The Guy Who Had All The Time In The World (1/8) By Joe Hakim

(1/8), (2/8), (3/8), (4/8), (5/8), (6/8), (7/8), (8/8).

Sometimes it gets to be a bit too fuckin' much, I decide, after another day spent wandering the streets aimlessly. The sky is still bright purple - the colour of a fresh bruise - and the streets are still completely silent; not even the sound of birds chirping or distant traffic in the distance. Aside from that, everything seems to be much the same, at least on the surface. There's no visible evidence of chaos or destruction; cars are parked, untouched; windows are shut, not shattered; shops and houses show no signs of looting (well, aside from the ones that I've done over); street lights and signs are still diligently blinking.

Everyone in the entire city, possibly the entire world for all I know, has vanished. Until I see or hear any different, I am the last surviving member of the human race. It's only been over the last couple of days, days I've spent walking around in a trance, that it's occurred to me just how fucked up it all is. No bodies, no blood, not one single shred of evidence to suggest what happened. There are no answers, just an ever increasing list of questions, like: how come there aren't any fires raging from shit like chip pans being left on and stuff?

It seems as though the entire human race, shortly before disappearing, remembered to turn off the gas and extinguish all cigarettes and naked flames. And why is the electricity and water still on? Flick a switch and the light comes on. Turn on a tap, water comes out. Have a shit, the toilet still flushes. The telly and radio still work but they don't receive anything - each channel pumps out static. I recently broke into Dixons, and tried all the digital channels. Nothing. I tried logging onto the internet. Nothing.

Nothing makes any sense, and the first couple of weeks scamper past like a rat - another creature that has seemingly abandoned the planet Earth while I was sleeping, along with all the birds and people.

I first noticed that there was something wrong when I went into the newsagents the morning after that crazy fuckin' night out with the lads. Jeezus, I felt fuckin' rough when I woke up that day. I couldn't believe how fucked up the sky looked. It was purple - brilliant and unnatural like a kid's painting of the early evening sky. It didn't seem real somehow. Anyway, I walked into the shop, picked up a paper and went over to the counter to pay but there was no one there. I still had a fuzzy head, the result of too many pints of Stella and too many joints, so it took a while for me to get with it.

After about ten minutes it began to dawn on me that I was the only person in the shop. I shouted for assistance, but no one came. I looked behind the counter to see if anyone was in the back, but it was empty. It occurred to me I hadn't seen or heard anyone on the way to the newsagents. Not one single person.

Continued...Next Page (2/8)

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