It was in those last days, just as the personal world around myself was preparing to take off and join the ranks of my siblings and parents, fellow students and teachers, that the Earth, consumed and plundered, ravaged and altered by the hands of mankind, began in rapid procession to shake loose the stability once known within her great sphere. It was destined to change, and just as surely as the moon will rise on the eastern horizon, bringing up the tides with her, the great changes echoed and roared across the globe. There was nothing mankind could have done to prevent this, to delay the inevitable and natural earthly shifts that transform our world’s landscapes into pictures unrecognizable to that which we have become accustomed to. Man himself, however, could have made such a transition easier. Had he not built his civilization on the false idea that he was the ruler of the garden of eden, and thus able to act and consume as he pleased. With greater ease would he had entered through, had he not built his cities and temples on the false pretense that earth would never stir and shift so acutely as to wash away his castles of sand, and blow down his structures as decks of cards in passing breath. Certainly, in man’s great abundance and in his vast intelligence there were individuals who realized the magnitude of human error, the prices that were to be paid in consequence, and the vast dynamics which churned the earth in her equilibrium. These individuals spoke to their fellow citizens of the Old Civilization, bringing knowledge and realization to many. To man’s great misfortune, it was too late and too few. The blissful hum of the society in which mankind created for himself numbed away whispers of truth into complacency. Humanity continued on as he pleased for some years longer. Even as the first warning signs had begun, he took them as but mere changes in which he would adapt to, and carry on as he had before with minor alterations in his lifestyle. To mankind, there was nothing that could prevent him from doing as he pleased... It came to him, though, as the changes grew stronger and rampant about the Earth, that he lied in terrible error, and, as the oceans devoured his cities, the winds toppled his towers of steel, and the thunder drowned his cries of anguish, man soon learned his place.
The town lay scorched and black, its buildings and debris crumpled over, jagged and melted every which way. I stumbled, wounded and in delerium, across the charred field of death and destruction. The Martians, by now, were long gone. They had moved on with steady pace, bringing utter and desolate end to all ground beneath their mighty tripods. Across the plain, void of life, not a single voice did I hear. Nothing stirred but the sizzling pieces of crumbled civilization, steaming and smoking with flames here and there throughout the place. I could barely fathom this place had once been a busy, bustling town of thousands. My body, sore and bruised and neglected of any nourishment, pushed on for about a mile or so. I had cleared the town. Now it was just a memory, a place to be forgotten. But I could not so easily shut it out. It burned in physical manifestation, just as it burned my thoughts. It would not leave me. I imagined Hell to have opened up in the place, and its fire to have ravaged and devoured every road and building, and, once it had finished, reached out and snatched away every living soul within. I could not bare to look back. Empty and scarred, I walked on. Miles down a highway, I became witness to a bit of civilization untouched by the Martian foes.... "New York City -> 8 Miles" Thoughtless, my arm reached forth and grasped the pole of the green sign, as if it would take me away from this awful dream and return me to the -real- world. The metal was cold. I drew back my hand and pressed on. The towering buildings of the city came into visual reach. At first glance, my heart leaped in anticipation, but that was soon smothered by the terrifying reality: Certainly, the Martians would have reached there by now. I was no more safe there than I was in the Hell I walked through before. But it mattered nothing now. Nothing mattered anymore. I roamed. I wandered. I waited for death. "Let them take me, let their fire consume me." I said to myself. What mattered anymore? Nothing, no one... I was alone, and for the longest time I felt as if I were the last man standing on Earth. I must have fallen asleep soon after... For I was suddenly awakened by the terrifying sound of screams, followed by a rumbling of the ground beneath me. Through the trees over the highway's side, I witnessed a glowing light. It pulsated, and following it came a gust of hot wind that pressed against every branch and leaf. I rose to my feet in initial fear, and quickly gained cover behind an abandoned car. "The heat ray..." I thought to myself.... Awaiting it's deadly illumination. Rising from the trees came a monstrous tripod. It's legs were thick, yet coiled and able to move as a snake. From its hood came a multitude of metallic tentacles, of which I soon realized were gripping people. A crowd of hundreds were running, shouting, screaming, falling over one another in a stampede I likened to that of a herd of cattle or sheep. For an instant, I saw the tripod as a giant person, and as if he were hunting, scattering the livestock this way and that. People scattered like a colony of ants, whose nest was just stirred by the foot of a human. I cannot stress the great belittling nature of this invasion. Soon the crowd hurled towards me, and I too joined them in their flee from the great beast. We darted, tripped and leaped over and through the trees at the other side, making our way down a hill, praying and hoping with every bit of our soul that the Martian would give up the chase. Suddenly, the deafening sound of their battle cry rung out across a small field ahead of us. The crowd came to a hault, and, as three more tripods emerged from the trees past the field, every soul among us was literally crushed. The crowd began to break up into small pockets, attempting to go around the three Martians. It was no use. Truly, in this instant I felt no greater than some wild animal being hunted by a human adversary. My legs carried me into a dense pocket of trees. A branch sneered my pant leg, and sent me hurling into the branch of a tree, knocking me into a state of half consciousness. I rolled down a rocky hill and collapsed in a pond of water, half floating, half on the muddy shore. In the distance, I could hear their screams of terror. For a moment they almost sounded like some animal.. some creature's cry of fear as it was being run down by its predator. I could move no more. I waited for death, and soon a sleep overtook me. A sleep which I wished would last forever.
When at last I had awakened, the sun was shining brightly through the trees, and I sat up slowly, body aching and sweaty by the sun's heat. I staggered to my feet and waded through the water, grabbing branches and shrubbery as I staggered up the hill from which I had fallen. As I reached the top, half crawling, my eyes resisted to gaze upon whatever sight I may see upon these grassy fields, now hollowed by the deaths of the people in the crowd. With much will power, I forced my vision to take in the place. A great number of trees were ripped out of the earth and lay strewn across the edges of the field. The grass within the field was pressed in spots here and there, either by the foot of a tripod or by the many masses that crowded and stampeded in a futile attempt to escape their fate. There was not a soul, not a trace of anybody - and this eerie reality creeped into the depths of my being. I scanned the horizon only to find nothing, no one. The martians had taken them all, or they had been incinerated. I was not sure if I actually wanted to see a field lay strew with corpses, but the lack of anything to show what had happened gave the place a ghostly vibe. I thoughtlessly wandered across the grass. In a daze I walked until I treaded upon something my foot hit against. I looked down lazily, not in any state of tension. The object was unclear at first, and I had to kneel in order to observe it clearly. A child's teddy bear lay calmly on a patch of dirt, its face smiling up in blissful innocence. It was a small bear, with curly short brown fur, black beady eyes and outstretched arms. Its smile, a thin black curve of thread, confused me. I was not sure how to take this. The bear was almost grinning, screaming irony. In another sense it was a haunting reminder of what had happened here, and what was no more. I felt the desire to pull it out of its place and carry it with me, but I thought twice and left it there, carrying on down the highway. It was a long road with abandoned cars left and right, some melted by the heat ray, others still occupied by the ashes of the drivers. The city was in sight... I pressed on with an entirely false sense of relief. I knew very well there was nothing there for me, but I went nonetheless. Perhaps I wished to meet my fate there. I came across a truck tore in two. Upon the debri were packages of food... I scooped up a few and ate them as I walked on. Feeling refreshed, I quickened my pace. The Washington Bridge was torn and broken, flaming pieces of rubber and cloth danced about the cars. I weaved my way through pieces of twisted metal, eventually reaching the city itself. A strong wind picked up, and the towering buildings howled as if they were brimmed with sorrow in loneliness. It was a frightening place to be. Not a sound did I hear in all of New York City. As I turned round a corner, reaching Times Square, I came across a sight one could only see in the darkest nightmares. Each car held a passenger, and the street lay covered in bodies. There was a strange black film of dust over everything, and all about the corpses were covered with it - making them ghostly shadows. I stepped over them, around them, slowly becoming numb to the death which vastly smothered a silent world. This place was once a thousand, a million voices strong. It was once the cradle of human life, and now, now, the only voice I could hear was the great single howling of a dead city. It echoed and rung through me as I wandered about, eventually waiting for death. I approached a man sitting against the steps of the Museum of Natural History... a gun was clenched in his hand. His clothes were smeared in blood and ashes, and below him was a pool of congealed blood. As my eyes met his, I realized he was vacant. He had been dead for some time, and the blood had congealed and leaked from his wounds. I walked on, greeting the silent eyes of a dozen others. Was I the last of our kind to stand? The last of the living amongst The City of the Dead...
