Last Woman 2

by Jacqueline Druga

  EIGHTEEN - DODGE

  Upon first awakening, or so I thought it was my first wakening, my last recollection was pulling into the camp ground. I had lost everything after that moment. I didn't know why I had some tube in my arm, why my head pounded worse than any hangover and why I couldn't move an inch without excruciating pain radiating up my side.

  It was dark, Bud slept in a chair near me, an old newspaper spread across his lap.

  Again, he looked dead.

  Before I could call out, or even register what was going on, I passed out again. The sound of the boys laughing and running summoned me to and I jolted awake with a large 'crash' of thunder.

  My mistake was jolting to a sitting position.

  Unlike me, I grunted out a scream in pain, which of course scared the hell out of Darie and he screamed as well.

  "Dodge is a zombie. Dodge is a zombie." His voice trailed as he ran away.

  "Dodge, ain't no zombie," Bud corrected and walked into my focus. "Dumb move sitting up like that. Do you know my name?"

  "It's Bud." I said with some sarcasm.

  "Know who the president was?"

  "Keene."

  "Where are you?'

  "Ohio, some camp site."

  "Good. Good." Bud winked.

  "Dodge!" George flew into the room towards me, stopping just as he reached for me. "You're ok?"

  "Yeah."

  "What's my name?"

  "George."

  "Dodge, you're normal." He hugged me. Even his frail arms hurt my body, but that was okay.

  Bud walked over, removing George from me, then placed pillows behind my back so I could sit up comfortable and yet, relaxed.

  "Need some water?" Bud asked. "Anything?"

  "Water and an aspirin."

  "We have better stuff for ya."

  I didn't understand that and I guess my facial expression conveyed as much.

  "What's the last you remember?" Bud asked.

  I paused to think. At first, again, when I opened my eyes the night before, I could only recall pulling into the camp site. Everything was a fog, hard to remember at all.

  "Think. Do you remember those two men on the highway?"

  "Yeah, I ..." Suddenly a vision of Hank, holding Faye flashed in my mind. I blinked, then I saw Powell. Feelings of rage engulfed me, I remembered swinging, throwing one of them, fighting and then ... nothing. "Oh my God, Faye." Again, I tried to get up. The pain was too much and Bud stopped me.

  He told George to take Darie into the back and play a game. George obliged, then Bud sat on the coffee table, hands folded.

  "Tell me she's okay." I said.

  "Faye is fine. Thanks to you. Unfortunately you were jumped by two more men. They hit you pretty hard then clobbered you with a bat. Two busted ribs, your arm is broke and you have a pretty bad head injury. Your whole body has to be aching."

  "How did it end?" I questioned.

  "I shot them. But Faye is fine, unscathed. Tyler on the other hand, not so much."

  "Oh my God, my son."

  "He's not dead." Bud held up his hands. "They gutted him pretty good with a knife."

  "Where is he?"

  "Not here. With Faye."

  At that point I was swimming in confusion. "Where are they?"

  "Army came and took them. Faye went because they needed to get Tyler help. He was pretty bad. They flew them out."

  I felt an ache in my chest, totally defeated. I'd failed.

  "It had to be done," Bud said. "They weren't meaning Faye any harm and when you're well, we'll head down there. They gave me directions."

  "How do you know? How do you know they didn't mean her harm or they weren't just gonna kill my kid."

  "'Cause in my years on this earth, Dodge, I become a pretty good judge of character. That major that headed the team? Good fella. Two young medics that worked on you and Tyler. All good intentions. If they hadn't arrived when they did, Tyler would have died."

  "When did they leave?"

  "Two days ago."

  "Two days? I've been out two days!"

  "Not really." Bud replied. "You got up a few times."

  "I don't remember."

  "I figured you wouldn't. You were out of it, talking crazy stuff. One time when I asked you what my name was, you said it was Clint Eastwood. At first I thought you were joking because I shot those men, but then you said you were in Kentucky the day after prom and the President was Reagan. Those two time frames don't even match up."

  I brought my hand to my head, it throbbed in pain.

  "The army left pain medication if you want it."

  "Yeah, Maybe. I just want to get up and go."

  "Well, you aren't doing that. Not today at least. When I know you are getting better and thinking clearly...and can move with less pain, then we'll hit the road."

  "I'm thinking clearly," I said.

  "Right now. My wife fractured her skull when she was sixty five, trying to ride one of those electric scooters. Wasn't right in the head for two weeks. Some days she was lucid, others she was playing bingo with the cereal box. Let's just be sure, I don't need to be chasing aliens when we're on the road."

  "Aliens?"

  "Yeah, that was one story you gave."

  Heavily I breathed out and sat back. "I feel like I failed her. How did I let this happen?"

  "You didn't let this happen. You did all that you could. None of us thought our camp would be attacked. By God's grace we're all alive. You get well and strong and we hit the road. Those boys need you and so does Faye." Bud stood. "I'll go get that pain medication and you rest up. I'll tell George not to read to you."

  "Why would you do that? He's allowed to read to me. I love that."

  "I know you do, but not now. Please. Every time he read you a story, you opened your eyes and believed you lived that reality. Although that could be funny if he read Brokeback Mountain to you."

  Bud chuckled at his own joke as he walked away. I just groaned again, rested back and closed my eyes. Despite what Bud said, I still felt heavily defeated. Defeated and in pain. I would do my best to get my strength up enough to leave. Because I didn't want waste any more time getting to my son and Faye.

  Bud may have trusted those men, but me, I didn't. I feared the worse in what they could possibly do to my son and even worse to Faye.

  NINETEEN - FAYE

  Tyler took a turn for the worst on that first morning, exactly twenty four hours after the attack. He developed a fever and his belly began to swell again. I woke up that morning having slept on the couch, the hot shower I took the night before plummeted me into a wall of exhaustion. I didn't sleep long and knew the second I opened my eyes, something was wrong.

  I dressed and made coffee and told the soldier outside my door I wanted to go to the hospital to see Tyler.

  The soldier walked me to the hospital and notified James I was there. I didn't see him at all that morning. For some reason I was under the impression he was my personal guard. But that wasn't the case. He was a busy man; I was one mission accomplished and one of the soldiers told me he was prepping teams to go out following rumors of more surviving women. They were only rumors and no one really saw one.

  I was the only woman they knew for sure existed.

  Tyler was still sleeping when I arrived, but I noticed his color was off. Even more so than the day before when he was knifed. That was when the doctor came in and told me about the infection. He explained that the knife was probably full of bacteria. They loaded him with antibiotics, but by late afternoon they had to go back in and find not only the 'bleeder', but remove and clear some of the infection.

  A tube extended out of his abdomen and the need for a medically induced coma was greater. I didn't leave his side. Dodge wouldn't want his son alone and I didn't want Tyler to be alone either.

  By the following morning his fever had dropped and by dinner time, he was declared out of the woods and I was instructed to go get some rest. What surprised me was the fact that I sti
ll hadn't met Dr. Lewis. Barry Chatham had stopped in, merely to check on Tyler and me. He told me his concern was for me to be in a controlled and protected environment and that when things calmed down he would speak to me about what they needed.

  I accepted that and decided to go back to my fenced in bungalow. They promised they would get me if needed.

  No one really spoke to me, I just stayed in that room. When I did walk outside, it seemed as if all activity stopped. The men and boys just started at me.

  Despite my new surroundings I still expected to see Dodge at any moment. Farmer told me he was probably just coming to up north and since he was traveling with Bud and the boys to give them a good week to get to me, maybe even ten days.

  They were on my mind constantly. It was almost four months exactly since I met Dodge and I spent every single day with him and the boys, along with Bud. Now I was pushing the third night without them and I was lost. I missed my nighttime hugs from Darie. He'd curl up on my lap until he was just about to go to sleep and then after catching himself, he'd race to Dodge to put him to bed. I missed listening to George impressively read to Dodge. He did that every night, whatever he could find, he'd read. Dodge would listen and comment and George even quizzed him to make sure he was paying attention. Dodge always did.

  Life at my house with them and Bud was like a prepping meets camping trip. It was easy, relaxed and even though we lived in colonial style living, it had a sense of normalcy.

  Even with my air conditioning, hot water and modern conveniences that were lost for 99% of the world, I wanted to go back to the simplicity and to the people that had become no less than a family to me.

  After a shower, I ate some sort of stew from a can, grabbed the bottle and glass and decided it was such a warm night I'd sit on the balcony. There were two chairs out there, the lounge kind. A table between them. I lit the candle that was there and enjoyed my drink.

  It gave me a sense of comfort because it was part of my nightly routine. Every night, no matter what, after the boys were down Dodge and I sat on my deck. It was our thing. There was only one night that we didn't do so and that was when Darie got a stomach bug from something he ate. In that instance, Dodge and I took turns with Darie as he hovered over a bucket.

  It was hard to believe that seven months had passed since my family had died. I had wanted to die. Never would I have believed that it would take a dead world to bring me back to life.

  Not a day went by that I didn't think of my husband, my daughter and son. But no longer did I think of them with an abundance of sadness, I started to reach the point where I thought of them and remembered the fun times. The happiness they gave me.

  In the midst of my thoughts, I heard the sliding door from the next balcony. I shared a balcony with the apartment next door, and only a railing separated us.

  I glanced over to see James; he held a glass and bottle as he stepped out.

  He looked surprised to see me. "I'm sorry," he said. "If you want privacy out here, I can go back in."

  "No, please. That's fine. Enjoy your drink."

  He nodded and sat down on a chair. "I hear Tyler is doing better."

  "Yes, they expect to see him really improve over the next couple days."

  "How are you doing?"

  I shrugged. "Worried about Tyler, can't stop thinking about Darie and George. Bud, too. And Dodge, I am so worried about him."

  "He's a tough guy," James said. "He'll be fine. I have a feeling."

  "Thank you for that. I haven't seen you in a couple days. One of your soldier guys was telling me you were getting search parties ready. Are you going back out?"

  James shook his head. "Not this time. I promised you that you would be fine. I don't want to be too far away."

  "I appreciate that. So I take it you weren't too far away these past couple days."

  "Fifteen miles. Division Five camp. We had some issues and problems."

  "What kind?" I asked, then waved my hand. "I'm sorry none of my business."

  "No, that's fine. Just trouble there. Division Five camp houses our rough survivors."

  "You have them all together in one camp? Is that smart?" I questioned. "I mean, putting all the bad together is like a prison. You can only breed more bad."

  "I agree. But it's not my call. I am only following orders."

  "From who?"

  "Excuse me?" he asked.

  "Who gives the orders? Chatham? Lewis."

  "In anything medical they do. About you they do, sort of, but they aren't in charge of COM Camp."

  "Who is?"

  "The president and a skeleton staff."

  Hearing him say that took me by surprise. "The president is alive? How did he survive the virus?"

  "He's the president. First sign of problems, they locked him in an air tight room. Then the vaccine was found and he was one of the first to get it. But his family got sick right away, you know that though."

  "Nope." I shook my head. "I caught the beginning of the outbreak, but I missed the grand finale." I downed the rest of my drink and freshened my glass, looking at it as I spoke. "All those bottles you found at my house, kind of contributed to it. I was in an alcoholic coma when the world went to shit. Drank myself into oblivion. I didn't want to feel, I wanted to be numb."

  "I'm sorry. Was it the outbreak? You said you caught the beginning of it. Did you lose family?"

  "Not to the virus. I uh ... three months before everyone died, everyone I loved was killed in a car accident." Instinctively drawn by that flash of memory, I downed that drink, then I looked over at the airy 'huff' of almost laughter that came from James. I was insulted. "Was that funny?"

  "Nope." He took a big gulp of his drink and gasped. "Familiar." With a grunt he reached for his own bottle. "Five months before everything ended, I had just finished my last day on my tour overseas. I was on my way back and the plan was to meet my family on vacation. Unfortunately, their plane had trouble. Flight 247 outside of Orlando, it crashed."

  I gasped. "Oh my God, I am so sorry. I remember that crash."

  "Me too. I lost my wife, my three kids, my mother, sister and niece. Everyone. Gone."

  "James, I ... I am so sorry. I know how you feel."

  "Yeah, you do. Anyhow, like you ..." He lifted his glass. "I drank a lot. Then the virus started and I went on detail. Threw myself into my work. Worked exodus checkpoints, then aid stations until I got sick."

  "You ... you got the virus, too?" I said. "I caught the virus. Our stories are so similar, please don't tell me you woke up in a pile of bodies."

  Quickly he looked at me. "Did you?"

  "Yeah, in a football stadium. I woke to a dead world. I thought I was the last woman on earth."

  "You are."

  "So far," I said. "But I also thought I was the only living person."

  "I had the same thoughts. I woke up in an Army tent outside a body depositary. Everyone dead. No one around. And here, while I suffered with the illness, I thought my suffering was over."

  I turned some on my chair to face him. "How did you do it? How did you not want to die? I woke up and spent every second of my life wanting to die. What got you passed that point."

  "Not sure that I am."

  "You still want to die?"

  "I don't know." He gave a half shrug. "I'm not sure if I want to die, I just haven't had anything that made me want to go on. You know? I may have survived, but....unfortunately ..." He said. "I still don't feel alive."

  TWENTY - DODGE

  The first time I really moved wasn't easy, but I was tired of pissing in a cup. My balance was a bit off and I should have waited for some help, but I wanted to get strong. To me lying around wasn't doing that. My body hurt with every step, I could only imagine how bad it would hurt without those pills.

  I needed some air and felt such a sense of emptiness. My son and Faye they were gone. Out there in the world somewhere. I was worried sick about them, and it wouldn't help me getting back to sleep. Then again, I had sle
pt for a couple days.

  It was a cooler night, I probably should have had a jacket but I wasn't sure how I'd put it on. Any real twist of my body was agonizing. I was sitting on the front porch for about ten minutes when I heard the squeak of the screen door, followed by an exhale.

  His breathing was his announcement of presence, and then George sat down next to me.

  "Hey, Buddy," I said. "Can't sleep?"

  "I tried. I heard you making noise and grunting."

  "Sorry."

  "That's ok. What are you doing? Just staring out?"

  "Yep."

  "Can I sit out here with you?" He asked.

  "Absolutely. I'd like that."

  George inhaled and exhaled again. Almost restlessly. "I missed reading to you tonight."

  "You should have."

  "Bud said I'm not allowed until I find some story called Broke Back, something."

  "Don't listen to Bud. You can read me anything."

  "Cool." Another breath, another exhale. "You aren't looking for the giant squirrels are you?"

  I looked quickly at him. "What are you talking about?"

  "When you woke up the one time you were yelling about giant squirrels. We had to pretend to kill them to shut you up."

  "Oh my God," I ran my hand over my head.

  "That's okay, you got hit on the head pretty bad."

  "I figured."

  "With a bat," George said.

  "Better than a crowbar."

  "I saved it so you can see. It still has your blood on it."

  I cocked an eye brow and looked at him. "You saved it?"

  "Yeah, it's pretty cool. I'll show you."

  "Tomorrow. Okay?"

  "Okay." He shrugged. "Are you sitting here worried about Tyler and Faye?"

  "Yeah, I am."

  "They're okay, you know," George said. "The Army guys were nice. They wanted to help. Say, Dodge, you don't think they'll be so nice to her that she won't want to come back, do you?"

  I didn't even need to think about that question. I answered, "Nah, she likes you guys too much."

  "She likes you too, Dodge. Even though she yells at us guys. Probably because she doesn't like boys. I miss her. I miss Tyler. Do you miss them?"