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 _Before reading this story, prepare yourself for a
 jolt and a chill in capsule form. O. Henry could
 have been proud of it. It could well become a
 minor classic._


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.