The year is 3015, and I am the last human on Earth.

The apocalypse wasn't caused by one major cataclysmic event, but rather, by several things all working in tandem. Wars, famines, plagues, climate change causing massive floods, machines turning sentient, and of course the zombies, can't forget the zombies, all worked together to create a world in which I became the last human on earth. Somehow immune to the zombie virus and the various plagues. Somehow miraculously surviving every hit as it came. I'm not someone with great strength or great intelligence. Some people are just born lucky, and I guess I'm one of them. Or perhaps I am the most remarkably unlucky person, to live through all of these calamities and never get a chance to rest. Perhaps, this is Hell.

Still, I found this place, at least. The last spot on Earth that's not a barren wasteland. That's safe from the robots and the zombies. And so, I built a farm, completely off the grid, and now I grow crops. I don't eat meat anymore . . . since the animals also became infected with the zombie virus. Those that weren't mutated by nuclear radiation and pollution. It's too bad, too. I miss steak.

As I'm tending to my crops, I hear a loud, distorted voice from the sky.

"Yeah, this planet will do . . . ."

I haven't had to talk in many years. I'm not sure my voice would even come out if I tried. It'd be pointless to say anything, anyway. They wouldn't hear me. I look up to see if I can find a ship or anything, but I can't. Well, this is either a hallucination or another apocalypse is about to start. So I do what I always do when I know something bad is going to happen. I hide.

I sprint toward my house. Once I get there, there's a latch in the floor I can pull up to access the underground tunnels I dug. I knew someday it would come to this. But before I know it, a giant spaceship hovers above me, then lands in front of me, destroying my house. I immediately turn around and start running the opposite way, but the creatures in the ship grab me with their slimy tentacles. I'm restrained.

"You. What are you? We don't see any of your kind around. Are you endangered?" the creature asks.

"I . . . ." My voice comes out cracked and hoarse. I look down at the ground.

"No worries. We will just read your mind, if there's even an intelligent thought in it," says the creature. It puts one of its tentacles on my head and . . . flashes of everything that has happened to me circle through my mind. The alien backs off.

"I . . . I see . . . ," it says in a tone of abject terror. It presses a button on its intercom. "This planet will not do! I repeat! This planet will not do! It is fucked up!"

And I laugh. Well, more like I try to laugh. It comes out more of a cough and a wheeze.

"We will be bringing an endangered species with us to protect it," the creature continues. And that gets me to stop laughing.

"Wh . . . wha -?" Before I can say another word, something is injected into my neck. And everything goes black.

- - - -

And so, in a galaxy far, far, away, I am on display. Before the apocalypse, I was a zookeeper. The irony's not lost on me, that I find myself as a zoo exhibit now. Sometimes, I think this is a better life. I don't have to scrimp and scrounge. Food and water is always provided for me. But, even though things are great and easy here . . .

There's no place like home.

And I think I found a way out. I don't know if it'll work, but since I've been so good at running away from everything, well. I think it can work. Wish me luck.