Writing Prompt - 2014/05/22 - Last Man Alive

     It made a sound like bones cracking as ice melted atop the steel canister. To the west a low sun set, casting long shadows across the wasteland of Old D.C. The buildings were all ruined now, moss-covered brick, steel, and cement. The streets littered with old rusted cars, broken televisions, moldy clothes, and other debris from the last few years of looting and riots that took place before The End.

High above the city the skeleton of a woman sits on the edge of a skyscraper. She must have died staring down at the chaos.

     BRRRAAAAAKKK

     The last few chunks of ice hit the floor beside the steel canister. A metal plate now visible. It reads: CONDRY, JOHN R – DOF – 2024/05/10. The metal tube glows bright with lights all along its seams, humming to life with the sound motors and air decompressing. On the front of the tube a panel slides down revealing a man. He's naked and his skin looks wet and pale. As though his body just remembered it's still alive he begins to shiver.

     John took his first steps in over 200 years. His feet blindly touching the cool mossy ground beneath him. His eyes still didn't function, even the dim light of twilight burned. He felt his way around calling out for someone to help him. Johns bumbling steps led him through the ruins of the hospital facility where he was frozen. Ahead the floor gave way to a steep hill where an earthquake had swallowed part of a city block. John's hands felt along the walls trying to give his weak legs support. His foot felt the empty space beneath it as he tumbled forward down the hill.

     The next day John woke up. His eyes seemed to be working better now. As he looked up he could see that the building he emerged from had been torn in two. He found himself sprawled on a pile of rubble, a red splotch indicated where his head had made contact with a rock during his fall the previous night.

     John stood, flexing his muscles the warm sun seemed to wash away some of the weariness that pervaded his body. As he made the climb back up the hill, John looked around surveying the ruins around him. Where am I?

     Back inside the hospital the daylight illuminated what little there was to see. Moss covered every surface. All of the gurneys were old and rusted out. Tables were knocked over, trash and debris covered the floor. It occurred to John that maybe he was caught in a war-zone, though it was odd that the only bodies he saw were already completely decomposed.

     John found his way back to the capsule he emerged from. On a table next to the device was a letter with John's name on it. The envelope looked wet and moldy. John opened it and read what he could. It detailed the events that occurred after he was frozen. Apparently, some doctor wrote it on the off chance that John survived his cryogenic sleep and needed to know what happened.

     Some 200 years ago there was a massive solar flare, the resulting radiation pierced the atmosphere instantly killing 90% of life on the planet. Those who survived were left with a world where most modern technology had been destroyed and enough people had died that all infrastructure crumbled.

The doctor who wrote the note said that somehow John's cryogenic tube wasn't damaged in the initial blast though the power source had been knocked out. After the hospital was deserted he managed to rig a solar system to the unit in the hopes of sustaining John's life for as long as possible. The doctor didn't know how he had survived the blast, seemed there were people who were just in the right place so as to not get an instantly lethal dose of radiation. Though he knew his days were numbered. He closed with:

     “I'm sorry I never got to meet you. By the time I started working here you had already entered your deep sleep. I know there's no guarantee that you'll ever wake up. In some ways I hope you don't. But if you do, and if you feel that you don't want to try surviving as the last man on earth, well, I don't think anyone could blame you for that. Not that there'll be anyone left to do so. Anyways, on the other side of the room I left some morphine pills for you. If you take the whole bottle it should be enough to kill you. Should be pretty painless. Good luck finding water though, you're gonna have a heck of a time swallowing them after being asleep for god-knows how long. Whatever you decide, good luck.”
     John crumpled the letter. He walked over to the cabinet and grabbed the pills. Looking down at the bottle he laughed to himself. I guess it wouldn't be much different than going back to sleep, right? With a heavy sigh John poured a handful of the little pills into his hand.