In this gripping episode, we delve into the first part of George Stewart's novel, "Earth Abides," brought to life by the performance of John Boehner as Isherwood Williams. The story unfolds with a chilling premise: a deadly virus has wiped out most of humanity, leaving behind a world devoid of human life but filled with the remnants of civilization. Isherwood, an ecology student, finds himself alone in this new world, grappling with the silence and the eerie absence of people. As he navigates through deserted towns and cities, he encounters the stark reality of a world reclaimed by nature and animals, pondering the fate of humanity and his own survival.
As Isherwood journeys through this post-apocalyptic landscape, he meets other survivors, each coping with the new reality in their own way. The episode explores themes of isolation, survival, and the resilience of life amidst desolation. The narrative is a haunting reflection on the fragility of human existence and the enduring power of nature. Join us as we embark on this thought-provoking adventure, setting the stage for the continuation of Isherwood's story in the next episode.
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[00:00:00]
Unknown:
Life is romantic adventure. Wanna get away from it all? We offer you Today, escape brings you one of the most unusual and terrifying stories of recent years. It is a story of such scope that the producers of escape in order to dramatize its full impact will present in two episodes. So now with the performance of John Boehner as Isherwood Williams, we bring you part one of George Stewart's powerful novel, Earth's If a killing type of virus strain should suddenly arrive by mutation, it could, because of the rapid transportation in which we indulge nowadays, be carried to the far corners of the earth and cause the death of millions of people.
If you should awake some morning, tomorrow morning, let's say, if you should wake to a man dead world where virtually all of human life had been dissolved from the face of the earth, leaving behind only buildings, bridges, machines, If you should awake to such a world tomorrow morning, what would you do? Where would you go? My name is Isherwood Williams. I'm a student of ecology. I was in Northern California wilderness gathering specimens of rock, plants, and animal life. I was alone and had been for a month. Running up to a sharp ledge one day, but the lover suction come.
Then I lay down in my cup. I felt sick. Sick because of the poison. Sick because I was alone. Weak. I was awakened by the door. Harry? Harry, the kids. You're gonna go live I think. Oh, I'm glad you came. I'm fixed. On. Let's get out of here. I'm sick. Come on. Why? Why why did they leave me when they knew I was sick? What were they afraid of? I tried to stand. My knees were like sponge rubber. But finally, I was able to stumble to my chest of drawers. And I saw the hammer, my rock hammer, resting on the top of the chest. And it suddenly became the most important thing in the world to me.
If I can lift this hammer, I told myself, I will live. I wrapped my fingers at the handle. And I lifted it slowly. And let it down. I breathed a sigh of relief. I would live. I would live. In the morning, I felt better. I got up, packed the car. In every town, Hudsonville, about 10 miles to the south. They take care of me in Hudsonville. Consider, if you will, the case of the that once inhabited Christmas Island, a small bit of tropical treasure some 200 miles south of Java. In 2200, a new disease rang up. The rats grew universally susceptible and soon were dying by the power.
In spite of great numbers, in spite of an abundant supply of food, in spite of a rapid breeding rate, The species is now extinct. Hudsonville. The familiar houses, doors, taverns, but no one in the streets. A hen scratched plaid unit dust. A lonely dog was howling somewhere. I got out of the car and walked into the left hand. The place was empty. Hey. Is anybody here? Who? Hey. Silent. Deathly silent. On the counter, I saw a newspaper. Are now concentrated at the Barclays Center. Keep tuned to your radio. Radio us. The radio in my car. I turned the dial to the most powerful station in the vicinity.
In static. In the static. Desperately, I twisted it from one end of the van to the other, playing for a human voice, bar of music, anything. Silence. Silence and death. I've been back in the scene. I've got that wait for a minute for a while. Look at the paper again. The last On the way, I helped myself to a tank full of gas at the station. Oddly enough, the pumps were still working. Electricity still flows when the generators and the lights still glazed. I wondered how I had survived. That's the snake venom that contracted the virus. Perhaps the between rude and the super dead.
But somewhere, someone else was alive. And then at the cabin door, there must be others, but where? I've had some cows in the pasture. Smile to myself at the irony. The world belonged once again to the animals. Ecological observation. Pedigree means nothing now. The prize, which is life itself, will go to the keenest brain, the strongest limb, the strongest jaw. Man, they need nothing from man. I passed four or five cars in the highway abandoned. The part of the long I spotted another car, and there was a man inside. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. I said wake up. Hey. Hello. Come on. I don't leave you alone. Now you just leave me alone. I said wake up. Hey.
What's your name? Your name. Your name. Just a second. Come on. Come on. Don't go back to sleep. What's your name? Bravo. That was my name. 58 bottles. Yellow telephone directly. I'm the only one left. The dirtiest gunk of the lot. What am I doing alive? San Francisco. City of San Francisco. And make it follow through concrete with a dense piece of streets. It's ghosts of newspapers flowing across alleys. Across the Bay Bridge, stretched over the plank walk, a single car coupe, parked in an emergency recess with a toll for better now. The Bay Bridge, a final monument to the greatness I'll come into a chair and cry.
Observation. The desert and the wilderness began a long time ago. Men came only in the latter centuries. They captured the springs and wore fake trails with the mesquite bushes. They laid rails, spun wire, paved long straight roads. After a while, men were gone, leaving their small words behind them. In a thousand years, years, at a conservative estimate, man will be a forgotten strong in the jungle. Where would I go? I have no idea. I only knew I had to keep going. Change of grace was my only comfort now. The only way I had was convincing myself that there was still life in the world.
66 to the giant Southwest. The towns, the empty dead towns, the dust blown silent towns passed me by. One that's another. Demon, Flagstaff, And, also, the sprinklers were still going in the front. And stop. In Fairfield, Arkansas, I hit me in the best battle courts of the most luxurious hotel. I slept and ate from the leavings of 150,000,000 people. All the wealth of America has been bequeathed to me. All its wealth and its death. Three days later, I pulled up the Pulaski Skyway, crossed George Washington Bridge, came to Manhattan, landed, low decaying corpse with the fountain, the stable mink in the windows.
The silly traffic lights changing color at naked intersections. Manhattan, a soulless and dead. That's stopped between its rivers. The city will remain for a long time. Salt and bricks, concrete and asphalt, glass, hand deal gently with them. A window pane loosens, vibrate, break, and adjust your window. Lightning strike, loosen the tiles of a corner. The shade trees on the avenue die in their shallow. Pockets. That's why from the 50 Ninth Floor. If he dies slowly. In the afternoon, I saw smoke from the chimney in the Bronx. I drove to the house, No, Carson.
How do you do? Come on in. You're in time for such a Oh, thanks. I just need to this is, this is Carson. How are you? Where's Monty for Brown? Thanks. Where are you from? California. Where Hello, Rochester. We're just finishing a hand in hand. See, look here. Isn't that a beauty? The well, the television set. Yes. Yeah. It's beautiful. It's a combination radio television set radio player. I always wanted a set like that. Yeah. Put something on you. Yeah. I always wanted a set like that. Jen,
[00:17:51] Unknown:
there you are. I owe you $10,000.
[00:17:54] Unknown:
Give it to me tomorrow. There's a best of window at the Chase National. All the money you want. I carry 50,000 with me all the time just to, you know, to save time. Of course you can't buy anything with it now, but it was a nice car you alone. How about some salami? No. Thanks. I just ate. Oh, yeah. Say, you you like to ask them? I'm not much a card. Oh, class I could teach you. Simple life, love me, but a little different. What I was wondering was why don't you stay here? I got everything you'd want right here in The Bronx. You get close. The lady breaks the window at IJ Fox. You should see some of the diamonds I got. And this is Carson at Tiffany's yesterday. Jeez. Where are you going? I better get started. Well, where? There ain't no place to go. Well, thanks. I wish you could stay with that. Oh, thanks. Goodbye.
How long would they last? Through the winter? There'd be no central heating, even breaking furniture in the fireplace. They were like highly bred spaniels of Diconese who walked the city's streets at the end of their leashes. They would die with the city a season or two later of pneumonia and accidents. And Nico in Oklahoma with his heart to the land. He would survive. No Carson and his new wife? Nah. They were waiting for death at the card table. Two weeks later, I was in San Francisco again. The streets were just as bare as my left. The lights were still on, but now water flowed still from the process.
But San Francisco had a new population, the dogs. They hunted in packs, all three bound together in a common search for food. Danes, Dalmatians, Scotties, toys, all of them. The dogs had taken over the city. I decided to move back into the house because of the familiar things. Late one afternoon, I went out to look around the neighborhood. I thought it was too late. I looked around me, I saw myself in the lounge. I could. They climb to the window bearing their things, their red wings wet with hunger. But I would say Then the night.
And that night, the lights went out. The lights. The lights. The lights. What happened to the lights? I looked out over the city. It was black. Black as death. The age of electricity was over. Finished. And there were candles. Mom kept them for ceremonial occasions in the display, and I found myself hoarding matches and flashlight candles traveling among the corners. It was only night, day. Time had lost its meaning. And I had food and clothing. And then I had victory, the Bible. And I read the bible.
[00:21:39] Unknown:
Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth because I love this better than wine.
[00:21:49] Unknown:
There was a faint of unmistakable light burning that night a mile away in Marlboro. I got into the car and pulled to the light. I parked the car. I reached for my hammer. In the window, a shadow moved. As I approached the door, a flashlight popped me in its lair. I stopped. Dead still. I waited for someone to say, put your hands up. Who are you? There was a breath of perfume.
[00:22:18] Unknown:
That's a nice car.
[00:22:21] Unknown:
I can pick up a better one in any street corner. Come on in. Thanks. How about some coffee? Sounds good.
[00:22:37] Unknown:
I've come in good and fine before this.
[00:22:40] Unknown:
And this all about tonight, I decided to investigate.
[00:22:44] Unknown:
I saw your life last time. You live down on San Lorenzo Drive. Why didn't you come in?
[00:22:51] Unknown:
Woman's calm.
[00:22:54] Unknown:
Man's supposed to come after the woman.
[00:22:57] Unknown:
That was before. And no rules now.
[00:23:01] Unknown:
What was their habits?
[00:23:03] Unknown:
What's your breath? Yeah. Black's fine. Alright.
[00:23:08] Unknown:
I don't want you to simply the first one I've missed. There were five or six of them. They saw the light and it came in. They had coffee and I took them on.
[00:23:19] Unknown:
What about me? I don't know you. I'm clean, well educated, healthy, young. Is it a good thing? I dislike turnips, candies, stupid people. What's your name? You laugh? Oh my god. What's your name? Isherwood, my mother's maiden name. Everybody calls me Ish.
[00:23:42] Unknown:
Oh my, Emma. And then Ish.
[00:23:46] Unknown:
Nobody's gonna write your love song for that company No. I'm not imagine they will. I like you. Coffee, you better know now. Emma, Emma, will you come and live with me? I don't know you. But is that a no? That I like you? You like me? If we're both alone. Emma? Emma.
[00:24:20] Unknown:
Emma. Ceremony. I need a bible.
[00:24:24] Unknown:
Bible?
[00:24:26] Unknown:
Yeah. I'm a Magdalene. I've never used it. I just had it.
[00:24:35] Unknown:
Your hand. Now we shall be together always. Emma was warm and understanding. Good woman a healthy woman. Soon there was a baby to be born. I have read some books, but I couldn't read enough. I stood by her during a night and tried to help me. When the morning came, we had a son, the first born since the great disaster. Then there was a matter of time. We won't need to know the exact hours. No. That's true. The clock has stopped, but what's the difference? We eat when we're hungry and we're tired and go to bed. It's a month and a year.
[00:25:30] Unknown:
It's important to know when you're in.
[00:25:32] Unknown:
That's what I've been doing out on the porch.
[00:25:34] Unknown:
What is that thing out there? It's a transit.
[00:25:37] Unknown:
Yeah. I set it towards the sun and when the sun reaches the winter solstice, I know that to be the shortest day of the year. And that will be our New Year. New Year's Day isn't the shortest day of the year? December twenty first is. And we'll make that our New Year. Anne's always been trying to get close to that date for the New Year. Calendar makers always went off. How long will it be? Two days.
[00:26:00] Unknown:
And then it'll be nineteen
[00:26:02] Unknown:
what? Oh, no. Under the old calendar. This will be our year one. The year one.
[00:26:13] Unknown:
We call it sunset. I know. We call it the year of the baby.
[00:26:31] Unknown:
The new life began around the simple problems of myself, and the babies. The day came when the sun reversed its path. I took my hammer and a chisel. Emma and I had found his toe a smooth rocket where it once been a small perfect target. In the rock, I carved the figure one. The new beginning, I said to them, the reverse of man. In the year two, the last ten, San Francisco was overrun with them. They're broken into most of the grocery stores, torn open the cartons, gorged themselves, and gave birth to more rats. They multiplied by the hundreds and then the thousands. Rats, the carriers of deadly bubonic plague.
Get me that kitchen chair. Hurry now, buddy. I'll hold chair against the opening. I'll make it later. I'll hold the chair against the opening. I'll make it later. I rushed into the bedroom, taking my hammer with me. There were two of them hung on the track. I stationed myself at the chest. One came But that was just two of them. Outside, I could hear hundreds squealing, the tiny feet scratching at the walls. How long would it be before they destroyed us? Man was born now. This was the age of the last. You have just heard part one of Earth Abides by George Stewart, specially adapted for escape by David Ellis.
Next week, escape will bring you the second half of Earth Abides, truly one of the most gripping and terrifying novels of recent years. Truly one of the most gripping and terrifying novels of recent years.
Life is romantic adventure. Wanna get away from it all? We offer you Today, escape brings you one of the most unusual and terrifying stories of recent years. It is a story of such scope that the producers of escape in order to dramatize its full impact will present in two episodes. So now with the performance of John Boehner as Isherwood Williams, we bring you part one of George Stewart's powerful novel, Earth's If a killing type of virus strain should suddenly arrive by mutation, it could, because of the rapid transportation in which we indulge nowadays, be carried to the far corners of the earth and cause the death of millions of people.
If you should awake some morning, tomorrow morning, let's say, if you should wake to a man dead world where virtually all of human life had been dissolved from the face of the earth, leaving behind only buildings, bridges, machines, If you should awake to such a world tomorrow morning, what would you do? Where would you go? My name is Isherwood Williams. I'm a student of ecology. I was in Northern California wilderness gathering specimens of rock, plants, and animal life. I was alone and had been for a month. Running up to a sharp ledge one day, but the lover suction come.
Then I lay down in my cup. I felt sick. Sick because of the poison. Sick because I was alone. Weak. I was awakened by the door. Harry? Harry, the kids. You're gonna go live I think. Oh, I'm glad you came. I'm fixed. On. Let's get out of here. I'm sick. Come on. Why? Why why did they leave me when they knew I was sick? What were they afraid of? I tried to stand. My knees were like sponge rubber. But finally, I was able to stumble to my chest of drawers. And I saw the hammer, my rock hammer, resting on the top of the chest. And it suddenly became the most important thing in the world to me.
If I can lift this hammer, I told myself, I will live. I wrapped my fingers at the handle. And I lifted it slowly. And let it down. I breathed a sigh of relief. I would live. I would live. In the morning, I felt better. I got up, packed the car. In every town, Hudsonville, about 10 miles to the south. They take care of me in Hudsonville. Consider, if you will, the case of the that once inhabited Christmas Island, a small bit of tropical treasure some 200 miles south of Java. In 2200, a new disease rang up. The rats grew universally susceptible and soon were dying by the power.
In spite of great numbers, in spite of an abundant supply of food, in spite of a rapid breeding rate, The species is now extinct. Hudsonville. The familiar houses, doors, taverns, but no one in the streets. A hen scratched plaid unit dust. A lonely dog was howling somewhere. I got out of the car and walked into the left hand. The place was empty. Hey. Is anybody here? Who? Hey. Silent. Deathly silent. On the counter, I saw a newspaper. Are now concentrated at the Barclays Center. Keep tuned to your radio. Radio us. The radio in my car. I turned the dial to the most powerful station in the vicinity.
In static. In the static. Desperately, I twisted it from one end of the van to the other, playing for a human voice, bar of music, anything. Silence. Silence and death. I've been back in the scene. I've got that wait for a minute for a while. Look at the paper again. The last On the way, I helped myself to a tank full of gas at the station. Oddly enough, the pumps were still working. Electricity still flows when the generators and the lights still glazed. I wondered how I had survived. That's the snake venom that contracted the virus. Perhaps the between rude and the super dead.
But somewhere, someone else was alive. And then at the cabin door, there must be others, but where? I've had some cows in the pasture. Smile to myself at the irony. The world belonged once again to the animals. Ecological observation. Pedigree means nothing now. The prize, which is life itself, will go to the keenest brain, the strongest limb, the strongest jaw. Man, they need nothing from man. I passed four or five cars in the highway abandoned. The part of the long I spotted another car, and there was a man inside. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. I said wake up. Hey. Hello. Come on. I don't leave you alone. Now you just leave me alone. I said wake up. Hey.
What's your name? Your name. Your name. Just a second. Come on. Come on. Don't go back to sleep. What's your name? Bravo. That was my name. 58 bottles. Yellow telephone directly. I'm the only one left. The dirtiest gunk of the lot. What am I doing alive? San Francisco. City of San Francisco. And make it follow through concrete with a dense piece of streets. It's ghosts of newspapers flowing across alleys. Across the Bay Bridge, stretched over the plank walk, a single car coupe, parked in an emergency recess with a toll for better now. The Bay Bridge, a final monument to the greatness I'll come into a chair and cry.
Observation. The desert and the wilderness began a long time ago. Men came only in the latter centuries. They captured the springs and wore fake trails with the mesquite bushes. They laid rails, spun wire, paved long straight roads. After a while, men were gone, leaving their small words behind them. In a thousand years, years, at a conservative estimate, man will be a forgotten strong in the jungle. Where would I go? I have no idea. I only knew I had to keep going. Change of grace was my only comfort now. The only way I had was convincing myself that there was still life in the world.
66 to the giant Southwest. The towns, the empty dead towns, the dust blown silent towns passed me by. One that's another. Demon, Flagstaff, And, also, the sprinklers were still going in the front. And stop. In Fairfield, Arkansas, I hit me in the best battle courts of the most luxurious hotel. I slept and ate from the leavings of 150,000,000 people. All the wealth of America has been bequeathed to me. All its wealth and its death. Three days later, I pulled up the Pulaski Skyway, crossed George Washington Bridge, came to Manhattan, landed, low decaying corpse with the fountain, the stable mink in the windows.
The silly traffic lights changing color at naked intersections. Manhattan, a soulless and dead. That's stopped between its rivers. The city will remain for a long time. Salt and bricks, concrete and asphalt, glass, hand deal gently with them. A window pane loosens, vibrate, break, and adjust your window. Lightning strike, loosen the tiles of a corner. The shade trees on the avenue die in their shallow. Pockets. That's why from the 50 Ninth Floor. If he dies slowly. In the afternoon, I saw smoke from the chimney in the Bronx. I drove to the house, No, Carson.
How do you do? Come on in. You're in time for such a Oh, thanks. I just need to this is, this is Carson. How are you? Where's Monty for Brown? Thanks. Where are you from? California. Where Hello, Rochester. We're just finishing a hand in hand. See, look here. Isn't that a beauty? The well, the television set. Yes. Yeah. It's beautiful. It's a combination radio television set radio player. I always wanted a set like that. Yeah. Put something on you. Yeah. I always wanted a set like that. Jen,
[00:17:51] Unknown:
there you are. I owe you $10,000.
[00:17:54] Unknown:
Give it to me tomorrow. There's a best of window at the Chase National. All the money you want. I carry 50,000 with me all the time just to, you know, to save time. Of course you can't buy anything with it now, but it was a nice car you alone. How about some salami? No. Thanks. I just ate. Oh, yeah. Say, you you like to ask them? I'm not much a card. Oh, class I could teach you. Simple life, love me, but a little different. What I was wondering was why don't you stay here? I got everything you'd want right here in The Bronx. You get close. The lady breaks the window at IJ Fox. You should see some of the diamonds I got. And this is Carson at Tiffany's yesterday. Jeez. Where are you going? I better get started. Well, where? There ain't no place to go. Well, thanks. I wish you could stay with that. Oh, thanks. Goodbye.
How long would they last? Through the winter? There'd be no central heating, even breaking furniture in the fireplace. They were like highly bred spaniels of Diconese who walked the city's streets at the end of their leashes. They would die with the city a season or two later of pneumonia and accidents. And Nico in Oklahoma with his heart to the land. He would survive. No Carson and his new wife? Nah. They were waiting for death at the card table. Two weeks later, I was in San Francisco again. The streets were just as bare as my left. The lights were still on, but now water flowed still from the process.
But San Francisco had a new population, the dogs. They hunted in packs, all three bound together in a common search for food. Danes, Dalmatians, Scotties, toys, all of them. The dogs had taken over the city. I decided to move back into the house because of the familiar things. Late one afternoon, I went out to look around the neighborhood. I thought it was too late. I looked around me, I saw myself in the lounge. I could. They climb to the window bearing their things, their red wings wet with hunger. But I would say Then the night.
And that night, the lights went out. The lights. The lights. The lights. What happened to the lights? I looked out over the city. It was black. Black as death. The age of electricity was over. Finished. And there were candles. Mom kept them for ceremonial occasions in the display, and I found myself hoarding matches and flashlight candles traveling among the corners. It was only night, day. Time had lost its meaning. And I had food and clothing. And then I had victory, the Bible. And I read the bible.
[00:21:39] Unknown:
Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth because I love this better than wine.
[00:21:49] Unknown:
There was a faint of unmistakable light burning that night a mile away in Marlboro. I got into the car and pulled to the light. I parked the car. I reached for my hammer. In the window, a shadow moved. As I approached the door, a flashlight popped me in its lair. I stopped. Dead still. I waited for someone to say, put your hands up. Who are you? There was a breath of perfume.
[00:22:18] Unknown:
That's a nice car.
[00:22:21] Unknown:
I can pick up a better one in any street corner. Come on in. Thanks. How about some coffee? Sounds good.
[00:22:37] Unknown:
I've come in good and fine before this.
[00:22:40] Unknown:
And this all about tonight, I decided to investigate.
[00:22:44] Unknown:
I saw your life last time. You live down on San Lorenzo Drive. Why didn't you come in?
[00:22:51] Unknown:
Woman's calm.
[00:22:54] Unknown:
Man's supposed to come after the woman.
[00:22:57] Unknown:
That was before. And no rules now.
[00:23:01] Unknown:
What was their habits?
[00:23:03] Unknown:
What's your breath? Yeah. Black's fine. Alright.
[00:23:08] Unknown:
I don't want you to simply the first one I've missed. There were five or six of them. They saw the light and it came in. They had coffee and I took them on.
[00:23:19] Unknown:
What about me? I don't know you. I'm clean, well educated, healthy, young. Is it a good thing? I dislike turnips, candies, stupid people. What's your name? You laugh? Oh my god. What's your name? Isherwood, my mother's maiden name. Everybody calls me Ish.
[00:23:42] Unknown:
Oh my, Emma. And then Ish.
[00:23:46] Unknown:
Nobody's gonna write your love song for that company No. I'm not imagine they will. I like you. Coffee, you better know now. Emma, Emma, will you come and live with me? I don't know you. But is that a no? That I like you? You like me? If we're both alone. Emma? Emma.
[00:24:20] Unknown:
Emma. Ceremony. I need a bible.
[00:24:24] Unknown:
Bible?
[00:24:26] Unknown:
Yeah. I'm a Magdalene. I've never used it. I just had it.
[00:24:35] Unknown:
Your hand. Now we shall be together always. Emma was warm and understanding. Good woman a healthy woman. Soon there was a baby to be born. I have read some books, but I couldn't read enough. I stood by her during a night and tried to help me. When the morning came, we had a son, the first born since the great disaster. Then there was a matter of time. We won't need to know the exact hours. No. That's true. The clock has stopped, but what's the difference? We eat when we're hungry and we're tired and go to bed. It's a month and a year.
[00:25:30] Unknown:
It's important to know when you're in.
[00:25:32] Unknown:
That's what I've been doing out on the porch.
[00:25:34] Unknown:
What is that thing out there? It's a transit.
[00:25:37] Unknown:
Yeah. I set it towards the sun and when the sun reaches the winter solstice, I know that to be the shortest day of the year. And that will be our New Year. New Year's Day isn't the shortest day of the year? December twenty first is. And we'll make that our New Year. Anne's always been trying to get close to that date for the New Year. Calendar makers always went off. How long will it be? Two days.
[00:26:00] Unknown:
And then it'll be nineteen
[00:26:02] Unknown:
what? Oh, no. Under the old calendar. This will be our year one. The year one.
[00:26:13] Unknown:
We call it sunset. I know. We call it the year of the baby.
[00:26:31] Unknown:
The new life began around the simple problems of myself, and the babies. The day came when the sun reversed its path. I took my hammer and a chisel. Emma and I had found his toe a smooth rocket where it once been a small perfect target. In the rock, I carved the figure one. The new beginning, I said to them, the reverse of man. In the year two, the last ten, San Francisco was overrun with them. They're broken into most of the grocery stores, torn open the cartons, gorged themselves, and gave birth to more rats. They multiplied by the hundreds and then the thousands. Rats, the carriers of deadly bubonic plague.
Get me that kitchen chair. Hurry now, buddy. I'll hold chair against the opening. I'll make it later. I'll hold the chair against the opening. I'll make it later. I rushed into the bedroom, taking my hammer with me. There were two of them hung on the track. I stationed myself at the chest. One came But that was just two of them. Outside, I could hear hundreds squealing, the tiny feet scratching at the walls. How long would it be before they destroyed us? Man was born now. This was the age of the last. You have just heard part one of Earth Abides by George Stewart, specially adapted for escape by David Ellis.
Next week, escape will bring you the second half of Earth Abides, truly one of the most gripping and terrifying novels of recent years. Truly one of the most gripping and terrifying novels of recent years.
