People once assumed that the end of the world would come in a string of events, culminating in the coming of the Messiah or Shiva or any other deity. Or perhaps that, in the year 2012, the galactic alignment would cause some sort of calamity on a gargantuan scale, causing the human race to perish.

But it didn’t happen that way.

They came from ships, hovering above in the sky. Ten, then twenty, then thirty – eventually numbering in the countless thousands. Bit by bit, they blasted at the earth, out of anger and malice – and because they didn’t have the technology to do it any quicker.

The earth shook, volcanoes erupted, billions perished. It was the day the world ended.

But the human race was not extinct – not quite. Logan Harper had been vacationing on the distant world of Aaral. At least, that was the official word of the aliens, whose language he didn’t understand. Instead, he was more like a prisoner.

Their cold gray hands clamped around his arms as they led him into a darkened room. They locked him inside, but he wasn’t alone. There, with him, was a young woman. She looked absolutely terrified.

“Do you know what has happened?” she asked.

“No,” he said. “But I know I’ve been taken from home.”

“I don’t think there is a home anymore,” she said.

“So, this is how it happened,” he said with a rueful chuckle. “I would’ve thought it’d be a bit more cinematic.”

“They want something from us,” said the young woman.

“Well, whatever it is, they’re not going to get it, the alien bastards.”

And so, there they were: the last two surviving human beings in existence, confused and alone.