The great stain of blood on Taylor’s back spread into a river of red. Through blood-curtained eyes, Taylor saw the cathedral spin all about him, whirling, coruscating, like a kaleidoscope. His senses fused and he died, slamming down over the bejeweled panel board.

He never saw the End.

The dead weight of his big body pressed down on the ruby button on the panel. The one that had never been touched before.

General Ursus stared at the Bomb. The glow evanesced over a period of seconds. General Ursus’ mouth opened and his fangs showed in a tremendous, terrified scream.

Dr. Zaius had no time to think about anything else. Not in this world or any other.

The ape militia scattered about the cathedral, three hundred in all, stupid, belligerent, unthinking, did not even think of running. Not that running would have helped.

The great cathedral was visible for only one second more.

Taylor’s dead body blackened to a silhouette, while above and behind him the Bomb whitened to an incandescence more blinding than the sun which Taylor would never see again.

And then the universal fire began . . .

. . . and all that was left was melting and burning.

And small, blackened wisps.

An electronic crackling sputtered in Outer Space.

15.

ARMAGEDDON

Listen, if you have the ears to hear.

The Wind is speaking again.

“. . . the Universe, at present, contains billions upon billions of spiral galaxies. In one of them, one-third from the edge, is a medium-sized star . . .”

Only a small, blackened wisp. If you have the eyes to see it. Or the heart to care.

“. . . and one of its satellites, a green and insignificant planet . . .”

Blank, white, glaring.

“. . . is now dead.”

Silence.

There is nothing more. There is nothing left.

It is as it was in the Beginning.

Wasteland.