Jonah looked through the night scope, held his breath. The shadow disappeared before he could squeeze the trigger. It appeared again between two trees, moving fast, right to left. Slowly, he moved the rifle to the left, looking for the shadow to reappear. He wanted to make the kill today before his target moved out of the area. He’d been tracking it for two days. It was wary, as if it knew someone was following. The last thing Jonah wanted to do was track the target for another day. He looked up at the sky briefly to see the sky was lightening. The woods were too thick to see the horizon, so even when the sun rose, it would take a while for light to penetrate through the trees. He crept to his left, looking and listening for a sign. A bird called. The sky grew lighter. A twig snapped, loud in the darkness under the trees, silencing the bird. Jonah moved silently. He’d had lots of practice the past few years, hunting this particular prey. Most times they never knew he was there. However, this one was clever, as if it had encountered danger before.
The shadow rose above a bush. Its head turned left, then right. Jonah started to raise the rifle to his shoulder, but the figure ducked down again. Which way would it go? Jonah jogged along the deer trail between him and his quarry, hoping to cross in front of it. He got careless and pushed through a thicket that rattled the dry undergrowth. He stopped to listen. It was running in the opposite direction, making enough noise to follow easily. He’d spooked it and it moved fast. Changing direction onto the path, he ran toward the noise. A gun fired, and the bullet whizzed by on his right. The muzzle flash gave away the quarry’s position. He knelt and fired. He jumped to his feet and ran into the brush on the other side of the path to get out of sight. Silence fell over the trees. Only his heartbeat sounded in his ears.
When he found it, it was still alive, reaching toward its weapon. The wound was enough to keep it down, but not to kill it. Jonah kicked the gun out of reach. The quarry looked up at him. Light from the rising sun filtered low through trees, casting mottled shadows over the ground. A slight breeze shook the branches as if they held rattles.
It raised its head to look at him. “Please,” it said.
“Sorry.”
“Why?”
“The world will be safer.”
“I never did anything.” It said and laid its head back.
“We all did.”
Jonah lowered the barrel of the rifle and pulled the trigger. The body jerked, then lay still. The eyes looked up at him from either side of the bullet hole. Not such a quick, clean death as usual. It suffered after the first shot, but not for long. Jonah sighed, knelt, and went through pockets. He turned the body over and pulled off the knapsack. Inside, he found shells for the rifle, a couple of energy bars, a water bottle, and not much else of interest. There was no identification, not that it mattered. There was no one to notify and no way in which to do it. He pulled his rifle over his head, across his body by the strap, and put the shells in his own knapsack with the ones already there. Hefting the other’s rifle, he walked away without looking back. The insects and animals would take care of the dead as they were meant to do.
“Fran, I’m home.” Jonah closed the door behind him and his words echoed around the great room. Although the house was constructed of logs, it was modern and bright. He’d walked all the day before, resting only for a few hours in the night. He wanted to get back and was glad to be home. It was early morning, before sunrise. Fran was probably still upstairs in bed. Softly, he climbed the stairs, not wanting to startle her awake. He missed the days when she went out with him, but she had come to hate what they did. She agreed it was necessary; she simply didn’t want to be a party to it. Each time he got home, she acted as if he’d never left.
When he entered the master bedroom, she was sitting on the side of the bed, head down, not quite awake. He walked over and sat down beside her. He put his arm around her shoulder, and she leaned her head against his.
“The last time?”
“Probably. There can’t be many more.”
He had quit going far afield to find targets months ago, as they were becoming scarcer. Every once in a while, someone wandered into their area, which was why he searched the woods on a regular basis.
She sighed and stood. “I’ll get dressed.”
She insisted they both dress properly every day. Not that he didn’t want to. He was still a civilized man, after all. He lay back on the bed, his head on her pillow. It was warm and smelled of her. He smiled and closed his eyes. They had been together for two and a half decades, most of that time as man and wife. They worked to make a life in a world that crumbled around them. They bought this place several years ago when ownership was still a thing to hide from the devastation and the people who were the cause. They grew their own food, and he hunted game sometimes. Life was sweet when it was just the two of them. In the end, they, too, would be gone.
He woke when she kissed his lips. “Want to sleep a while?”
“No, I’m okay. And hungry.”
“Of course. I’ll fix some eggs.”
There was no meat to go with the eggs, but there was fresh bread. Butter wasn’t to be had, but good preserves could still be found.
“Do we need to make a supply run?” he asked.
“Not yet.”
The eggs sizzled in the skillet on the gas burner, and the smell of toast filled the room from the oven, the odors making his mouth water. She set a plate in front of him and sat down with her own. He ate with relish, but she picked at her eggs. She pushed the plate away and said, “I’m going out and feed the chickens.” He watched as she went out the patio doors, disappearing to the left, toward the chicken pen. Something was bothering her; she always fed the chickens when she was upset or thinking very deeply about something, even if she’d fed them earlier. He finished his coffee and went out the side door to cut off the generator. They had a large amount of gas to keep it running, but it would have to last a while. Two years ago, they lugged the generator and gas in jerry cans up to the house from town. At that time, all they had was a golf cart and the trip took hours. It would have been near impossible if they waited until now, with the bicycles and the wagons they pulled behind them. Maybe Fran is upset about needing something from town. She liked going there less and less. It disturbed both of them, the empty streets and stores. The silence left in the wake of the death of civilization. Cars and other vehicles parked on the streets, never to move again. Empty storefronts, the doors gaping open. They quit trying to find anything that still ran under its own power more than a year ago, and what gas they had was for the generator.
She came back in the house with a basket of clean clothes and began folding them. He walked up behind her and put his arms around her waist.
“I was thinking about going into town and getting some things. I’d like a few new books. Do you want to go with me?”
She turned, her gaze so serious that his heart stopped. “I went while you were gone.”
“You did?”
She nodded.
“Why?”
“I needed something.”
It was a day’s trek on the bikes to and from town. She’d never gone alone before.
“What did you need so badly that it couldn’t wait?”
She pulled away from him and went to the built-in desk in the kitchen. She opened the drawer and pulled out a dish towel. Laying it on the kitchen island, she unfolded the towel, exposing what looked a bit like a popsicle stick. On closer inspection, it was made of plastic.
“What’s this?”
“It’s a pregnancy test.”
His heart leapt into his throat, and he felt as if he was choking. “A pregnancy test?”
She nodded.
“What for?”
“Jonah, I’m pregnant.”
Of course, that was what it was for. He stared at the stick, then at her. This wasn’t happening. They’d tried for years to have a baby and eventually gave up. The doctors said their chances of her getting pregnant were nonexistent.
“You can’t be.”
She reached for him, but he backed away.
“This isn’t happening.”
“Jonah, we can’t . . .”
He turned away, paced to the front door, then back, not meeting her gaze. For years. They tried for years! It can’t be happening now. “Why now?” he shouted. It was so unfair. The world had fallen apart. The human race, doomed. “We’ve been working to rid the world of humanity to give Earth a chance to start over. Humans are incapable of living in peace with each other. We don’t deserve . . . Dear God. This can’t be happening.”
Tears flowed down Fran’s cheeks. She stood watching, listening, anguish written across her face. “We can’t kill anymore.” Her voice broke on a sob. “We need for there to be people now.”
“No. We agreed. Humanity needs to die. There can’t be any more people.”
She put her hand on her stomach. “There will be.”
“No.”
He grabbed his hat, stalked through the back door, and headed down the hill. The silence of the forest surrounded him. It usually calmed him, but not now. How could she? How could she do this? He stopped stock still and looked back at the house. She didn’t do it by herself. He screamed, having no words to express what he felt. Wandering aimlessly for hours, he eventually found himself at his favorite spot, a rock overlooking the valley, where he could sit in the sun and think. Or not. Today, he preferred not to think. He tried to clear his mind, calm his soul, but nothing helped. He put his hands over his face and cried.
Twilight softened the edges of the rocks and the house. Jonah opened the patio doors and walked inside. Fran sat on one of the barstools at the kitchen island. She looked haggard, sad, fearful. He walked over and put his arms around her. His love for her tightened his throat and brought tears to his eyes. “It’s all right,” He held her tightly. “It’s all right.”
“Yes, we will find a way.”
He put his chin on top of her head. She clung to him, her body shaking with sobs. His own tears streaked his cheeks. They moved to the sofa, and he held her as she cried. Finally, she slept, exhausted. Still, he sat holding her, love for her filling every fiber of his being.
For years, they endured the agony of the Earth dying of pollution and animal and plant species disappearing. Water unfit to drink. Air difficult to breathe. Humans dying from bacteria and diseases released by the thawing of the tundra and ice at the Arctic and Antarctic. Wars waged over livable regions. Ordinary violence killing so many. Survivors crippled. As the population dwindled, the world began to recover. The two of them watched and listened to news reports, the wailing of victims. Officials and religious leaders pleaded for calm, then decency. Humanity became a thing of the past. But their place in the woods was shielded from most of the brutality and hunger. They protected what they had from anyone wanting to take it away. There hadn’t been many who found their way this deeply into the mountains. Things changed. Water in the valleys and plains below was still polluted, but a little less so. There were places where the air smelled clean, at least compared to the air around the dying or dead cities. Vegetation grew over mines and areas denuded by logging. Grass and trees returned to cover ground bulldozed to make space for houses never built. But then, the humans who survived began fighting over those areas where life was improving, the air and water cleaner. They encroached, wanting the same things the two of them had. Humans would never change for the better. All they could do was fight and kill and destroy. The Earth would die as long as they survived. People, men and women, no longer deserved to have dominion over the animals and the world, as the religious believed the Bible and other holy books decreed. The world suffered and great areas died. Far eastern Asia was destroyed when China and North Korea let loose their nuclear arsenals on each other. The nations downwind of their self-destruction suffered. Near Eastern nations disappeared as they and invading peoples fought over the oil. Reports came over the internet and shortwave radios for a time. Humans didn’t deserve to be the dominant species. The two of them found others who thought the same. Robert Spencer in the mid-Atlantic. Percy Grey in England. Others in Europe and Canada who believed humankind no longer deserved dominion over the Earth. They discussed how to rid the world of the disease that was destroying it. They and others of like mind spent years wandering their countries, killing off people in clusters and singly. They were in contact with people of like mind over the U.S. and Europe until communications broke down. The internet, which had survived beyond expectations, collapsed and soon, no one had electricity except those with personal generators. Five years Fran and Jonah left their home for months at a time to drive the highways and side roads, seeking out the scourge of the world and eliminating them. The world would be cleansed, and in the end, the two of them would live out their lives peacefully until old age or illness took them. When gas became to scarce, they confined their efforts to the mountains around them. Fewer and fewer people made the mistake of entering their woods. However, Fran reached a point where she could no longer go with him. And now? There were very few people left. It was probable there were not enough to re-populate the world. They knew theirs would be a lonely life, but no lonelier than it had been. And as long as they had each other, nothing else mattered.
He moved Fran over gently. She moaned in her sleep. He kissed her forehead, then picked her up and carried her upstairs to the bedroom. He lay her on the bed, removed her shoes and covered her. Her eyes opened.
“Go to sleep, darling,” he said. “Everything is okay.”
She smiled softly, and her eyes closed again.
The windows glowed with the coming sunrise. Jonah stood up from the chair and picked up his rifle. He walked softly to the bed and looked down at his wife, the one person he loved more than anyone or anything else. She frowned in her sleep. Tears streamed down his face, blurring his vision. He lifted the rifle, holding it so close that he couldn’t miss, and pulled the trigger. The bullet entered between her eyes. Her body jerked. Blood quickly spread over the pillow. She was gone, a quick, clean death. Jonah fell to his knees, leaned his forehead against the bed, and sobbed. Near noon, he got to his feet, limped from the bedroom on legs protesting from his kneeling so long. He locked the door behind him. She would lie there in her comfortable bed forever. He walked down the stairs and into the kitchen. Automatically, he filled the coffee pot and turned on a burner on the gas stove under it. Soon, he poured himself a cup of coffee. Every movement took so much effort, but gradually, living again would become easier. He would be so lonely, he knew that. How long could he stand it? Why would he want to? Holding his cup in a shaking hand, he walked out the patio doors, making his way to the rock where he could sit and think. He sat quietly, drinking the coffee, and when it was all gone, he stood. For the first time, he noticed the reds and oranges of the trees in the valley. How beautiful it was when every tree was red, gold, orange, with just a hint of green here and there. The world truly was recovering. Doubts, regret, crept into his mind. Did he have to? Was there any other way? He tossed the cup aside and stood as close to the edge as he could. He couldn’t think of that. It was too late. Oh, Fran. What have I done? He leaned forward into the valley, arms wide to embrace death.
