Still Here and Heading South

It was a useless exercise—he knew that. No one would ever see his name because no one existed. He was the last person on earth.

He didn’t understand how it had happened. There was no bomb, no apocalypse, no mass disease. He had simply woken up one morning to discover every other person had vanished. Over time—and there’d been 126 days of time so far—he’d begun to suspect it was really the other way around. Somewhere, on the real earth, he was the one who had mysteriously disappeared in his sleep. Maybe he’d slipped into a parallel universe. The police had probably quit looking long ago, and his family was probably starting to give up hope. Meanwhile, he carried on here. Alone.

It could have been worse. He was lonely, of course, and he had no electricity. But all the inanimate objects had stayed here, so he had plenty of canned goods to eat, and a bicycle to get around and bottled water to drink. He wouldn’t die unless he chose to make it happen. The jury was still out on that—so far he was okay.

Plus, he had meaningful work to do. It might have been useless, but it felt meaningful to him, so that made it important. He wrote his name everywhere he possibly could—on the sides of buildings, on sidewalks, in the sand. He always wrote the date with it, and a brief note about which direction he planned to go next. It wasn’t likely anyone else had slipped into this parallel world with him, but it was possible. If so, he wanted to make sure they wouldn’t miss each other.

Even if there was no one else, the work was important. He still existed. He wasn’t gone. His name was a way to proclaim that.

James Kincaid. 9/16/13. Still here and heading south.

It was enough. For now, at least. 

Solitude

Carla saw the movie version of Annie when she was seven years old. Despite all the singing, dancing and cute orphans, the part that struck her was when Daddy Warbucks took Annie to see a movie, and he bought out the whole theater so they had it to themselves.

“Why did he do that?” she asked her mom.

“Well, he’s got lots of extra money. I guess he didn’t want to deal with other people.”

Carla thought that was the best idea she’d ever heard. She decided right then that she wanted the kind of money that meant she never had to deal with other people.

Unfortunately, she discovered as she grew that earning money usually entailed dealing with other people, and she wasn’t very good at that. Carla didn’t end up with the kind of money that allowed her to buy out theaters or rent amusement parks for her own use. She did, however, have the next best thing. She discovered a picnic area that no one else knew about.

There was never anyone there.

Never. Anyone.

It was true the place was hard to find. She kind of had to hold her teeth right and squint at the perfect moment to spot the dirt track running off the main road. Carla never would have found it if she hadn’t been desperate to be somewhere secret, somewhere she could be alone.

The first time she went there, she was enchanted to see a picnic area that seemed to have been reserved just for her. She figured she’d hit it at an off time, though. Surely it wouldn’t always be deserted.

The second time, when she took a picnic out there on her lunch hour, she was thrilled to find she still had it to herself. She started taking her lunch out there every day. She always found blessed, peaceful solitude. It seemed the place really had been reserved just for her.

Eventually, Carla started packing her dinner and going to the picnic area after work, as well. She began thinking of it as her own place, something she’d bought with a currency more powerful than money. When the idea came to her that she ought to buy a tent and spend the night there, too, it seemed perfectly right. Even then, no one bothered her.

Finally, Carla stopped leaving. If the place was magic, as she half suspected, she might leave one day and not be able to find it again. She’d rather die out there than risk that. She’d gradually brought in supplies, so she had everything she needed. She could build a fire. There was water on the other side of the hill. She ate wild dandelions and native pecans and the squirrels she managed to catch.

No one ever found her. No one ever bothered her. And that was just fine with Carla.