Ice Cream Truck

A Story by Anso

Last man on Earth comes face to face with something. Was it always around? Or a figment of his imagination?

Day 1

My name is Abram Nim and I’m the last human on Earth. Let me explain a bit. A year or so ago (I’ve lost track of days) there was a terrible plague that swept the world. I remember watching on the news in my little studio apartment. People were dying left and right upon catching this virus. Except for me, I did indeed get it. But I did not die.

I traveled and boy did I travel, all across America and portions of South America. All I came across were rotting bodies, covered in maggots and dried blood, or scavenged by animals. I spent a better part of a year looking for someone, anyone. Anyone that was lucky enough, (or not lucky enough) to have lived through it. I could find no one and depression had set in on the last leg of the trip. I was in Peru when I gave up hope.

I slowly made my way back to America, Detroit specifically. It was where I was born; I wanted to go out. I eventually found my child hood home. It was a two-story house, once beautiful. Now it sat there, the wood decaying, paint stripping, the door was half-way off its hinge. I set up a noose and hung myself. Obviously it didn’t work, but I saw my potential life flash through my eyes and it wasn’t all bad. The rope snapped that day and for that I am glad. The rope left a rather nasty mark around my neck, a constant reminder that I need to keep fighting.

So, I moved into a big mansion at the edge of the city. The house looked over most of Detroit. Things don’t seem so bleak after all.

Day 8

Hello journal! I’m so terribly sorry for the long absence. It has been hard getting started here without the modern day luxury I was used to. I raided department stores and other various shops, getting stocked up on food and supplies for a garden. Also! A cow meandered into the back yard! She is indeed producing milk. And it is sweet. So sweet. I’m very lucky. One day I’ll make me some cheese!

Day 9

I’ve been thinking, let’s give you a name. “Journal” is so impersonal, especially with how lonely it is. Sue? Jane? Sally? OH! I like Sally. Hello Sally.

P.S Remind me to get some bug killer, I think there are bugs behind my mirror. I keep hearing this chatter, clicking sound.

Day 13

Today something weird happened Sally. I was getting ready for bed, taking a bath outside, when I heard something off in the distance. It hit me like a wet cloth, it was music. Although I couldn’t make it out, the music was there. I listened for what seemed like hours, but it was gone. It could be my mind playing tricks on me, because early today, I looked in the mirror and saw bugs on my face, but there was none.

P.S Never got the bug repellent, REMIND ME SALLY.

Day 14

It happened again! I was outside milking Sue the Cow when I heard the music. It was the same music an ice cream truck plays? You know the tune? Of course you don’t, you are a f*****g book. I’m irritated, I KNOW I heard it. Before I could even get up from milking it had stopped. I fear my mind may be playing cruel tricks on me.

Day 19

I was in town when I heard it again. I was at the bookstore, trying to figure out how to make cheese, when I saw it. I actually saw an ice cream truck drive by the window. I dropped my book and scrambled outside, knocking shelves over. But it was gone! Nothing, NADA! I’m so confused and a little frightened to be honest. I saw it! It was a white van, with a big plastic ice cream cone attached to the top. It was a pink cone. I’m just not sure if it was my eyes playing tricks or if there really is someone here that survived the plague.

Day 23

It started snowing. I was caught by surprise. I had forgotten all about the winter. I’m not ready for a Michigan winter. I have no wood for a fire and my garden is defiantly not going to grow. Looks like I will be eating canned goods for this winter. Sally, why didn’t you remind me?

Day 30

Hello Sally, can’t believe it’s only been a month since I settled here. I have gotten so much done. I have a huge pile of wood, (I discovered a mill nearby with already chopped wood!) my pantry is filled up with baked beans, peaches, the works. I am a little worried about my dear Sue the Cow and the chickens though. Can they handle the cold? Guess we will find out.

Day 39

It snowed at least two feet last night. It was crazy, the wind was howling like a pack of wolves. The shutters on the house were shaking, keeping me up. I didn’t get a lick of sleep last night. There is so much to do very little time to write to you my dear Sally. I promise to write more when I can.

Day 41

Sally. Today was tough. I ended up crying most of the evening. Once I started I couldn’t stop. It was like a fountain that couldn’t be turned off. I wish you were real, I wish I wasn’t so alone here. I don’t believe people should be left alone for too long. I’ve been alone for past “Too long” and I fear my mind is losing control of what is real or not. For example, I saw my first girlfriend in a mirror down stairs. It was just for a moment. She was behind me, smiling, gorgeous as ever. But she wasn’t there Sally and to top it all off, the ice cream truck made a guest appearance. Before I started bawling, I heard the music. It was so clear, like it was coming from right outside. But of course it wasn’t there when I checked. Just my mind playing with me.

Day 43

Sally. I am not crazy. I am not alone. I can feel his beady eyes on me. I know exactly where he is, as he knows where I am in the house, like we are linked by a chain. Let me try my best to explain what happened. Just for my sanity, I need to write this out.

I was getting ready for bed, I remember looking down at Sue the Cow from my window. I had made her a little fire. Little bits of snow were sticking to the window. I heard the music. It seemed muffled at first. Then it grew louder and louder, like it was coming up my driveway. I immediately slipped on some shoes and my jacket and went downstairs. I cautiously opened the door, just enough to peek my head out into the dark, cold night. There it was, the ice cream truck was just parked there. I walked out onto the steps. When I did, a side door opened up, illuminating the night. There was a bright sign, almost neon, showing all the different ice cream available, most of it colorful popsicles based on cartoon characters. Above that was a big red sign that read “Welcome”.

I slowly made my way down to the cab of the truck. The only sound in the air was my quick breaths and crunching of snow beneath my feet. I got to the cab. It was so ridiculously dark, like light was being sucked through a vacuum. My heart was pounding against my chest; every fiber in my body told me not to open the damned door. I wish I had listened to the voice of reason. We usually do such silly things as ignore the voice of reason, especially when curiosity is involved.

I opened the door slowly, it made a creaking noise, like it was rusted had hadn’t been opened in many years. A smell of rancid meat overwhelmed me. I turned and gagged, feeling my evening baked beans coming up fast. It never came; I put a hand on my nose and looked back into the cab. I could make an outline in the driver seat; the person was holding a big cigar. The ember was lighting up his hands, those hands were pale, like they have never seen sun. “Hello?” I said barley a whisper. No answer. “Hello? My name is Abram.” I said a little louder.

The cabin started to flood with light, like a switch had been turned. What I saw was horrifying. The person, no, the THING in the seat looked over at me. Its face was caked in what looked like dried blood, long matted hair covered his eyes, but I could see a deep yellow glow from beneath the hair. The worst part was its smile. That awful smile. It was literally grinning from ear to ear. I could see where the skin was torn, overstretched.

I backed up from the cab and turned to run into the house. I slammed the door shut and locked it. BAM! BAM! BAM! The door rattled in the frame as I locked it. BAM! BAM! BAM! The door shook again, I thought for sure it was gonna get ripped off. I saw movement by the window, moving to the right. The back door! I ran through the kitchen, panic almost over taking me, if that thing got in I was as good as dead. That much I knew. I got there first and locked it. I looked up and it was there. Inches from me, feeble glass separating it from me. Its smile seemed to grow, showing off perfect teeth. Big, white and perfect.

The teeth started to move, rapidly. Up and down, up and down. Like a chatter when someone was cold, although much faster. It had such a blank stare on its face, chattering its perfect teeth. It turned and seemed to glide to the back yard. I heard the chatter, and then I heard the screams of my cow. Things became silent again.

Sally, I have not seen the thing since the door. I refuse to look out the windows. Hell, I don’t have to. I know it’s there. I’m waiting till morning. Good things come in the morning right? It’s still a few hours from dawn. Longest hours of my life.

Day 44

Morning came. I moved to the kitchen by that point, holding a knife in my shaky hands all night. It was there, I saw it through the back door window. It was inches from the glass, just staring at me. I moved to the living room, its eyes never breaking contact with me. I looked out the window to see if it would follow. It was already there, chatting. I covered all the windows. Wood, cloth, anything I could find. I’m a prisoner and the thing outside was the warden.

Day 45

Mr. Chatty is what I named it. It chatters more at night than the day, but it’s just as bad. The sound is like nails on a chalkboard, making my body shudder and cringe. I can’t bear to ear it anymore. I plugged my ears full of some cotton I found, it helps some.

Day 46

I’m seeing Chatty inside the house. Just out of the corner of my eyes, I see him in the dark corners of the house. I can never bring myself to full on make eye contact with it. But he is certainly there. Sometimes I feel like he is right behind me, breathing his disgusting air on the nape of my neck. I don’t remember the last time I was able to sleep. Every time I try to close my eyes, Chatty flashes in my mind, jolting me up.

Day 47

I’m going out there Sally. I can’t take it anymore. I have to fight it. I have to win or die. The smell is overwhelming. My stomach is in constant turmoil, the sounds from Chatty chattering his perfect f*****g teeth makes my body and mind wither in agony. It’s a slow death, a torture. Wish me luck Sally.

-Abram Nim

Jake and his friend Gordon were cutting through an abandoned automotive plant in Detroit. It was a much shorter walk than taking the surface roads, especially when it was this cold outside. “Dude, my mom would kill me if she found out we were cutting through here.” said Jake, slowing down from their brisk pace. “We should not be out here. Who knows what could be in there?” he said. “Dude. Relax. We are almost out of here. Besides, it’s kinda cool. Like, look at all this stuff.” Gordon said while pausing to pick up an old radio.

Jake was unsure about the “cool” objects scattered around, but he didn’t argue. “Let’s just hurry up.” He said, eyeing gang related graffiti on the buildings.

“Alright man, geez you’re such a wuss. When did that happen?” Gordon said, catching up with Jake.

“When I got the creeps about this place.” Jake said, shuddering.

They walked on for some time, before Gordon left Jake’s side and went into a building.

“Dude! No, come on.” Jake said, stopping in the path.

“Jake, man, come here and check this out.” Gordon yelled, his voice muffled by the empty building. Jake sighed, and looked at the end of the path. Almost out of here he thought to himself. He went into the building Gordon had called from, trying to avoid the broken glass everywhere.

“So? What is the deal Gord?” Jake said coming up behind him. Gordon picked something up he couldn’t see. “Look at this.” He said, thrusting a dirty, pocket-sized book into Jake’s hands.

It had a leather casing to it, tied by a shoe lace. He undid the lace and opened the first page. It read: “My name is Abram Nim and I’m the last person on Earth.” “It just looks like some old journal Gord. Can we go now? It’s getting dark.” Jake said, holding the book at his side, looking outside. Indeed it was getting dark.

Gordon was still kneeled down looking at something on the floor. Jake came by his side and knelt. There was a visible stain on the floor, almost had a reddish tint to it. “What do you think that is Jake?” Gordon said, touching the stain. “It looks like blood.” Jake said without a hesitation. Gordon drew his hand back like a whip. They both stood and left. “Yeah you’re right, let’s go.” Gordon said, taking the lead to the path out of there. Jake looked down at the book. He wrapped it up tightly with the lace and shoved it into his coat pocket.