So I'd told Wandi I'd write a short story of a man and a dot ages
ago. It's long. It's awful. It's unfinished. But it has pictures. Enjoy.
Steve was the last man on Earth. Everyone else had been wiped out
by a highly infectious and fatal disease to which only he was immune. Some
might say he was lucky, but then again, he was the last human on Earth and also
hence there was no 'some'.
It had happened so quickly - overnight, even. He'd switched the TV
on to watch the news. The advert about Babybels came on and that made him
happy. "Bop-bop-bop, bop Babybel."
The new virus only affected humans and it was spreading incredibly
fast - the news reporter suddenly died while doing his report. One by one, the
cameramen dropped dead and shortly afterwards, the TV went blank and the sound
of white noise filled the room. Steve had fallen asleep before the news even
came on, so he didn't know what had happened.
When he woke up, he choked and found his cat had been sleeping on
his face.
He left the house at half past seven to go to work. He looked at
his to-do list:
 |
| Yes, the cat's name was Cat. Steve had a very limited imagination. |
He was half asleep as he reached the tube station and crashed into
the barrier. The station had closed as the tube wasn't working.
Steve swore and kicked the gate, stubbing his toe. Having
recovered from the pain, he walked to the nearest bus stop. Then he realised it
was oddly quiet for a Tuesday morning. He looked around and saw people slumped
everywhere.
Puzzled, he scratched his head, like monkeys do in cartoons. Steve
was hairy like a monkey.
He paused for a while, having stopped scratching his head. A
metaphorical light bulb lit up above his head.
"Oh... I see." He grinned. "OK, guys, I know
what's going on," he shouted. "I'm on TV, aren't I? C'mon, prank
over."
Silence.
"Guys."
No response.
He walked over to the nearest slumped figure and prodded it. It
didn't move. He poked the figure next to it and that one didn't move either.
He shook another and yelled at it and hit it and still it didn't
move. He checked for signs of breathing, and realised it was dead.
Steve began to panic. He flapped his arms like a chicken and paced
around for a bit.
Although a wholly useless action, humans do tend to do these
kinds of things.
He looked around and saw the whole street was covered in corpses;
people had simply died on the spot and lay immobile, frozen.
"Hello? I said, HELLO? IS ANYONE OUT THERE?"
The reader will realise that of course, only those within Steve's
vicinity would be able to hear this, and that was also on the condition that
they were alive/weren't deaf. He took out his mobile and called his mum. It
went straight to voicemail.
"Uh, Mum, hey. I know I never call - sorry - but I wanted to
see if you were OK. Right. Bye"
He called his best mate, Martin. It rang for a while, but then
went to voicemail.
"MARTIN YOU BASTARD, GIVE ME BACK MY TWENTY POUNDS. Oh wait,
are you OK? If so, call me back as soon as you get this. And meet me at the bar
round the corner. Preferably with the twenty pounds."
He stood there and rang every number on his phone, but no one
picked up.
A front page of the Metro flew about in the wind. Steve chased
after it, tripping over dead bodies. He caught it eventually. The headlines
read: "DOOMSDAY APPROACHES". Apparently he'd missed Doomsday because
he'd fallen asleep, and now it appeared everyone had died.
Steve milled around for a bit and pondered (something he didn't do
very often).
His first thought (and later he was ashamed of this) was to raid
the Krispy Kreme store, because he'd realised that since everyone was dead, no
one could stop him from just helping himself to whatever he wanted.
While eating a doughnut, he had a series of thoughts. He thought about
his love for doughnuts. Then he thought about love. Then he thought about the
people he loved. Then he realised all of them were probably dead and he was
probably the last human on the planet, all alone with no future.
He heaved a heavy sigh.
However, the reader will know that it is very unlikely for there
to be just one solitary human immune to a particular disease. Out of a
population of 7 billion, the likelihood of at least one other
person being immune is highly likely.
Steve ate four more doughnuts, jeered at the dead Krispy Kreme
vendor ("HA HA, I got free doughnuts!"), then went home and threw up.
* * *
Electricity had stopped. Only batteries could be used. He tried
using a radio to find if there was someone else out there, but there was just a
perpetual crackling that meant nothing.
This carried on for weeks. He could walk quite casually into any
store and help himself to anything he wanted. It was fun. Kind of. He talked to
himself, or to the festering dead, to stop himself from going insane. Perhaps
he was already going insane. Who knew?
The city was beginning to smell. The millions of corpses littered
about were starting to decompose and all Steve (not being of a particularly
intelligent nature) could come up with was to stick tissues up his nose to stop
from smelling the dead.
He toyed briefly with the idea of killing himself. It was a
depressing prospect, this being alone forever. Cat had run off with some other
cats and had left him utterly alone. The human population had ditched him and
now even his cat had done the same. But he couldn’t bring himself to commit
suicide.
However, things changed dramatically one day, while Steve was wandering
around the city with a doughnut in his hand. He espied a dot moving about in
the distance, and at first, thought it must be a dog or something. A small
flicker of hope still existed within him, and he hurriedly neared the dot. What
if it were a human? What if it were a beautiful young lady? After all, if it
were just he and this young lady, it would be up to them to repopulate the
world... He began to run, getting closer and closer to the moving figure.
To be continued...
