After a whole year, Darius Quinn is finally going back to Mahana Island, the place that had been both heaven and hell to him.
It was the island where he was born. Where he grew up barefoot and free, surrounded by the laughter of his family, the warmth of home, and the calm rhythm of waves brushing the shore. He remembered his mother's smile, his father's steady hand, and his older sister's teasing laugh as clearly as he remembered the smell of the sea.
Mahana was peace.
Mahana was happiness.
Mahana was home.
It was there he first fell in love, the kind of love that doesn't fade with time, the kind that etches itself into your soul, even when everything else falls apart. He had friends who meant something, friends who stood by him in joy and in war. He served the nation proudly, wearing the uniform not just with honor, but with purpose. He led his comrades into battle, earned their trust, and carved victory after victory into the history of the island.
But everything changed.
A year ago, the outbreak began. And the paradise he once knew was turned into a blood-soaked nightmare.
What's worse than death?
Killing the people you love with your own hands.
The hands he once used to protect, to hold, to carry, now stained with the blood of those very people. His comrades, his friends, even his own family… twisted into something inhuman. Not just mindless, but hungry. Stripped of emotion. Driven only by the craving for flesh and blood.
They didn't recognize him anymore. They didn't even see him. They charged with blank eyes and snarling mouths, and he had to make a choice, let them eat him alive, or kill them to set them free.
He chose to survive.
But survival didn't mean peace.
It meant guilt. It meant memory. It meant carrying their faces with him every night like a curse stitched into his soul.
Darius Quinn, once an elite soldier, once a son of Mahana, was forced to kill the very people who made that island worth living for.
"I understand how you feel, officer," Colonel Glenn said, his voice low but steady. "If we had any other choice, we wouldn't be sending you back there. But you're the best option we have, and we can't afford to fail this mission. The fate of the nation depends on it."
He paused briefly, then continued with quiet intensity, "Your only mission is to infiltrate the camp without being detected by the Cravings and retrieve the prototype cure. That's the priority. There might be a few survivors, but they're secondary. The cure comes first."
Darius narrowed his eyes, tension written across his face. "I don't understand, Colonel. Didn't the government already authorize bombing the island and everything on it? What changed?"
"Yes, that was the plan," Glenn said, exhaling slowly. "Until recently."
He stepped forward, voice grim.
"This is confidential information, but I must tell you. We discovered that all the patients and doctors at Global Hospital, which is on the mainland turned into Cravings. We managed to eliminate everyone inside, but it confirmed something we feared: there might be more infected hiding elsewhere across the mainland."
Darius stiffened. "How? I thought we cut off every route to and from Mahana Island. There shouldn't have been any way for the infection to spread."
"Exactly," Glenn said, eyes darkening. "That's what we thought. The Cravings don't have minds, they can't fly planes, steer boats, or navigate. And they sure as hell can't swim across open ocean. But somehow, they reached the mainland."
"We're still investigating how. But it doesn't matter right now. What matters is the cure. If there are more of them already spreading on the mainland, we need a way to stop this before it becomes unstoppable."
He looked Darius square in the eyes.
"You know that island better than anyone. You've survived what no one else could. That makes you the only one we can trust to go in, retrieve the cure, and come back alive."
A heavy silence settled in the room.
Then Glenn added, almost quietly, "This isn't just about Mahana anymore. This is about saving what's left of the world."
Darius stood still, eyes fixed on the map projected across the table, Mahana Island circled in red, like a bleeding wound from the past.
He didn't say anything at first. The silence stretched between him and Colonel Glenn, filled only by the low hum of the base's fluorescent lights and the ghosts screaming in Darius's memory.
Then finally, he exhaled.
"I'll do it," he said quietly. His voice wasn't loud, but it was firm. "If there's even a chance this cure can stop what's coming... then I'll go back."
Colonel Glenn nodded, the weight of that decision settling between them.
"You won't be going in alone," Glenn said. "We're sending you in with nine other operatives men and women handpicked for this mission. Some of the best we have."
Darius gave a small nod, his eyes still on the map.
"There's something else," Glenn continued. "As you already know, the Cravings are mindless… but their senses, especially hearing, are heightened. Sound is like blood to them. So a helicopter drop is out of the question. It's too loud. Too risky."
He pointed toward the coast.
"You'll travel by boat. Quiet. Controlled. From there, you'll make your way on foot through the streets. Your destination is the old military lab, the heart of the outbreak. That's where the prototype was last stored."
Darius's jaw tightened. He remembered that lab. The screams. The smoke. The smell of burning flesh.
"You'll receive all mission intel before deployment," Glenn added. "Blueprints, terrain data, threat estimates. But listen, this is infiltration. Stealth matters. Still, we're not sending you in unarmed."
He turned to the nearby weapons locker and tapped in a code. The vault hissed open, revealing a selection of sleek, modified rifles and compact sidearms.
"These are suppressed weapons, custom-built for low-noise engagements. If you run into trouble, these should keep you alive without waking the entire island."
Darius stepped forward and picked up one of the rifles, weighing it in his hands. Light. Precise. Deadly.
He looked back at Glenn.
"When do we leave?"
Glenn met his gaze.
"Zero-five-hundred. You'll brief with your team in one hour. From this point on… it's all in your hands."
Darius gave a single nod.
And just like that, he was going back to where it all began.
Back to the island that gave him everything.
And took it all away.