The Awakening

His house stood alone in a city of rubble and ashes. Three months it had been, and he could still see wisps of smoke spiraling from the debris. Three months since the end of mankind, and every night since then the planet would give off a radioactive glow, making it shine like the August sun.

He sat at his kitchen table, the memories replaying themselves over and over in his head. He watched. Watched as everything he knew and cherished was ripped from him. Watched as his two children were incinerated by the explosion. Watched as people ran, terrified, trying to escape the deadly blast.

Then came the final memory, and quite possibly the most painful. His wife lay dying in his arms. He repeated over and over how much he loved her, and listened, crying, as she whispered words of encouragement. Don’t give up, she had said. You can survive this.

Now, he sat at the table as he had every night since then, wondering how the hell he could go on anymore.

Debating in his mind what to do, he knew that his wife would have wanted him to keep on going, being the strong-willed, determined woman she was. But on the other hand, he didn’t want to carry the burden of being the last man on Earth.

Making his final decision, he pushed the chair back, stood up, and walked into his bedroom. Reaching the gun cabinet, he unlocked it and pulled out a pistol, along with some ammo.

He loaded the gun and cocked it.

Put the barrel to his head and prepared to pull the trigger.

There was a knock at the door.

END