have been healing remarkably. There seems to be no lasting damage other than some yellow bruising around my eyes and nose and a crusting of dried blood at the top of my brow where skin meets hairline. I surmise that the cut there must have been made with some form of blunt instrument, possibly a wooden rolling pin or baseball bat or something, as the skin is split evenly with no ragged edges, and there appear to be no other signs of trauma apart from a raging headache.

I have no idea how I received the injury, but I don’t think it was self-inflicted. I don’t remember being so drunk that I forgot the events of the night before, which leads me to believe I was attacked in some way, or perhaps involved in some kind of accident which caused me to experience a significant period of unconsciousness.

Depending on how long I was out, I may have been here for days or even weeks, although I sense it is a lot less as I don’t appear to have lost any weight. I certainly didn’t feel excessively hungry upon waking, but my thirst was unslakeable.

I have also attempted to think as rationally as possible in order to fully grasp the dilemma in which I find myself. Said dilemma can be broken down into the following criteria:

I am seemingly alone. I have seen no other signs of life in the five days of my sojourn thus far. No people, no animals, not even aircraft overhead.

I woke up at the THB Sun Royal aparthotel in the resort of Playa Blanca, on the southern tip of Lanzarote. And that is where I have remained so far. The reason being that, although I am almost certainly the only person here, there is an ample supply of food and water (and alcohol) in the store and in the canteen.

I am seemingly in sound body and mind.

I have no idea how I came to be here, or why.

The first day I spent taking in my surroundings was quite informative. After the initial confusion of waking up in a foreign environment, with a visible injury and no idea as to how or why I was there, I went about establishing how good or bad my circumstances were.

The biggest advantage is that all the electrics are still on. I am able to boil water, cook food and see in the dark. The bad thing is none of the televisions (or at least the ones I have tried so far) seem to be receiving a broadcast of any sort. Nor is the computer I located in the reception area of the hotel complex able to connect to the internet.

The clocks have all frozen at 2.04. My watch also has frozen, and the analogue date function has stuck on the number ‘4’. Presumably then, whatever happened here did so at 2.04 either am or pm on the 4th of July.

It must be July, as my last memory was driving home from work at around 6pm on the 3rd July, and unless I was unconscious for over four weeks and somehow kept alive then it is unlikely to be August…

Trying to think rationally then, it seems I was therefore only unconscious for, say, 24 hours. Which would make sense due to my aforementioned lack of hunger and wound condition.

Taking that into account I woke up here at around dusk on 4th July, a matter of hours after the events which caused the complete abandonment or evacuation of every living thing in this resort.

That is a lot of presumptions, but presume is all I can really do at the moment. I have often found that my first presumption is the most accurate, so I am going purely on gut feeling and those facts that have presented themselves thus far.

For the sake of argument, if we say the day I awoke was the 4th of July and that was Day #1, then today would be Day #5. The 8th of July.

But back to the start.

I awoke just as the sun was going down in the sky, on a bed in one of the many apartments that comprise this resort. A flicker of a battery symbol with the figure 98% was emblazoned in front of my eyes; like the effect of looking at a bright light for too long and then shutting your eyes and still being able to see it.

The pain was intense, and as the numbers in front of my eyes faded I sensed something was amiss. I felt injured. My head was blazing and my eyesight blurred, and it took significant effort to stand up and ascertain where I was.

The apartment was, I have since learned, like every other of the 300-odd ones present. All are painted white, all contain a communal sitting room/kitchen, a bathroom and a bedroom. The room had been cleaned, with fresh towels laid out and two bottles of cold mineral water in the fridge. I instantly gulped one down and almost immediately brought it back up. It tasted divine, but my head throbbed in protest at its iciness and my stomach was completely unprepared for the rush of liquid. I went into the bathroom and caught sight of myself in the mirror. The bandage around my head was fresh and I could see no blood leaking through anywhere so I decided to remove it.

The linen stuck slightly as the last of it unwound, pulling a few strands of hair and some dried brown blood with it, and exposed the gash that had obviously rendered me oblivious. It looked clean and uninfected, so I decided to leave it exposed to the air rather than reapply the bandage. There were no sutures so I assumed it wasn’t that serious, although I could feel my brain had taken a hell of a shaking inside my skull.

The main door to the apartment was closed but unlocked, with no key in sight, and on stepping out I found myself on a small patio looking out onto a square of identical terraced apartments arranged around a central swimming pool that was shaped like a misshapen ‘B’.

I am, by nature, cautious to a fault, and perhaps it was the sheer silence around me that caused me to stop myself just as I was about to holler a loud ‘Hello?’

There was utter silence.

And I mean utter .

Not even a breath of wind. I knew then and there that I was completely alone in this environment, as no human could ever exist in that sort of absence of noise. Humans make noise, therefore they are. Thus I instantly discarded my first hopeful notion that this was some kind of surprise party, and that my friends and family were going to leap out from various apartments or behind the tall silent palm trees that were spaced evenly around the pool and grounds.

The pervading silence drew me on. The pool was as still as you would expect without a breeze to disturb it. I resisted the urge to leap in and splash about like crazy, but I did test the temperature with my foot.

Oh, before I forget, I was also completely naked and strangely undisturbed by this fact.

The water was warm and smelled faintly of chlorine. It was clear and clean. Nothing unusual. I giddily looked around for signs of life, already knowing I would find none, and took in my surroundings.