Glow Worm by Harlan Ellison - He was the last man on Earth, all right. But—was he still a man?
When the sun sank behind the blasted horizon, its glare blotted out by the twisted wreckage rising obscenely against the hills, Seligman continued to glow.
He shone with a steady off-green aura that surrounded his body, radiated from the tips of his hair, crawled from his skin, and lit his way in the darkest night. It had been with him for two years now.
Though Seligman had never been a melodramatic man, he had more than once rolled the phrase through his mind, letting it fall from his lips: "I'm a freak."
Which was not entirely true. There was no longer anyone he might have termed "normal" for his comparison. Not only were there no more men, there was no more life of any kind. The silence was broken only by the searching wind, picking its way cautiously between the slow-rusting girders of a dead past.
Even as he said, "Freak!" his mind washed the word with two waves, almost as one: vindictiveness and a resignation inextricably bound in self-pity, hopelessness and hatred.
"They were at fault!" he screamed at the tortured piles of masonry in his path.
Across the viewer of his mind, thoughts twisted nimbly, knowing the route, having traversed it often before.
Man had reached for the stars, finding them within his reach were he willing to give up his ancestral home.
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