The Man: I told the boy when you dream about bad things happening, it means you're still fighting and you're still alive. It's when you start to dream about good things that you should start to worry.
The Man: If I were God, I would have made the world just so and no different. And so I have you... I have you.
The Man: All I know is that the boy was my charge. And if he was not the word of God. Then God never spoke.
Wife: [she throws two pistol cartridges on the table] That's all we have left. I should have done it a long time ago. I should've done it when we had more bullets. I don't know why I listened to you. They're gonna catch up with us and they're going to kill us. They're gonna rape me, and then they're gonna rape your son and they're gonna kill us and eat us.
The Man: Whatever it takes...
Wife: Stop it.
The Man: I told you...
Wife: Stop it!
The Man: I will do anything. Anything.
Wife: Like what? Hmmm? I don't even know why I ask you. I should just go ahead and empty every goddamn bullet into my brain and leave you with nothing. That's what I should do.
The Man: Please don't talk like that.
[both turn and look at the boy who's playing in the next room]
Wife: You're right. There's nothing left to talk about. My heart was ripped out of me the night he was born.
The Man: We have to. We will survive this. We are not gonna quit. We're not gonna quit.
Wife: I don't want to just survive. Don't you get it? I don't wanna. Why won't you let me take him with me?
[Man reaches for the pistol, but she grabs it]
Wife: Don't touch it. I would take him with me if it weren't for you. You know that.
The Man: Listen to yourself. You sound... crazy.
Wife: [Wife pushes the pistol back across table to him] Other families are doing it.
The Boy: [they just ate two crickets after narrowly escaping from the cannibal house where people are locked in the basement until ready to be eaten] We would never eat anybody, would we?
The Man: No, of course not.
The Boy: No matter how hungry we were?
The Man: Uh nuh.
The Boy: Even if we were starving?
The Man: We're starving now.
The Boy: Because we're the good guys.
The Man: Yes.
The Boy: And we're carrying the fire.
The Man: [with a very proud smile] Yes.
The Man: The clocks stopped at one seventeen. There was a long shear of bright light, then a series of low concussions. I think it's October but I can't be sure. I haven't kept a calender for years. Each day is more gray than the one before. It is cold and growing colder as the world slowly dies. No animals have survived, and all the crops are long gone. Someday all the trees in the world will fall. The roads are peopled by refugees towing carts, and gangs carrying weapons, looking for fuel and food.
The Man: Within a year there were fires on the ridges and deranged chanting. There has been cannibalism. Cannibalism is the great fear. Mostly I worry about food, always food. Food and the cold and our shoes. Sometimes I tell the boy old stories of courage and justice, difficult as they are to remember. All I know is the child is my warrant, and if he is not the word of God, then God never spoke.
The Man: Listen, we have to talk. That man back there... There's not many good guys left, that's all. We have to watch out for the bad guys. We have to just... keep carrying the fire.
The Boy: What fire?
The Man: The fire inside you.
The Boy: Are we still the good guys?
The Man: Yes, we're still the good guys. Of course we are.
The Boy: And we always will be? No matter what happens?
The Man: Always will.
The Man: How would you know that, that you were the last man alive?
Old Man: Well, I don't guess you'd know it. You'd just be it.
The Man: Maybe God would know.
Old Man: God wouldn't know what... God wouldn't know what he knows. If there is a God up there, he would have turned his back on us by now. And whoever made humanity will find no humanity here. No, sir. No, sir. So beware. Beware.
The Man: Do you ever wish you would die?
Old Man: No. It's foolish to ask for luxuries in times like these.
The Man: [to the boy] I will kill anyone who touches you. Because that's my job.
The Gang Member: You ain't gonna shoot that thing. You ain't got but two shells. Maybe one. And they'll hear the shot.
The Man: Maybe. But you won't. Because that bullet will be through your head and in your brain before you can hear it. To hear it, you'll need a frontal lobe, and things with names like "colliculus" and "temporal gyrus". And you won't have 'em anymore, because they'll just be soup.
The Gang Member: You a doctor?
The Man: I'm not anything.
Old Man: I knew this was coming; this or something like it. There were warnings. Some people thought it was a con. I always believed in it.
The Man: Did you try to get ready for it?
Old Man: What would you do? Even if you knew what to do, you wouldn't know what to do. But supposing
Old Man: you were the last man alive?
The Man: How would you now that, that you were the last man alive?
Old Man: Well, I don't guess you'd know it. You'd just *be* it.
The Man: Maybe God would know.
Old Man: God would know what... God wouldn't know what he knows. If there is a God up there, he would have turned his back on us by now. And whoever made humanity will find no humanity here.
The Boy: It's bubbly
Old Man: I knew this was coming. They were warning us.
Wife: My heart was ripped out of me the night he was born.
The Man: The roads are peopled by gangs, looking for food.
Wife: They're gonna catch up with us. They're gonna catch up with us and they are going to kill us.
The Man: [gleefully to boy] What do you want for breakfast?