[ WP ] On Judgement Day , every single person is left behind and you 're the only one who is saved , because you believed something no one else did .

I don ’ t know exactly when humanity vanished. I live alone, deep in the Sierra Nevada mountains in Northern California. I like to say I ’ m a recluse by choice—the inspired artist, communing with nature—but it ’ s probably more accurate to say I ’ m in hiding. The closest I come to having any human contact is when I have groceries delivered Tuesday morning, and the deliveryman is long gone by the time I wake up. 
 
 So, the first inkling I had that anything was wrong came on a foggy Tuesday morning, when my groceries didn ’ t show up. This was not, strictly speaking, a problem: I had vegetables, dairy, and sandwich meat left over from the previous week ’ s delivery, as well as enough canned goods to last me a few years. 
 
 I decided to wait and see if my groceries came on Wednesday. 
 
 My groceries did not come on Wednesday, and I was on my last two eggs. 
 
 “ I walk a lonely road…dah da dah duh dah and I walk alone… ” I sung to myself, as I beat the eggs for my morning omelet. My singing was decidedly half-hearted, as it had been for a few days now, ever since the radio started playing nothing but static. 
 
 It wasn ’ t until Friday that I mustered up the willpower to lug the radio to my car, and began the drive to the nearest town, Whittier Pass. 
 
 “ Come on, love ”, I muttered to myself. “ It ’ s an adventure ”. It ’ s the first time I ’ d left my property in years. It ’ s more of an exile, a forced march. 
 
 I drove in silence. There hadn ’ t been a radio in my car since I ripped out all the GPS functions a decade ago. 
 
 Whittier Pass was quiet, still, except for the sounds of birds and the rush of Whittier creek. Most years, Whittier Pass was teeming with winter sports enthusiasts by spring—but perhaps it was earlier in the year than I thought. I snorted to myself. It ’ s not as though I kept a calendar. 
 
 *OK, stop. * 
 
 “ Niko? ” I would recognize the sound of his voice anywhere. I ran through the parking lot, shouting his name. I searched under empty cars, behind trash cans. I burst into the grocery store. And then I sat down, slowly, in the frozen foods aisle. 
 
 It had been twelve years since I last saw Niko ’ s face, and ten since I last heard his voice. Those last two years of communication were entirely one way, my therapist assured me. 
 
 Leaving my house was a mistake. 
 
 *Cory? Please don ’ t panic. * 
 
 “ Funny, yay, crazy girl in aisle three. ” I dragged myself closer to the refrigerated shelves, swung open one of the freezer doors, and grabbed a mini ice-cream—the kind that has a spoon just under the lid. “ Go away, Niko. ” 
 
 *Cory. * 
 
 “ You know, ” I said, shoveling ice cream into my mouth, “ If this is some kind of test, I ’ d rather not right now, brain. I ’ ll go get my meds upped, and I won ’ t even put it off for a week. ” 
 
 *You ’ ve already passed the test Cory. * And there was Niko, sitting next to me on the grimy tile of a glorified 7-11. *In fact, you ’ re the only one who ’ s passed. * 
 
 “ Gods, what I would give to have a mental breakdown in private, ” I groused. “ I think I like you better as a disembodied voice. ” 
 
 Niko grinned. *That ’ s not what you used to say Corgi. You seemed rather attached to my body. * 
 
 I blushed, and set down my empty ice cream cup. “ Shhh! We ’ re in public. Stop embarrassing me. ” 
 
 *Actually Cory, * Niko murmured, *what I ’ ve been trying to show you for the past week now is that ‘ public ’ as a concept has almost ceased to exist, since it requires other people. I was really hoping you ’ d figure this out by yourself, since there ’ s no good way to say it, but the rapture has happened. * Niko leapt to his feet. *THESE ARE THE END TIMES. * 
 
 Lightning flashed in the frozen food aisle. 
 
 *And, * Niko said, hair on end, *You ’ re saved. You ’ re the only one. Everybody else is back on earth. * 
 
 Before my “ year off from school ” became a permanent thing, I got top grades, so I made some pretty quick deductions, starting with: 
 
 “ I was right, ” I hissed, glaring at Niko, “ All this time, I wasn ’ t crazy. You were there, at your own funeral. I really saw you in the woods! For years, I thought I was insane, and God knows what those antipsychotics have been doing to me since. ” 
 
 *Please stop taking my name in vain, Corgi. And I made sure the antipsychotics were sugar pills. * 
 
 I had loved Niko since fifth grade, and he had been the only person to ever love me back. His seemingly limitless capacity for kindness and self-sacrifice had always vexed me, but never did it frustrate me more than the day he tried to talk down the shooter during sixth period Honors Pre-Calculus. 
 
 I had never believed he died. I couldn ’ t. I was more alone than I ever had been before. 
 
 I thought back to what little I remembered from mandatory religion classes at our Lutheran high school. “ The end times involve a lot of blood-boiling plague-and-pestilence human suffering, right? ” 
 
 Niko winced *That ’ s right, Cory. I ’ m sorry, but you ’ re the only one who believed, and those are the rules. * 
 
 I would like to say I felt something approaching remorse, when I learned that all of humanity, minus one, was suffering unimaginable horrors. 
 
 “ I ’ m just glad you came back from the dead, Niko. I ’ ve been lonely without you. ” 
 
 *Well, technically, * Niko said brightly, *I never actually died. But yeah, Cory, I missed you too. *
