The Last Supper

By T. D. Hamm

Hampered as she was by the
child in her arms, the woman
was running less fleetly now. A wave
of exultation swept over Guldran,
drowning out the uneasy feeling of
guilt at disobeying orders.

The instructions were mandatory
and concise: "No capture must be
attempted individually. In the
event of sighting any form of human
life, the ship MUST be notified
immediately. All small craft
must be back at the landing space
not later than one hour before take-off.
Anyone not so reporting will be
presumed lost."

Guldran thought uneasily of the
great seas of snow and ice sweeping
inexorably toward each other
since the Earth had reversed on its
axis in the great catastrophe a millennium
ago. Now, summer and winter
alike brought paralyzing gales
and blizzards, heralded by the sleety
snow in which the woman's skin-clad
feet had left the tracks which
led to discovery.

His trained anthropologist's mind
speculated avidly over the little they
had gotten from the younger of the
two men found nearly a week before,
nearly frozen and half-starved.
The older man had succumbed almost
at once; the other, in the most
primitive sign language, had indicated
that, of several humans living
in caves to the west, only he and
the other had survived to flee some
mysterious terror. Guldran felt a
throb of pity for the woman and her
child, left behind by the men, no
doubt, as a hindrance.

But what a stroke of fortune that
there should be left a male and female
of the race to carry the seed
of Terra to another planet. And
what a triumph if he, Guldran,
should be the one to return at the
eleventh hour with the prize. No
need of calling for help. This was
no armed war-party, but the most
defenseless being in the Universe—a
mother burdened with a child.

Guldran put on another burst of
speed. His previous shouts had
served only to spur the woman to
greater efforts. Surely there was
some magic word that had survived
even the centuries of illiteracy.
Something equivalent to the "bread
and salt" of all illiterate peoples.
Cupping his hands to his mouth,
he shouted, "Food! food!"

Ahead of him the woman turned
her head, leaped lightly in mid-stride,
and went on; slowing a little
but still running doggedly.

Guldran's pulse leaped. He yelled
again, "Food!"

The instant that his foot touched
the yielding surface of the trap, he
knew that he had met defeat. As his
body crashed down on the fire-sharpened
stakes, he knew too the
terror from which the last men of
the human race had fled.

Above him the woman looked
down, her teeth gleaming wolfishly.
She pointed down into the pit;
spoke exultantly to the child.

"Food!" said the last woman on
earth.

THE END

Transcriber's Note:

This etext was produced from If Worlds of Science Fiction September 1952.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.
copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and
typographical errors have been corrected without note.