One of the Last

"Action" Jackson Taylor Richardson

Jackson sat in the pitch black room, staring at a blank television screen. The electricity had been down for months, Jackson didn't notice. The smell of dead bodies stung his nose and caused his eyes to water. Jackson didn't notice. He didn't even notice the encompassing silence.

A fire had started downtown several days ago and had spread through the town. Luckily it had been drowned in rain before it had gotten to Jackson's house, otherwise he'd be dead. He wouldn't have noticed until he had died.


Seven months ago an epidemic had wiped out almost 100% of the world's population. Only a couple thousand people are still living in the U.S. Most of those left are insane, like Jackson.

Jackson suddenly burst out in laughter at the joke Monica had just pulled on "Friends". He continued staring at the blank television screen, laughing. His eyes watered even more. Then he picked up the TV remote and clicked off the television. He got up and yawned.

Jackson crossed the pitch black room and went into the pitch black kitchen. Jackson's eyes adjusted to the light from the florescent bulbs in the kitchen and then crossed the kitchen to the refrigerator. He grasped the cool handle and pulled the door open. The light inside stayed black, but Jackson could see everything perfectly thanks to its light.

He grabbed a bag of salami and pulled out a slice. He ate it, relishing the horrid taste. The salami had gone bad seven months ago, but Jackson didn't notice. He threw the green meat back into the frig and pulled out a water bottle that was full of luke-warm water and chugged it. He loved water best when it was freezing cold, so he rather enjoyed drinking that water.

Jackson put the water bottle back in the frig and closed the door. He went to the bathroom, which was so small that someone that weighed more than 250 would have a hard time fitting into it, and urinated into the empty toilet bowl. He sniffed the urine-infected air and smiled. He loved the smell of those toilet air-fresheners. His had stopped working five months ago.

"Hey Action Jackson!" Regina called. Regina was Jackson's girlfriend. She had been dead for seven months.

"Hey Regina!" Jackson called back. They embraced and kissed like they had everyday up until seven months ago.

Regina had blue hair that was relatively short and matched with her bright-blue eyes that were practically windows into her soul. She had a narrow nose with small nostrils that lingered just above an inviting mouth with red lipstick. Her neck was quite long and connected her head with a slim body that had an hourglass shape to it. She always bragged about her C-cups.

"What'cha doing?" she asked.

"Nothing, just walking around."

Jackson hugged the air.

"That's good. Let's go upstairs."

Jackson smiled and they ran up to their shared bedroom. They fucked in the bed and then Jackson slept. Afterall it was nearing two in the morning.

At around afternoon Jackson woke up and went outside. He smiled at the sky and waved at his neighbors, who had been quite nice the last several months. Before that they had just stayed in their houses. Jackson looked around and waved at all of his neighbors. They always stood on their lawns now, smiling and waving. Even at midnight they'd be smiling and waving on their lawns.

Suddenly a red car pulled up. Jackson frowned. He hadn't seen a car in many months, not since-


Jackson frowned more and then shook the thought away. He waved at the uninviting biker man in the car. He looked at Jackson and got out of the car with a pistol in his hand.

"You don't need that gun," Jackson said and extended his arms outwards. "Look around at the neighborhood. Everyone's so nice now."

Jackson wasn't aware of the fact that he was crying uncontrollably. He caught his breath. "Ever since several months ago they've been so fucking nice!"

The neighbors kept smiling and waving.

Little Yolanda Thompson beside her parents whose names Jackson had never found out. Roger standing with his wife, Erin, his son, Harry, and his daughter, Katy. Harrison and his wife Chelsea. All standing and waving. Smiling and waving. What a nice neighborhood.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" the biker man asked. He was overweight with tattered clothing and a beard. His eyes were hidden by large and reflective sunglasses. His hair was jet black.

Jackson realized how badly he was crying and then let himself fall face-first onto the cement walkway. "Why are you doing this to me? Who are you?"

"I'm Jefferson, who the fuck are you?"

Jackson looked around at the neighbors. Some of the houses were charred and smoking. There was a dead body on one of the lawns. The neighbors smiled and waved.

The mixed visions blurred behind Jackson's watery eyes. He kept crying. He wanted to go wake up Regina and introduce Jefferson and Regina but-


Jackson's tear-stained face looked up at Jefferson. The neighbors were no longer smiling and waving.

"Why did you have to come?" he asked, and then the world faded to gray.

Jefferson dragged Jackson into the back seat of the car and drove away as the sun began to descend from its peak position and once again spread shadow over the world of the dead.


Hey, MorbidMan here. Please review this story.

The idea for this story came to me while I was watching music videos on FUSE (the new music-video channel that hates MTV because it abandoned music-videos). I had wondered what it would be like if the TV was actually off, and I was only hallucinating it being on. You should understand that I'm in the wake of watching "Dawn of the Dead" and am continuously thinking about the horrors of being alone. This, I think, is one of my best stories (not that I've posted on this site, that I've written in general). Please tell me what you think about this story.

If you like this story, I'll add in new chapters about different people that have survived the epidemic.

"Fuck damnation man! Fuck redemption! If we are God's unwanted children, SO BE IT!" -Tyler Durden "Fight Club"