inherit the earth.
"It is the sky that decays." she said, pointing up into the darkness with what was left of her finger, the stub of grit and gore smoking into the cold air. Grimacing, his teeth stained with blood - Dextrous pulled her severed digit out of his left eye, where she had shot it, and tossed it to the street. He gagged at the pain.
The large maggots continued to plaster the ground with their stinking innards - exploding upon impact as they rained down from the sky.
"Now the stratosphere is rotting - the skin of the world will peel back and reveal us - its virulent and cancerous infection.”
“I don't believe you!” He screamed - reaching into his leather jacket for his jackknife. He flicked it out and waved it in her face. She smiled at the danger of it. “Tell me that humanity is ending just the way we saw it, just the way we always expected it to - a victim of its own inability to tolerate!”
The slimy coat that was developing on the road was reflecting the colored lights which permeated the city - the same lights which loaned their vibrant hues to the steam which rose up from the sewer grates - painting the night with swaths of billowing neon.
Dex stepped forward, crunching the remains of one of the infantile flies beneath the steel toe of his crocodile boot. “Then remain tortured.”
Paris Askew continued to grin. “Do what you must.” She held her arms out to her sides and opened her hands submissively.
Dextrous stomped around her and took her neck under his arm - he slipped his blade into the side of her mouth - cutting slightly the skin of her cheek. He wedged the knife up and behind the molars of the upper row of her teeth and twisted - flatting the edge. “I'll pry that smile off your face.” He growled with all the desperation of a usurped and dying alpha wolf. “I'll make you feel...” He began to push the blade forward.
Paris could feel the nick of the edge begin to peel gum from bone. She continued to grin - and began to chuckle.
“Shut up, you bitch!” Dex removed his arm from her neck and pressed on the top of her head with his free hand. She went down on her knees and he intensified the angle of his work, raising his elbow into the air while pulling back on her scalp. Paris continued to laugh as Assemblage began to wedge her teeth loose - a gurgling, giddy sound.
The maggots became sparse - and the night eventually became still again with only the sounds of her pain, and the small, grunting triumphs of Dextrous's sadistic efforts.
Dex pulled out his knife and looked to the sky. “No...”
Paris fell forward and spit teeth. She wiped her mouth-wound and sniffed back some of the agony that was dripping from her face.
“The cremation of the world...” She muttered, her words impeded heavily, a result of Dextrous and his stone-age surgery.
“What are they?”
“Flames in the sky.”
The clouds began to shift. “No...” He replied. “They were called something else.” He pulled the bottle of Jack from the gun holster on his leg and drank.
“They are called stars.”
He stared at them. Beautiful points of light strewn across a darkness that was so clean and pure - a cleansing of the sky which had been muddy, dirty and obscured for as long as he could remember.
“Stars.” He repeated the word he had forgotten, but always known.
Suddenly the neon lights, all the signs that had reminded them nightly that they had once been human, began to gutter and spark, and fall dead.
The artificial lights of the city began to snap off as the grid went down. Buildings, streetlamps, everything which had kept the city's soul on life support began to wink out until eventually the two lovers were surrounded by the silent absence of electricity.
Assemblage dropped his knife and it echoed for what seemed like miles. He turned and looked down.
“Shadows in the dark.” He stared at his own shape cast across the asphalt. “What is this?”
Paris stood and took his hand. “Moonlight.” She pointed up at the orb, a gleaming and ruling sphere which was slowly erupting from the dispersing clouds.
Dex managed only one word, a question. “God?”
“Some believed so.”
“I'm sorry I hurt you...” He said, grabbing her close to embrace her.
“I'm sorry too.” She kissed him and pulled the jackknife out from his stomach.
Assemblage looked down and laughed, or coughed. She had taken the weapon after he had dropped it and put it into his gut. He placed his hand on the seeping gash and held his blood out. It glistened in the moonlight and he smiled.
He began to laugh. “I was so used to the pain, every day, I didn't even feel it!” His laughter roared - the last sound from the last man on earth.
Paris threw the knife into the dark and took his hands in hers. “My gift to you.”
Dexteous Assemblage looked into her eyes. “I love you... Thank you, I love you.”
He fell, rolled onto his back and died staring at the stars and the moon.
Paris stayed by him until his body was cold. She closed his eyes and took from his leg the bottle of alcohol. She stood and poured most of it over his corpse, drinking what was left.
She removed her clothes and stepped out of them, stood naked beneath a twilight that was new and reborn. “Inherit the earth.” She smirked with her broken mouth.
The large maggots continued to plaster the ground with their stinking innards - exploding upon impact as they rained down from the sky.
"Now the stratosphere is rotting - the skin of the world will peel back and reveal us - its virulent and cancerous infection.”
“I don't believe you!” He screamed - reaching into his leather jacket for his jackknife. He flicked it out and waved it in her face. She smiled at the danger of it. “Tell me that humanity is ending just the way we saw it, just the way we always expected it to - a victim of its own inability to tolerate!”
The slimy coat that was developing on the road was reflecting the colored lights which permeated the city - the same lights which loaned their vibrant hues to the steam which rose up from the sewer grates - painting the night with swaths of billowing neon.
Dex stepped forward, crunching the remains of one of the infantile flies beneath the steel toe of his crocodile boot. “Then remain tortured.”
Paris Askew continued to grin. “Do what you must.” She held her arms out to her sides and opened her hands submissively.
Dextrous stomped around her and took her neck under his arm - he slipped his blade into the side of her mouth - cutting slightly the skin of her cheek. He wedged the knife up and behind the molars of the upper row of her teeth and twisted - flatting the edge. “I'll pry that smile off your face.” He growled with all the desperation of a usurped and dying alpha wolf. “I'll make you feel...” He began to push the blade forward.
Paris could feel the nick of the edge begin to peel gum from bone. She continued to grin - and began to chuckle.
“Shut up, you bitch!” Dex removed his arm from her neck and pressed on the top of her head with his free hand. She went down on her knees and he intensified the angle of his work, raising his elbow into the air while pulling back on her scalp. Paris continued to laugh as Assemblage began to wedge her teeth loose - a gurgling, giddy sound.
The maggots became sparse - and the night eventually became still again with only the sounds of her pain, and the small, grunting triumphs of Dextrous's sadistic efforts.
Dex pulled out his knife and looked to the sky. “No...”
Paris fell forward and spit teeth. She wiped her mouth-wound and sniffed back some of the agony that was dripping from her face.
“The cremation of the world...” She muttered, her words impeded heavily, a result of Dextrous and his stone-age surgery.
“What are they?”
“Flames in the sky.”
The clouds began to shift. “No...” He replied. “They were called something else.” He pulled the bottle of Jack from the gun holster on his leg and drank.
“They are called stars.”
He stared at them. Beautiful points of light strewn across a darkness that was so clean and pure - a cleansing of the sky which had been muddy, dirty and obscured for as long as he could remember.
“Stars.” He repeated the word he had forgotten, but always known.
Suddenly the neon lights, all the signs that had reminded them nightly that they had once been human, began to gutter and spark, and fall dead.
The artificial lights of the city began to snap off as the grid went down. Buildings, streetlamps, everything which had kept the city's soul on life support began to wink out until eventually the two lovers were surrounded by the silent absence of electricity.
Assemblage dropped his knife and it echoed for what seemed like miles. He turned and looked down.
“Shadows in the dark.” He stared at his own shape cast across the asphalt. “What is this?”
Paris stood and took his hand. “Moonlight.” She pointed up at the orb, a gleaming and ruling sphere which was slowly erupting from the dispersing clouds.
Dex managed only one word, a question. “God?”
“Some believed so.”
“I'm sorry I hurt you...” He said, grabbing her close to embrace her.
“I'm sorry too.” She kissed him and pulled the jackknife out from his stomach.
Assemblage looked down and laughed, or coughed. She had taken the weapon after he had dropped it and put it into his gut. He placed his hand on the seeping gash and held his blood out. It glistened in the moonlight and he smiled.
He began to laugh. “I was so used to the pain, every day, I didn't even feel it!” His laughter roared - the last sound from the last man on earth.
Paris threw the knife into the dark and took his hands in hers. “My gift to you.”
Dexteous Assemblage looked into her eyes. “I love you... Thank you, I love you.”
He fell, rolled onto his back and died staring at the stars and the moon.
Paris stayed by him until his body was cold. She closed his eyes and took from his leg the bottle of alcohol. She stood and poured most of it over his corpse, drinking what was left.
She removed her clothes and stepped out of them, stood naked beneath a twilight that was new and reborn. “Inherit the earth.” She smirked with her broken mouth.