The Last Place on Earth

James Judson Harmon
Last Place on Earth, by James
Judson Harmon

Project Gutenberg's The Last Place on Earth, by James Judson Harmon
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
Title: The Last Place on Earth
Author: James Judson Harmon
Release Date: November 9, 2007 [EBook #23426]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LAST
PLACE ON EARTH ***

Produced by Robert Cicconetti, Jana Srna and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net

Naturally an undertaker will get the last word. But shouldn't he wait
until his clients are dead?

THE LAST PLACE ON EARTH
By JIM HARMON
Illustrated by Gaughan

I
Sam Collins flashed the undertaker a healthy smile, hoping it wouldn't
depress old Candle too much. He saluted. The skeletal figure in endless
black nodded gravely, and took hold of Sam Collins' arm with a death
grip.
"I'm going to bury you, Sam Collins," the undertaker said.
The tall false fronts of Main Street spilled out a lake of shadow, a canal
of liquid heat that soaked through the iron weave of Collins' jeans and
turned into black ink stains. The old window of the hardware store
showed its age in soft wrinkles, ripples that had caught on fire in the
sunset. Collins felt the twilight stealing under the arms of his tee-shirt.
The overdue hair on the back of his rangy neck stood up in attention. It
was a joke, but the first one Collins had ever known Doc Candle to
make.
"In time, I guess you'll bury me all right, Doc."
"In my time, not yours, Earthling."
"Earthling?" Collins repeated the last word.
The old man frowned. His face was a collection of lines. When he
frowned, all the lines pointed to hell, the grave, decay and damnation.
"Earthling," the undertaker repeated. "Earthman? Terrestrial? Solarian?
Space Ranger? Homo sapiens?"
Collins decided Candle was sure in a jokey mood. "Kind of makes you

think of it, don't it, Doc? The spaceport going right up outside of town.
Rocketships are going to be out there taking off for the Satellite, the
Moon, places like that. Reminds you that we are Earthlings, like they
say in the funnies, all right."
"Not outside town."
"What?"
"Inside. Inside town. Part of the spaceship administration building is
going to go smack in the middle of where your house used to be."
"My house is."
"For less time than you will be yourself, Earthling."
"Earthling yourself! What's wrong with you, Doc?"
"No. I am not an Earthling. I am a superhuman alien from outer space.
My mission on Earth is to destroy you."
* * * * *
Collins pulled away gently. When you lived in a town all your life and
knew its people, it wasn't unusual to see some old person snap under
the weight of years.
"You have to destroy the rocketship station, huh, Doc, before it sends
up spaceships?"
"No. I want to kill you. That is my mission."
"Why?"
"Because," Candle said, "I am a basically evil entity."
The undertaker turned away and went skittering down Main Street, his
lopsided gait limping, sliding, hopping, skipping, at a refined leisurely
pace. He was a collection of dancing, straight black lines.

Collins stared after the old man, shook his head and forgot about him.
He moved into the hardware store. The bell tinkled behind him. The
store was cramped with shadows and the smell of wood and iron. It was
lined off as precisely as a checkerboard, with counters, drawers,
compartments.
Ed Michaels sat behind the counter, smoking a pipe. He was a
handsome man, looking young in the uncertain light, even at fifty.
"Hi, Ed. You closed?"
"Guess not, Sam. What are you looking for?"
"A pound of tenpenny nails."
Michaels stood up.
Sarah Comstock waddled energetically out of the back. Her sweet,
angelic face lit up with a smile. "Sam Collins. Well, I guess you'll want
to help us murder them."
"Murder?" Collins repeated. "Who?"
"Those Air Force men who want to come in here and cause all the
trouble."
"How are you going to murder them, Mrs. Comstock?"
"When they see our petition in Washington, D.C., they'll call those men
back pretty quick."
"Oh," Collins said.
Mrs. Comstock produced the scroll from her voluminous handbag.
"You want to sign, don't you? They're going to put part of the airport on
your place. They'll tear down your house."
"They can't tear it down. I won't sell."

"You know government men. They'll just take it and give you some
money for it. Sign right there at the top of
Continue reading on your phone by scaning this QR Code

 / 13
Tip: The current page has been bookmarked automatically. If you wish to continue reading later, just open the Dertz Homepage, and click on the 'continue reading' link at the bottom of the page.