The Quiet Singularity
By Olivia Salter
Word Count: 4,165
Jason thought silence was the final truth of the world. But when he heard her laughter threading through the ruins like a ghost, he realized he wasn’t prepared for another truth.
***
His worn boots crunched across the broken pavement, his breath shallow, his thoughts a blur. The city was dying around him—its skeletal buildings and decayed structures mirroring the hollowed-out emptiness he felt inside. He wandered aimlessly, a man without a purpose beyond survival. Scavenge. Sleep. Repeat. But today—today was different.
There was a sound.
It wasn’t the usual wind or the creak of decaying wood. It was something more—something... human. A laugh. Soft, almost muffled, yet unmistakable.
Jason froze. His pulse quickened, his senses snapping to attention. His mind spun. He was hearing things. He couldn’t be the only one left. Could he?
He pressed a hand to his chest, steadying himself, as his heart hammered in his ears. He took a step forward, breath catching. Another laugh—this time louder, clearer—cut through the stillness. He couldn't be imagining it.
“Hello?” he called, his voice cracking in the unnatural quiet. His throat felt raw. He hadn’t spoken to another person in so long.
The sound stopped abruptly.
The seconds stretched into eternity. He held his breath, waiting. But no other sounds came, just the hollow echoes of his own voice. He took a few tentative steps forward, his hand wrapped around the handle of a hunting knife, but it was as much a comfort as it was a reminder of the world he no longer understood.
“Is anyone there?”
Then, from the darkness of a ruined library, he saw her. A figure, crouched behind a pile of books. She hadn’t moved when he spoke. She simply stared, her eyes wide, unblinking.
Jason took a hesitant step closer, his heart racing. He was afraid to blink, afraid that if he did, she would vanish into the air like a dream. But she didn’t move, and after a long, tense moment, she spoke, her voice surprisingly steady.
“Who are you?” She asked, her gaze cautious, but not afraid.
Jason didn’t know how to answer at first. The words caught in his throat, and the enormity of the situation hit him all at once. He wasn’t alone. “Jason,” he finally said, his voice rough with disbelief.
She nodded, still watching him carefully. “Cora.”
The two of them stood in silence, neither knowing what to say. It was as though the very air between them hummed with tension, a fragile thread stretching out across the void of years spent alone. But eventually, Jason broke the silence, his voice shaky. “I—thought I was the last one.”
Cora's expression softened, but only slightly. “So did I,” she said, her voice quiet. “But I’m not.”
***
Cora led Jason through the ruins, her movements swift and sure, as though she had lived in this broken world long enough to understand its rhythms. She didn’t speak much, only guiding him toward the old subway tunnels beneath the city. Jason followed, still reeling, his thoughts racing to process the fact that another human being existed after all this time.
The tunnels were damp, but there was something warm about them—an odd kind of life that seemed to pulse through the air. They were far from the barren desolation of the surface. Here, the faint smell of earth and green things filled the air, the soft hum of machines running in the background. Small vegetable gardens had been cultivated in the shadows, and shelves of canned goods lined the walls.
Cora took him deeper, through a series of chambers that looked like they had been carefully fashioned into a home. It wasn’t much, but it was hers—her sanctuary in a world gone cold. She offered him a seat by a small stove, a comforting warmth that contrasted the cold, dead world above.
“You live here?” Jason asked, his voice thick with awe.
Cora gave a small, almost bitter laugh. “Doesn’t look like much, does it?” She said, stirring a pot of something that smelled faintly of herbs and broth. “But it works. Better than the surface.”
Jason glanced around, still unsure whether this was real. “How long have you been down here?”
“Long enough,” Cora replied, not meeting his gaze. She hesitated, then added, “I used to think it would be better to be alone. Safer. But... it’s not. I’m not sure anymore.”
Jason didn’t respond right away. Instead, he leaned back, staring at the flickering flame from the stove. He couldn’t stop thinking about how strange it was to hear another voice, to be in the presence of someone who wasn’t just a figment of his imagination. He had spent so many years alone that he didn’t know what to make of this sudden shift. But one thing was clear: he wasn’t ready to go back to silence, to the cold world he had known.
***
In the days that followed, Cora became more distant. She went out on her own, slipping away in the early morning hours and returning long after the sun had set. Jason found himself watching her, his curiosity piqued by her sudden need for solitude. He didn’t know what to make of it—whether she was just adjusting to the new reality, or whether she was hiding something from him.
One evening, as the night settled in, he decided to confront her.
“Where do you go when you leave?” Jason asked, his voice low, almost hesitant.
Cora didn’t answer at first. She was at the stove again, stirring something, but her movements had become stiff, mechanical. Finally, she spoke, her voice tinged with something Jason couldn’t quite place.
“Scavenging,” she said, as if it were the simplest answer in the world.
Jason didn’t believe her. He’d seen how she moved, how she looked around before she left each time, as if expecting someone—or something—else. “You don’t have to go so far,” he pressed, his voice thick with uncertainty. “There’s nothing left out there.”
Cora’s eyes hardened, her lips pressing into a thin line. “You think it’s just the two of us now, don’t you?” She said, the words almost like a challenge. “You think I’m doing this for food, or supplies?”
Jason blinked, confused by her sudden outburst. “What else would you be doing?”
Her gaze softened, but only just for a moment. “I’m protecting you,” she whispered, more to herself than to him.
Jason’s heart sank. “Protecting me?”
Cora took a step back, her eyes distant. “You’re not the only one who’s been alone, Jason. There are others. They’re out there. And they’ll take everything. Don’t trust anyone. Not even me.”
***
It was only days later that Jason’s suspicions were confirmed. He followed her one night, unable to shake the feeling that something was wrong. Cora had warned him to stay behind, but his need to understand what was going on was too strong to ignore.
He trailed her through the ruins, his steps light, careful. She led him to the old hospital on the outskirts of the city—one of the few buildings still standing with working power. He watched as she slipped inside through a back door, her figure disappearing into the shadows.
Jason waited, then carefully approached the door. It was locked, but his fingers worked quickly, and soon he was inside, moving silently through the dark hallways. What he found left him breathless.
The hospital was full of people—alive. Monitors flickered, their screens filled with images of the city. The hum of machines filled the air, and voices echoed in the distance. People were surviving. They were living.
He couldn’t believe it.
“They’re alive,” Jason whispered to himself, stepping into the room where Cora had gone. His voice was trembling with disbelief.
Cora appeared in the doorway, her face pale, her eyes wide with shock. “I told you to stay behind,” she said, her voice tight.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Jason demanded, his voice shaking with a mix of anger and confusion.
“Because they’ll take everything,” Cora said, her voice barely above a whisper. “You think they’re helping us? They’ll take what we have and leave us with nothing.”
Jason’s heart twisted in his chest. “But they’re people, Cora! They’re alive.”
“I don’t trust them,” Cora replied, her eyes hard. “I don’t trust anyone anymore.”
***
Days passed, and the tension between them grew. Jason found himself torn between his longing for connection and the growing realization that the world was much more dangerous than he’d ever imagined. Cora’s warning echoed in his mind, but he couldn’t ignore the truth of what he’d seen. People—real people—were out there. And maybe, just maybe, there was hope for something more.
One evening, as they sat together in the dim light of their small sanctuary, Jason finally spoke up. “We have to reach out to them."
Cora’s eyes flared with alarm as she turned to him, her posture stiffening like a wound-up spring ready to snap. “No,” she said, her voice clipped, her gaze unwavering. “I’ve told you—there’s no trusting them.”
Jason’s heart hammered in his chest, the weight of her words pressing down on him like a heavy stone. But he couldn’t shake the image of the hospital—of the people who had managed to survive, who had found a way to rebuild what had been lost. There had to be more to this world than the isolation they’d lived in. Hadn’t there?
“They’re not like the others,” Jason said, more to convince himself than her. “We’ve been alone too long, Cora. I can’t live like this anymore. I won’t.”
The silence that followed was deafening. Cora’s lips tightened, but she didn’t argue further. Instead, she lowered her gaze, staring at her hands as if she were weighing the cost of her next words.
“You’ll be risking more than just your life if you go,” she said quietly, almost as if she were speaking to herself. “You’ll risk everything we’ve built here. You’ll risk losing your soul.”
Jason swallowed, his throat dry. “Maybe I’ve already lost it,” he whispered.
Cora’s sharp intake of breath sliced through the thick tension between them. She looked up at him then, her eyes searching his face, as if trying to find something she had once known. A softness flickered across her features—something vulnerable that she quickly buried under the weight of years of solitude.
“There’s nothing left out there, Jason,” she said, her voice shaky now, the anger dissolving into something fragile and raw. “The world... the people who are left... they’ve all changed. There’s nothing to go back to. You think you’ll find some utopia, some place where everything is right again? You won’t. It’s all broken, just like everything else.”
Jason could see the fear behind her words, the fear that had kept her locked away in the safety of her small world beneath the earth. She was afraid of what they might find outside, afraid that opening up would shatter whatever fragile peace they had left.
“I know,” Jason replied, his voice steady despite the storm raging in his chest. “But if I don’t try... I’ll never know. And I’ll spend the rest of my life wondering what might’ve been.”
Cora stood up abruptly, walking to the far end of the room. She ran her hands through her hair in frustration, as though she were trying to shake off something heavy and inescapable. The silence between them stretched on, but this time, it wasn’t comfortable. It was full of unspoken words, regret, and unresolved tension.
Finally, Cora turned back to him, her expression unreadable. “If you go, I can’t follow you. I won’t. Not yet.”
Jason’s heart sank at the finality of her words. But he knew, deep down, that it was a decision she had already made. She wasn’t ready to take that step—she wasn’t ready to believe in the possibility of something more. And that was okay. He had to respect that, even if it tore him apart.
“I understand,” he said quietly. His eyes met hers, and for a moment, the weight of everything that had passed between them hung in the air, thick and suffocating. “But I can’t stay here with you, Cora. Not like this.”
Without another word, he turned and walked toward the door, his boots scraping the floor with each heavy step. Cora’s soft voice followed him, calling after him in a tone he couldn’t quite place.
“Jason, wait.”
He hesitated, pausing at the doorway but not looking back.
Cora was standing there now, her face pale, her expression torn. “Please... be careful,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “The world isn’t what you think it is.”
Jason nodded, the weight of her words sinking into him like a stone in water. He didn’t know what the world was anymore. He didn’t know what he was hoping for, or what he would find when he stepped out into the desolation. But he couldn’t stay in this cage of doubt and fear. He couldn’t live another day wondering if there was still hope.
“I will,” he said, his voice firm. “I’ll be back. I promise.”
***
The journey was harder than Jason had anticipated. The desolation above the ground stretched out endlessly, an expanse of crumbling buildings, shattered streets, and remnants of a life long past. He traveled by instinct, following nothing but the fragile whispers of hope in his chest. Each step felt heavy, like he was trudging through a world that had long forgotten the meaning of light.
As he ventured further, the remnants of humanity began to appear. At first, it was small signs—abandoned vehicles with remnants of lives lived in haste, empty houses with the scent of old decay. The deeper he ventured, the more he saw: broken homes, abandoned shelters, long-forgotten memories of a world that no longer existed.
But then, just as he was about to give in to despair, he saw it—movement in the distance.
A small group of survivors, clothed in tattered remnants of once-valuable possessions, scavenging for anything they could find. They didn’t see him at first. But Jason stood frozen, watching, his heart racing in his chest.
He wanted to turn back. He wanted to retreat to the relative safety of Cora’s sanctuary, to the peace that lay beneath the surface. But something inside him—something deeper—urged him forward. He wasn’t going back.
He stepped into their line of sight, and for the first time in years, he spoke to someone who wasn’t just a memory or a shadow. The first words he said were simple—an introduction, a tentative question.
“Are you... are you still alive?” he asked, his voice hoarse from disuse.
One of them turned, a woman with dark eyes and a tired face. She stared at him for a long moment, her gaze assessing, cautious. She didn’t speak at first, but then, after what felt like an eternity, she nodded.
“We’re alive,” she said, her voice quiet but strong. “But we don’t have much. You’re welcome to join us. If you can survive the world we’ve made.”
The words struck Jason like a slap, but they carried with them a seed of something he hadn’t felt in so long—hope. He wasn’t the last one. There was something left. Maybe it wasn’t perfect. Maybe it was broken, just like everything else. But it was real. And that was enough.
***
When Jason returned to the underground sanctuary, it was days later, and Cora was waiting for him. He didn’t tell her where he'd been, or what he’d found. But there was no need to. She could see the change in him—the glimmer of something that hadn’t been there before.
He sat down next to her, the familiar warmth of the stove crackling in the silence. For a moment, neither of them spoke. But then Jason broke the stillness, his voice soft but full of conviction.
“I met them, Cora,” he said, his eyes shining with something she hadn’t seen before. “There are others out there. People who are trying to survive. They’re making something—something real. We’re not the last ones. There’s hope.”
Cora’s eyes softened, a flicker of understanding passing between them. She had known, in the depths of her heart, that there was more. She had just been too afraid to believe it.
“You didn’t come back empty-handed,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
“No,” Jason replied, reaching for her hand. “I didn’t. But we can’t do it alone. I need you, Cora. We need each other. We can rebuild something. Together.”
Cora looked down at their intertwined hands, then up into his eyes. She didn’t say anything at first, but her fingers tightened around his, as if she had made a decision, a promise, to herself and to him.
“Together,” she said, and for the first time in a long while, the world didn’t feel so empty.
New Ending with a Twist:
When Jason returns to Cora, hope shining in his eyes, he describes the small group of survivors he found. He speaks of their resourcefulness and their desire to rebuild. But as he tells her about them, Cora’s expression changes from fear to something darker—a mix of anger and guilt.
“They’re alive because of me,” she says, her voice trembling but resolute.
Jason freezes. “What do you mean?”
Cora stands, her shadow stretching across the room. “Before I found this sanctuary, I was with a group. I thought they were my family, my tribe. But when resources ran low, I made a choice—a selfish, terrible choice.” She pauses, the weight of her confession pressing on her shoulders. “I sabotaged them. Led them into a trap and left them to die while I escaped. I thought they were all gone.”
Jason stares at her, his mind reeling. “You... you abandoned them?”
“I did worse than that,” she admits, her voice cracking. “And if those are the same people you found... they won’t forgive me. They’ll never forgive me.”
Jason’s stomach churns as the truth sinks in. The people he met—who had welcomed him cautiously, shared their meager resources, and trusted him—might be the same ones who had been betrayed by the woman he now trusted.
“What are you going to do?” he asks, his voice barely audible.
Cora steps closer, her eyes dark and unreadable. “If they find out I’m alive, they’ll come for me. They’ll come for us. You have to decide, Jason. Do you want to bring them here and risk everything? Or do you want to survive—just the two of us?”
Jason looks at her, torn between the fragile hope he found with the survivors and the haunting truth of Cora’s past. The choice isn’t just about survival anymore—it’s about who he can trust, and whether hope can truly exist in a world built on betrayal.
As he turns toward the door, the flickering light of the sanctuary grows dimmer, leaving him to grapple with a decision that could shape the fate of what remains of humanity.
***
Jason stood at the threshold, his hand hovering over the cold metal latch of the door. His mind was a tempest of conflicting emotions—anger, sorrow, and an inexplicable need to understand. He turned back to Cora, her face pale and shadowed, eyes glistening with the weight of her confession.
“Why didn’t you tell me before?” he asked, his voice tight with frustration.
“Because I didn’t want to lose you,” she replied, stepping closer, her hands trembling at her sides. “You’re the only thing that’s kept me sane in this hell. I couldn’t risk... I couldn’t bear the thought of you leaving, Jason.”
Jason clenched his fists, the ache in his chest almost unbearable. “You didn’t just leave them—you betrayed them. And now you’re asking me to carry that with you?”
Cora’s gaze dropped to the floor, but she quickly snapped it back up, defiant. “I’m asking you to understand. To see that the world wasn’t kind to me, just as it wasn’t kind to you. I did what I had to do to survive.”
“Did you?” Jason’s voice rose, anger breaking through the calm facade he had been trying to maintain. “Or did you choose the easy way out?”
Her face hardened. “You weren’t there, Jason. You don’t know what it was like.”
The silence stretched between them, broken only by the distant hum of the generator. Jason turned back toward the door, his fingers brushing the latch. He thought of the survivors—of the woman with the weary eyes, the child clutching a faded teddy bear, the man who had clapped him on the back and said, ‘You’re not alone anymore.’ They had shared their meager rations with him, trusted him, welcomed him.
What would they say if he brought Cora to them? If they saw the face of the person who had left them to die?
“I can’t keep this from them,” he said finally, his voice low but firm. “They deserve to know the truth.”
Cora’s face crumpled, and for the first time, tears streaked her cheeks. “And when they find out? What do you think they’ll do to me, Jason? What do you think they’ll do to us?”
***
Jason stared at her, the enormity of the decision pressing down on him. He could leave her behind, return to the survivors, and tell them everything. Or he could try to bridge the impossible gap between the past and the fragile hope of the future. But no matter what he chose, there would be consequences—lives forever changed by his actions.
Taking a deep breath, he turned fully to face her. “If we’re going to have any chance at surviving this, you need to come with me and face them. Whatever happens, we face it together.”
Cora’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You’d do that? After what I told you?”
“I don’t know if I can forgive you,” he admitted. “But I also can’t leave you here to rot in guilt and fear. If there’s any hope for us—for anyone—it’s out there. We either fix what’s broken or we’re no better than the ruins we live in.”
For a moment, Cora looked like she might argue. But then her shoulders sagged, and she gave a small, shaky nod. “Alright,” she said. “Together.”
***
When they reached the survivors’ settlement, the tension was intense. The small group, huddled around a fire, looked up at their arrival. Jason stepped forward first, his hands raised in a gesture of peace.
“I brought someone with me,” he said, his voice steady but loud enough to carry. “Someone you know.”
The air seemed to freeze as Cora stepped out of the shadows. Gasps and murmurs rippled through the group. The woman with the weary eyes stood abruptly, her face contorting with recognition.
“You,” she hissed, her voice trembling with rage. “You left us. You—”
“I did,” Cora interrupted, her voice breaking. “And I’ve regretted it every single day. I don’t expect forgiveness. But I’m here to face what I’ve done.”
The group erupted into chaos—shouting, accusations, tears. Jason stood by, his heart pounding as he watched the fragile hope he’d found unravel. But then the child—no more than seven—stepped forward, clutching her teddy bear. She looked up at Cora with wide, solemn eyes.
“Are you sorry?” she asked softly.
Cora dropped to her knees, tears streaming down her face. “Yes,” she whispered. “I’m so, so sorry.”
The silence that followed was deafening. Finally, the man who had welcomed Jason placed a hand on the child’s shoulder and spoke.
“We’ve all done things we’re not proud of,” he said, his voice rough but steady. “The question is, what do we do now?”
***
It wasn’t easy. Trust was slow to build, and wounds from the past didn’t heal overnight. But Cora worked tirelessly to prove herself, scavenging supplies, protecting the group, and sharing everything she had. And though Jason’s heart still ached with doubt, he saw glimpses of the person she was trying to become.
Together, they began to rebuild—not just the remnants of a broken world, but the fragile bonds of trust and community. And as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, and the months turned into years, hope began to take root in the ashes of their past.
The world was still fractured, but for the first time in years, it felt like something worth saving.
