Last man on the planet

A roaring tide of blackness receded, as a small, broken figure, lying on the floor in the middle of a desolate plain, opened his eyes. A blaze of light scorched his eyes, burning, blinding, reminding him of the freakish light of last night.

Pain. That was what he felt. But, as he turned his head, he could see no-one, see nothing familiar. Jagged lumps of masonry surrounded him, a jagged shard of thin metal still wedged in his hand.

There was nobody who could help him, and his leg felt broken. He had to go. He had to find help. There had to be somebody out there. Crawling painfully, he dragged himself along the ground with his one good arm, looking for others.

From the dark ruins, glowing eyes watched him drag his ruined body across the wasteland. Some started forward, but were stopped. They would wait for exhaustion, hunger and thirst to take its toll. For the meantime, they would follow.

The End

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