In a small office on the ground floor of the house, I found a dictionary and I looked up Jack’s word like I promised him I would. Aftermath. I didn’t know it had two meanings. The first was obvious, the one that everybody knows: something that follows after a disastrous or unfortunate event, like the aftermath of a war. But it was the second definition that struck me: a new growth of grass following mowing or ploughing. Jack was a deeper man than he’d ever admit. I thought our little community was the aftermath, but he saw the greenery which is slowly covering everything as the aftermath of the human race.
Michael used to say that all any of us can do now is make the most of the time we have left. That’s exactly what we’re going to do.
We are the last of the living.
Also by David Moody
Hater
Dog Blood
Them or Us
Autumn
Autumn: The City
Autumn: Purification
Autumn: Disintegration
David Moody is the author of the Hater and Autumn series.