He thought about that visionary lady. To die, he thought, never knowing the fierce joy and attendant comfort of a loved one's embrace. To sink into t… - Richard Matheson

I’m writing this note, though, because I want to save you if I can. When I was first given the job of spying on you, I had no feelings about your life. Because I did have a husband, Robert. You killed him. But now it’s different. I know now that you were just as much forced into your situation as we were forced into ours. We are infected. But you already know that. What you don’t understand yet is that we’re going to stay alive. We’ve found a way to do that and we’re going to set up society again slowly but surely. We’re going to do away with all those wretched creatures whom death has cheated. And, even though I pray otherwise, we may decide to kill you and those like you.

What did it matter what he did? Life would be equally purposeless no matter what his decision was.

He was out hunting for Cortman. It had become a relaxing hobby, hunting for Cortman; one of the few diversions left to him.