The Last Man by Ryan King

nearly so appealing. How about nuclear power plants? What about all that nuclear fuel, evaporating the water in the cooling tanks and now exposed, heating up and radiating like the sun. Eventually the rods would melt down into the earth and there would be a radioactive meltdown caused by an inevitable chemical chain reaction. Hell, there could have already have been a meltdown. Maybe there were nuclear plants already dispersing radioactive clouds of invisible particles and poison rain. There was so much that had been created that wasn't meant to run on its own, but who could have foreseen everyone would just one day disappear? He hoped there was some sort of safety mechanism in the nuclear plants that prevented the scenario he'd just envisioned.
    Sam noticed a giant decrepit billboard on the side of the road. He could see it had originally advertised a restaurant with the best pancakes in the state, but was smeared with red painted letters saying 'The End is Near! Repent Before It Is Too Late!"
    He rarely noticed the graffiti and signs of the end, his brain had developed an internal filter that allowed it all to simply become invisible most of the time. He didn't like to see such things because it reminded him of the end times, all the chaos, fear, and death. Sam had lived like a small rodent, hiding and coming out of cover with great trepidation. In those days if two people saw each other they were as likely to try to rape, torture, and kill each other as pass on their way.
    Sam had killed his first man only a week after the National State of Emergency was announced. He was trudging out of the city with thousands of other refugees, no one talking or even looking at each other as the dreary incessant rain poured down on their cold bodies. A crazed, and perfectly healthy-looking, teenager had rushed from out of a knot of refugees directly at Sam brandishing a dirty knife. Sam was startled and had the lunatic instinct to turn away, that maybe if he didn't make eye contact with the onrushing menace it would go away.
    Fortunately, a lady with a shopping cart went in front of the attacker and he spilled over her cursing and swinging his knife wildly, breaking Sam's paralysis. Sam dropped his heavy pack and turned to face the insane kid holding the baseball bat he picked up in front of him like a shield scared out of his wits. He'd never even been in a fistfight in his life and this nut was trying to stick a knife in him. The really unbelievable thing was that the refugees flowed around the two, politely giving them more space, and then simply continued on their way as if nothing was happening.
    The youth stood up crouching, knife low and insanity in his eyes, "You took my sister you bastard! I saw you!"
    Sam was relieved, the kid obviously had mistaken him for someone else. "Look, son, I don't-"
    The boy stepped inside of the bat's range and swung the knife incredibly fast. Sam stepped back instinctively and instead of the blade cutting his throat it only sliced a deep burning gash in his bicep. He looked for a place to run, but there was none. He searched for help in the crowd, but everyone was avoiding eye contact. Sam caught a glimpse of two police officers on the top of a building watching casually while smoking cigarettes. He caught the eye of one who looked back at him with a dead uncaring face.
    Sam felt burning across his knuckles and almost dropped the bat. The boy was coming on fast and low. Adrenaline flooded Sam and he swung the bat in a wild arc which caused the desperate kid to slow his advance and step back. They stood staring at each other waiting for an opening, for the other to make a mistake. The boy's patience gave out first and he leaped forward thrusting the knife at Sam's chest.
    Sam's instinct took over and his mind was blessedly cleared for a split second. He had been something of a baseball star in high school and even played softball up until several years earlier. Age had taken away his speed and ability