The Last Man on Earth

Another day to live through,

better get started.

Is that all it has been

since I inherited the world?

Only three years.

It seems like a hundred million.

Yeah, I own the world.

An empty, dead, silent world.

More of them for the pit.

Every day there are more of them.

They live off the weak ones

and leave them for the pit.

K-O-K-W calling. Come in.

K-O-K-W calling.

I'm on international frequency. Come in.

They can't bear to see their image.

It repels them.

I need more mirrors.

And this garlic's lost its pungency.

There was a time

when eating was pleasurable.

Now it bores me. Just fuel for survival.

I'll settle for coffee and orange juice

this morning.

But first there is my life to consider.

I'd better replace that garlic.

I need more, lots more.

Better stop off and get them.

I can't afford the luxury of anger.

Anger can make me vulnerable.

It can destroy my reason, and reason

is the only advantage I have over them.

Got to find where they hide during the day.

Uncover every one of them.

Now, where did I finish off yesterday?

Madison Street to 31st Avenue.

Eleven kills over three years.

And there's more than half the city

I haven't searched.

They are perfect.

Just wide enough to keep the flesh apart

so their body seal can't function.

How many more of these

will I have to make...

before they are all destroyed?

They want my blood. It's their lives or mine.

I still get squeamish.

Wait. That garlic.

I better put it back where it belongs.

I can't live a heartbeat away from hell

and forget it.

I'm out of gas.

That means one more stop I'll have to make.

I can get rid of them later.

Right now, I'm out of gas.

They're still fresh.

But I'll take only what I need.

They've got to last.

They can wait, too.

I've got my life to worry about.

Those mirrors have to be replaced

before dark.

Square blocks to search.

How many of them still exist?

How long will I have to keep up this search?

I haven't much time left.

It'll be dark in an hour.

And now 12 long hours

before the sun will rise...

and drive them back to darkness.

Morgan, come out.

Come out.

Robert, help me!

Another day.

Another day to start all over again.

Virge.

God, how I miss you.

The sun's already set.

They'll be everywhere!

It's Morgan. Get him.

Do you hear?

Do you hear, Morgan?

Three years.

Three years!

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven.

Virge?

Yes? No. My makeup. My hair!

- Where is everybody? All I can see is...

- Hi, Ben!

I can hear children,

but I can't see any children.

Uncle Ben!

Look at Uncle Ben!

- What did you bring me?

- Open them and see.

- Come.

- Are all those for Kathy?

Take a look at this.

- It's highly theoretical, Ben.

- Theoretical?

Do I have to remind you

that theory is the beginning of solution?

"Is Europe's disease

carried on the wind?" Is it, Ben?

- It could be.

- And if it is?

It isn't, Virge.

Is that what you really think,

or what you'd like to think?

I cannot accept half-baked theories

that sell newspapers.

I'm a scientist, not an alarmist.

You're whistling past the graveyard.

Is that a commentary on my work at the lab?

- We both know how hard you've worked.

- I'm sorry.

I just can't accept the idea

of universal disease.

Uncle Ben, you promised us card tricks.

All right, Kathy. Who can resist that face?

All right. Card tricks.

Is it possible this germ, or virus,

could be airborne?

Anything is possible, Virge.

The best brains in the world

have been running through this thing...

with a fine-toothed comb.

The germ is visible under a microscope...

but it's not like any bacilli I've ever known.

In what way?

It can't be destroyed by any process

we've been able to uncover.

But with the whole world trying,

there must be a solution.

Mommy, when are we gonna cut the cake?

Right now our problem is to cut that cake.

- Mommy.

- Coming.

The wind wake you up?

It always does.

How do you feel?

- I'm all right.

- Don't get up, honey.

- I'm not sick, I'll make your breakfast.

- You don't have to.

I'll be all right. Go on and read your paper.

All right.

Sweetheart, look, if you don't feel well,

please go back to bed.

I'm just a little tired, that's all.

I wish somebody would find a vaccine.

It's all we're working on at the lab.

Maybe you better not send her

to school today.

All right.

- Do you think you should go to work?

- I have to.

Bob, I'm so frightened.

Everything's going to be

all right, sweetheart.

- Well?

- The bacilli are multiplying.

That kicks the bone marrow theory

in the head.

This specimen shows a higher white count...

than when I put it on the slide.

Those cells are still living, Dr. Mercer,

off one another.

There has to be an answer.

You've heard all communications

are ended outside the continental limits?

Yes, I heard.

That leaves it in our laps.

So we keep trying. Where's Cortman?

He should be here by now.

You two stay on this virus theory

until I decide it's exhausted.

Right.

- Yes, sir?

- Morgan will fill you in.

All right, sir.

And what did the great man of science

have to say today?

- More of the usual?

- He's trying, Ben. Just like the rest of us.

And nothing works.

The streets are swarming

with truckloads of bodies...

that they're throwing

into that God-awful pit.

And the dedicated Dr. Mercer goes on...

with his plodding, unimaginative approach.

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