The Last Man had been waiting for hours. His eyes stung from the dry, cold weather. A chill had settled so deep in his core, he didn’t think he’d ever warm up again.
It didn’t matter. He would stay until just past dusk. Only then would he end the day.
This had been his hunting spot for three winters and it never failed him. With each passing year nature took back what was once hers. Animals roamed freely here now. The cars rusted. The asphalt disappeared under brambles and grass growing from its cracks. In the distance, skyscrapers turned into skeletons.
The Last Man shifted slightly and closed his eyes for a few long seconds to try and warm them up.
He heard a twig snap. Standing in front of him was the biggest buck he’d ever seen. Slowly, he brought up his rifle and aimed…
For those of you just starting, this is my first ever Last Man flash fiction. I started posting these on my Facebook fan page and wanted to have a spot other than Facebook that I could keep them. I do not claim any of the art, and credit the artist whenever I am able (which is most of the time). Thank you for reading!