I was getting weaker every second. The wound on my right thigh wasn’t healing properly and I was getting the feeling that I would bleed out soon. Skin that used to cover my thigh was torn off by a pack of wolves. I was ambushed by the furry creatures and I didn’t have any weapons for use. I honestly didn’t think a pack of wolves would barge into my campsite and drive me out so easily. Life seriously sucks.
          It was a cold Saturday morning and I wasn't looking forward to walking, but I had no choice. I managed to pull myself up onto my feet and stretch. I wasn't far away from my campsite but I didn’t want to go back to those ferocious dogs, so I started to walk in another direction.
          I trudged and I trudged. My thigh was aching in pain. I needed medicine. I then looked up to find a shack sitting on a small mound. It was probably two miles ahead of me.
          As I came closer, a pathway seemed to form. I followed it until I came into contact with a fence gate. On a platform beside it, a rusted, gold plate read:
          “Please do not enter without access or request.”
          This plate was the last unimportant information that I wanted to hear, so I reached to open the gate. I closed it behind me and headed for the shack. The lawn was filled with weeds and the grass was leveled to my waist. Snow was everywhere. Not a single living organism has been here in probably ten years. I figured that there would at least be a neighbor nearby, but I seemed to be deliberately wrong.
          As I twisted the doorknob, a pile of snow fell on top of me.
          I guess the shack didn’t like my presence.
          I stepped onto the doormat and threw my ragged shoes on the hardwood floor. There was a rack beside me which held coats, scarfs, jackets, and a couple sweaters. I grabbed a coat. Then I wandered out of the main hallway to find myself in the kitchen.
          The kitchen was outdated and obnoxiously gross. A stench crammed the room while mildew covered the walls. I scanned the area to see if there was any food lying around, but there wasn’t a single crumb. I then checked the refrigerator which had nothing inside but a gallon of chunky milk. I decided to go to a different room. I walked into another hallway that was attached to the kitchen. I came to the very end, turned my head and happened to see a door. I scurried near the door and turned the doorknob. I came into a bathroom that was filled with Santas. I am not joking. There were Santas everywhere. There was probably a Christmas crisis going on with the people that used to live here, and they agreed upon the bathroom to store their whole supply of Santa Claus’s.
          Crazy people.
          Trying not to be anxious over the Santas was very difficult. Some were piled on top of the cabinets and others were scattered across the tile. Not to mention the bathtub was overflowing with them. I tried to gain my focus on the cabinets. I peered inside one which only held toothpaste and a hairbrush. Sticks of deodorants were stored in another. The last cabinet carried varieties of medicine. I conscientiously grabbed a handful of prescriptions. I read the labels carefully. Thankfully, I found an antibiotic, and a half-eaten nutrition bar sitting peacefully in a trash can. It was stale but my stomach was growling. I had to eat it.
          I made my way out of the shack. I was shocked to see that it was already night time. The moon had lit up the sky and clouds. I stood, mesmerized. I was positive that it was only the afternoon, but maybe I was just insane. I dozed off feeling mad. Then I awoke to find myself running.
          I ran past forests, caves, and even wildfires. My brain was trying to show me something. Something that was very important to our world.
          Then I finally stopped. I was silent and freezing cold. My thigh started to feel better after ingesting the antibiotic, and the bitter breeze made it feel like it had Icy Hot smothered on top. I was standing in front of New York City. No lights were on. No cars were running. There were no people.
          New York City was vacant and I was worried.
          “Where is everyone?”, I whispered to myself.
          I sprinted over to a telephone booth. I dialed all of my friends. No one answered. I dialed my parents. No one answered. I dialed my grandparents. No one answered.
          “WHERE IS EVERYONE!”, I shouted.
          I was furious. I paced back and forth trying to piece the nonsense together. Then I came to a conclusion. I was hidden in the woods for six years because I thought I belonged there, but I don’t belong there. I belong here. Right here in New York City.
I am last. I am the last person on earth. I am alive and still breathing. I don’t know why but I will find out.
          It’s been four weeks since I discovered that I was the last person on earth. I still tried calling my relatives and friends but it always goes straight to voicemail. I know that I am the last person on earth because my family lives in different parts of the world, and they always answer my calls! I don’t bother to worry about it anymore. I should just do whatever I want. I should go to an arcade or something. Or maybe a water park. No, I can’t. There wouldn’t be any lifeguards and the rides won’t work without electricity. Somehow the telephone booths still work.
          I’m more frustrated than I am upset. All my friends and family are dead, and the other people are gone as well. There are no firefighters, police officers, doctors… Heck there isn’t even a government alive!
          I guess I have to start a new life, alone.
I wandered around the hotdog stands surrounding the streets of New York City. There was a slight breeze whistling in my ear. Snow was falling down slowly and the sky was sapphire blue. I thought for a moment. Then I sat on a deserted bench near one of the hotdog stands. I thought again. I had to keep fighting this frustration, so I reminded myself one more time…. 
“I am last.”