“The last man on earth...is dead,” said Conrad, frowning at his handiwork.

Rocky spoke up, “More like '–‒is a total dork'.”

“Or how about '–‒really had it coming',” Ringo laughed.

“Why are you even bothering carving a stone for yourself, Conrad? It's not like any of us are going to bury you when you're gone.”

Ringo agreed. “I think I'd rather just eat you.”

“Heck, I'll eat him right now.”

“Oh, me too. Definitely. Hey, maybe we should.”

Conrad had had enough. He grabbed the rolled-up newspaper and took a swing at the dogs who jumped back in alarm. “All right, that's enough! You two think it's going to be so great when I'm dead? Who's going to rub your bellies then, huh? I'll tell you who. No one! It'll be the last time any dog on Earth gets a belly-rub. Ever!”

The German Shepherds had to think about it for a moment. They weren't the brightest pups in the pack, Conrad knew, but they meant well. (Well enough, anyway.) He turned back around to work on the granite slab. He was lousy with a chisel, but the words were starting to take shape. He just had to decide how to wrap it up. “The last man on earth.” That was him.

He winced in pain as he reached for his bottle of pills up on the nearby shelf. The broken leg was infected and there was no one to help him. It was the dumbest way in the world for the last man on earth to die: a broken leg. If Big Jack didn't scare up some antibiotics, he was finished. So far, the Bulldog and his pack of scavengers had brought back everything but antibiotics: aspirin, tongue depressors, pool test kits, dental tools. They'd probably hit every toy store in the city too. His collection of Rubik's Cubes was a testament to their ability to fetch the wrong thing a hundred times over.

At last, the doggy door flew open and the pack came in, their little backpacks overflowing with junk. “We got it this time, Human!” Big Jack said with a slobbery grin. Conrad smiled back and patted his head, but he knew better than to get his hopes up. Big Jack tried his hardest, but he was dumb as a box of rocks. His backpack was filled with nothing but doggie treats, and that was no surprise. Rex the Second actually had medical supplies and got to eat the treats while Big jack whimpered. More toys from Niko the Morkie, who loved games of fetch more than breathing.

Conrad's eyes went hazy and the room started to spin as he rummaged in the little cross-breed's backpack. Between the loss of blood, the infection, and the pain meds, he was likely as not to check out at any moment. Every time he looked woozy, his two guards got this excited look on their faces that sent him reaching for the newspaper. Those idiots really would eat him, wouldn't they? And here he was thinking they'd at least cover up the grave if he went and laid down in it. Fat chance!

At the bottom of Niko's backpack, he came away with a little white box. It was literally the only thing the dog had brought that wasn't a toy. He held the box up to his eyes, the words printed on its surface dancing and swimming. They came into focus for a brief moment and Conrad was able to read a bunch of medical nonsense that he couldn't make out. All except for one word: “antibiotic.”

He had to read it again. His head cleared up all at once and he laughed aloud. “Oh, Niko, you're the best dog ever! You found it!”

Niko started wagging his tail and wheezing with excitement. Conrad reached for his syringes and was alarmed to find Big Jack's heavy paw on top of them. He growled at Conrad. “Who's a good boy?” he asked with a scowl. “You are, Jack! You are!” said Conrad in a panic, rubbing the bulldog's ears. Big Jack wagged his stubby tail and let Conrad have the package.

Conrad's fingers trembled as he worked to get the needle to puncture the rubber seal that covered the tiny bottle. At last, he got it and drew back on the plunger. With the syringe and the life-saving medication together at last, he sunk the needle into his burning leg and laid his head back against his own gravestone. “You're all good boys. All of you.”

As he lost consciousness, the dogs piled up on him at once, licking his face. Conrad smiled and drifted off to sleep. The last man on earth was alive!

Blue Sky Day

Mike the Kite flew higher and higher into the sky until his person, Ricky Evans, finally ran out of string. This was it! This was as high as Mike had ever been before in his life! Months in a crate and weeks with other kites in front of him being sold had finally paid off.

Mike had been taken out of Ricky's closet a total of five times over the summer. The first day was great, even though Ricky dragged him the dirt a lot. He still got up there pretty high and got to see the tops of buildings. The second day had been a windless bust and the third day he spent in the trunk of the Evans' car while they played baseball instead.

But yesterday! Oh! Yesterday was even better than the first day! Mike had gotten out on his string and up above the wide field of the community park even higher than their first outing and Ricky really seemed to have gotten the swing of flying him. He was above the trees and the houses in no time and even caught a glimpse of a lake not far away. He let the warm wind fill his wings as he breathed in the smell of fresh-cut grass. He darted left and right, nearly crashed, then got up on a strong current of air when Ricky went running across the field. It was pretty incredible.

It must have been great fun for his person too. A bunch of kids and even Ricky's father wanted to have a go, but Ricky would have none of it. He was a scrapper! Always shoving the other kids out of the way, never letting them take Mike's string. Ricky was the best. A kite just couldn't ask for a better person.

And now, he was way, way out there! The people looked like tiny dots, the trees were just green smudges, and even the birds flew underneath him. A strong gust of wind caught him and yanked the string taught. Ricky ran out in the middle of the field, playing Mike out just a little higher. Amazing! That kid was amazing! Ricky's father was chasing him now and Ricky just kept on running. There was no way the bigger man could catch him, he was so fast.

The wind shook Mike's wings and set his long blue tail to snapping. Tiny drops of rain started to pelt him in the face, but he didn't care. Even if the blue sky was turning gray and Ricky had let go of the string, nothing could possibly bring Mike down on a day like this. Without the string to hold him, Mike felt like he could just soar off all on his own, saying goodbye to the lousy dirt and the grass for good. Hello to clouds, hello to sun, hello to freedom!

Finally, in a surprising move, Ricky's father picked him up bodily and hauled him away over his shoulder. Mike was rooting for his person who kicked and screamed with all his might. What a scrapper that kid was! He was the best! A little to his surprise, Mike found that without his person holding the string, he was starting to fall back to the ground. Which was weird. He figured it would be just the opposite. Why wasn't he flying? It was like Ricky was magic or something. Just by being there, he made Mike soar.

Soon enough, it became obvious that he was going to crash again. He'd crashed plenty of times when his person was still learning, but he sure didn't look forward to the taste of grass in his mouth. Lucky for him, he looked to be fluttering away from the grass and off toward the trees. Rather than doing an undignified, fanny-in-the-dirt landing, he came to rest in the boughs of a pine, right above a bird's nest. The wind gave him a hard shove and his tail got tangled up in the branches.

But where was Ricky? Mike would usually be getting drawn back in by now. Below, he saw the Evans family car drive off and caught one final glimpse of his person, red-faced and crying up against the window. He hated for his person to be sad. It was his job to make him happy. As soon as Ricky came back, he was going to do his best to fly higher than ever and make him laugh again.

The wind blew harder and the rain started to fall. All the people ran away from the park. The remnants of Mikes' string flopped around on the ground and got wrapped up in a bush. That was going to be one mess to un-snag. As soon as Ricky came back, they'd get it all sorted. Just as soon as Ricky came back, everything would be made right. The sun went down and the rain started to fall. Mike laid there quietly in the tree, waiting for his person.

Sydney was a robot, but that wasn't the important thing. No, it didn't even enter into the picture. He was part of the team, a brother in arms, so to speak. Sure, he didn't share the same blood as the rest of the Planetary Exploration Force, but he was a member of the crew, for crying out loud!

So why was it that he was left sitting on a rock in the middle of noplace, watching his "pals" blast off into orbit without him? All alone. Nobody here. He would have said it aloud, but there was no point. Because nobody was listening! He raged in his own mind till his overrides tried to...er...override and he had to cool himself down. He'd figured out how to ignore overrides ages ago. Hours.

Sydney idly kicked one of the local insects that scurried past. Bloodthirsty little things, about knee-high and full of teeth. Were they the reason his teammates had left in such a hurry? He had told them the coast was clear before they came out out of the ship, and it was! Air OK. Radiation OK. Temp just balmy. Perfect. There was nothing to worry about but the millions of ten-legged little vermin. They didn't even bother Sydney!

He let out his own version of a sigh (a habit he had picked up from his crew-mates recently) and radioed the ship for the dozenth time. "Guys. Come on. Stop fooling around and come get me. Please?"

A packet of data burst in his ear, telling him to shut down. It was the third time they'd sent that message. There had to be a hidden meaning there, right? They didn't really want him to shut down, did they? It was just a joke. Like the way they had run screaming back into the ship, dragging Lt. Sparks and fighting off the horde of insects. A joke. Humans were funny like that.