A man sits on a stony dusty hill, before him lays a bleak plain where on the horizon four large beasts hunt anything that breathes. Without immediate cover, he knows he will be found. It is these beasts that have wiped his people out, now, he is the last. He has seen and done things that no man should ever have to do. Why try to fight in a world that does everything to grind you into dust? The beasts have withstood everything that was fired at them and only hungered for more.

When they first appeared they were seen as some strange miracle, with so few species left, here was a new one. How come no-one ever heard of them? How do they procreate? What do they eat? The last question was easy; everything, soon it was everyone. When they went on the rampage from New Limerick Zoo, the Rangers were called in. They had killed hundreds in just a few hours. People protested the killing of some of the few animals left, they formed a human barrier to stop the rangers from getting near the shopping centre that the Four were currently trawling through. The barrier was a joke, once the Four smelled all that meat in one place they came running faster than was thought possible. The crowd ran but it was too late. The Rangers opened fire hitting the crowd as well as the creatures. The bullets ricocheted off their scaly hides. Looking at one another in confusion, the Rangers were themselves scared. One of them pulled out a rocket launcher, he fired it off as one of the Four was bearing down on him, and all it did was enrage the creature.

They neither sleep nor rest. They just devour. With all the old world great weapons either used or inert, there was nothing left to stop them. Each city fell before them. Each time it was the same story. They would approach a city, everyone would panic, in the rush many would get out but so many more were left behind. As the months passed, the great cities fell until no one would go there. After a few years, the big towns were gone. Impossibly fast and strong, no walls could contain them. The great fire pits just spurned them on. Eventually all that existed were nomadic tribes burning their tracks, always on watch and always splitting up on the first sign of contact. Piece by piece the numbers dropped. Everyone traveled in search of ever more rare food and shelter.

Now he sits alone, too tired to run, too broken to fight on. As a tear runs down his cheek leaving behind a canal of dustless skin, he shudders. The tear drops to the ground washing away some dust to reveal an island of green on a sea of brown. He sees it and erupts with a single laugh. The Beasts begin to sprint. A plant in the wastelands? He has never seen it in all his life. He reaches for his empty canteen and uses the last few drops to water it. There are three equal leaves coming from a single stem. It glows and even burns him when he touches it. The ground trembles as the great beasts are almost upon him. He grasps the plant to hold it in his last moments even though it burns. There is a sudden silence as they beasts have leaped in the air, he pulls the plant breaking it from its roots and everything stops. A bright green light illuminates the plain and a searing wind clouds everything in dust. When the dust settles, the hill, beasts and man are no more and the world turns as it always has.