Final Stand
At the threshold of the J.C. Penny's, you reach into your backpack to retrieve your flashlight. Switching it on, you peer into the darkness of the formally bustling department store.
You quickly see the looters didn't leave much behind here as well. You guess warmth and fashion never went out of style, even in the last days of civilization. Stepping over the occasional sweater, dress or t-shirt, you make your way deeper into the interior of the store.
Peering about, you can't help but get an eerie feeling as you walk between the manikins. They seem to look at you with their lifeless eyes and appear to beckon with their waxen hands.
Suddenly, you sense motion out of the corner of your right eye. Swinging flashlight in the direction of the movement, you only observe a few manikins wearing the VERY last summer's fashion trend.
You stop motionless. Unable to kick the uneasy feeling of not being alone, you begin to walk forward toward the manikins. With slow deliberate movement, the head of the black female manikin turns and looks at you! With a sudden start, the black manikin begins to run forward and leaps over the awkward piles of clothing.
Gripped with the sudden realization that you aren't watching the awakening of the first living manikin, you realize that you may be watching the speedy escape of the last woman you may ever see again.
Bringing hands upward to cup your mouth, you yell "Stop! No, wait, I won't hurt you! Please, don't go! Stop!". The torment of your words for having lived over a year alone in the hollow city fills your ears, and brings a head turning from your fleeing would-be companion. The sound however only seems to frighten her; and a moment longer and she disappears out the door onto 11th Avenue.
Suddenly struck dumb with the stupidity of having stood stark still while she ran away, you throw yourself into a sprint toward the door. Leaping over the same clothing she has just hurdled, you run out into the light of 11th Avenue.
Swinging round and round like a top, you look in every direction you can think of along 11th Avenue. Seeing nothing, you quickly run to a few of the nearby cars, hoping that she may have sought a refuge there. Again, your search yields nothing.
Resignedly, you peer down at your feet and notice the lit flashlight in your left hand. Dejectedly, you turn its glowing bulb off.
What shall you do next?
You quickly see the looters didn't leave much behind here as well. You guess warmth and fashion never went out of style, even in the last days of civilization. Stepping over the occasional sweater, dress or t-shirt, you make your way deeper into the interior of the store.
Peering about, you can't help but get an eerie feeling as you walk between the manikins. They seem to look at you with their lifeless eyes and appear to beckon with their waxen hands.
Suddenly, you sense motion out of the corner of your right eye. Swinging flashlight in the direction of the movement, you only observe a few manikins wearing the VERY last summer's fashion trend.
You stop motionless. Unable to kick the uneasy feeling of not being alone, you begin to walk forward toward the manikins. With slow deliberate movement, the head of the black female manikin turns and looks at you! With a sudden start, the black manikin begins to run forward and leaps over the awkward piles of clothing.
Gripped with the sudden realization that you aren't watching the awakening of the first living manikin, you realize that you may be watching the speedy escape of the last woman you may ever see again.
Bringing hands upward to cup your mouth, you yell "Stop! No, wait, I won't hurt you! Please, don't go! Stop!". The torment of your words for having lived over a year alone in the hollow city fills your ears, and brings a head turning from your fleeing would-be companion. The sound however only seems to frighten her; and a moment longer and she disappears out the door onto 11th Avenue.
Suddenly struck dumb with the stupidity of having stood stark still while she ran away, you throw yourself into a sprint toward the door. Leaping over the same clothing she has just hurdled, you run out into the light of 11th Avenue.
Swinging round and round like a top, you look in every direction you can think of along 11th Avenue. Seeing nothing, you quickly run to a few of the nearby cars, hoping that she may have sought a refuge there. Again, your search yields nothing.
Resignedly, you peer down at your feet and notice the lit flashlight in your left hand. Dejectedly, you turn its glowing bulb off.
What shall you do next?