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For he was a man and he was alone and these things had no importance to him. ***
He smiled down at the dog, his throat moving. “You’ll be all better soon,” he whispered. “Real soon.”
Robert Neville looked out over the new people of the earth. He knew he did not belong to them; he knew that, like the vampires, he was anathema and black terror to be destroyed. And, abruptly, the concept came, amusing to him even in his pain.
