At the End of the World

I light my last cigarette and let my legs dangle off of the roof, watching as the Plagued swarm around our last defenses. This is my last sunset, the last cigarette, my last chance to say goodbye to my partner from the beginning to the end, and probably the last chance I'll get to put a bullet in our heads so that we don't become like them. I exhale a plume of bluish grey smoke, watching as it fades away and disappears as it rises into the sky.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" He asks as he sits beside me on the ledge of the building, our feet dangling precariously off the edge.

"Yeah." I reply, handing him my cigarette, which he accepts.

He ends up coughing as he hands it back to me. It's the first and last time he'll smoke.

"Do you want the honors or should I do it?" I ask as I hold out the Colt 45 in my right hand, the safety on.

"You do it, I don't have the guts." he replies.

I nod and put the gun away, wishing that our roles were reversed for one selfish moment, but then it ends. It's only natural to think that way, I tell myself as I stare out at the setting sun and take another drag of my cigarette.

"Was it worth it?" He asks, looking down as I look at him.

We've been together for a few months and yet I still don't know his name. See, the pandemic broke out a few months ago: millions were wiped out immediately, their bodies not strong enough to handle the Plague known as CXX53-PLG. Anyways, imagine a super soldier, one of the kinds that warlords all over the world are after: immune to everything, mindless, invincible, killing machines; combined with the living dead. Yeah you could shoot the damn thing in the head, but that only stuns 'em. We've tried everything, and unless you've got some explosives, you're screwed when dealing with these things. I woke up alone in my apartment the morning everything went down, and began helping the other tenants start building a barricade to keep the Plagued out.

The first month was the toughest. Almost every night there would be a horde of Plagued that would gather outside and demand to be let in. Another thing I forgot to mention: they're capable of speech and act as though they're just like the rest of us. They're not. Unfortunately, many of the other tenants met their deaths by going outside to meet who they believed to be their loved ones. Others committed suicide, driven insane by the amount of screaming, wailing, and begging that would go on outside the barricade.

The last two months have been better, there's been less of us which meant that more food could go around. Unfortunately the hordes have gotten bigger, which meant that it was only a matter of time before the barricade would break. And now, with the last of our group dead and gone, its just us.

"We've known each other for three months and I don't know your name." I tell him as I ash my cigarette.

"Really?" He asks.

"Really.'' I reply, still staring at the decrepit city around us and the golden purple skyline.

"My name is Ben. I never knew yours either." He says after a moment of silence.

"Nice to officially meet you Ben, my name is Max." I reply, we shake hands, and then we break out into peals of laughter.

To think we spent all this time without knowing the other's name. We've swapped stories about how we got here and who we were before all of this started, yet we never knew that one key piece of information.

When the laughter dies down, I turn to face him and raise the gun to his temple.

"Are you ready?" I ask.

"It was nice knowing you Max, thank you." He replies as a tear slides down his cheek.

After that, everything ends and fades to black.