Blakey slumped on a folding chair with his lumpy bald head in his hands. "One good thing about the end of the world," he said. "When we go down in history as incompetent moron failures, at least there won't be much history left."
Strayhorn sat bolt upright, staring at the alien masses as they trooped past. "We'd better be on our way." His voice was cold and flat. "We're done here."
Dinah sat beside him and watched his face. He looked stern and impassive, unmoved...but she had a feeling that a lot more was going on inside.
He had failed to save the human race. How could that not tear him apart? How could that not destroy him?
"Well," said Mahalia. "How about a little clean-up music?" With a flick of her wrist, she popped a digital music player from the hip pocket of her red ju
