The Last Woman (All That Remains #1)

by S. M. Shade

  The Last Woman

  All That Remains: Book One

  by

  S. M. Shade

  The Last Woman © 2014 S.M. Shade

  All Rights Reserved. This book may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed form without permission from the author. All characters and events portrayed are fictitious. Any similarities to actual persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Prologue

  I’m hallucinating. I must be. The stress has finally shoved me over the edge. I’m not seeing this. He can’t be real. I close my eyes and count to three. It doesn’t help.

  A man really is standing in front of me. His shock and incredulity mirror my own. Mine, however, is multiplied by the fact that I recognize him. He’s famous. Well, he was before everything went to hell.

  I take a deep breath and find my voice. “Uh...um...hi.”

  He blinks and continues to stare at me. I understand the disbelief he feels, but it’s disconcerting.

  “Mom?” My son steps up behind me, his hand clamping onto my arm hard enough to leave bruises. “Who is this?” he whispers. Before I can answer, the man begins to yell.

  “Jayla! Where are you?” he shouts, backing away from us.

  A young girl rounds the corner and grabs his hand. Her eyes widen as she sees us all standing there, frozen. “Airen?” she whispers.

  “It’s okay.” He squeezes her hand, still staring at me.

  Despite the strange and alarming situation, I’m stunned by his beauty.

  “I’m sorry. You just surprised me. You’re the first people we’ve seen in a long time,” he explains.

  “Me too…I mean…same here,” I stumble. Great, the first person I’ve seen in three months, and I’m doing my Rain Man impression. I take another deep breath and try again. “My name is Abby, and this is my son, Carson.”

  “I’m Airen, and this is Jayla. Is anyone else here?” His eyes dart from side to side.

  “No, it’s been just the two of us since, well...”

  “The plague,” Jayla says.

  “We’re just looking for some supplies,” Airen explains.

  “Well, you came to a good place. Most of the town was evacuated early, so the stores are still well stocked.” If you can stand the smell, that is. The grocery side of the store is the worst, but the smell of rotten meat and vegetables still permeates the entire place. “Where are you from?”

  “I’m from New Orleans, and Jayla is from Atlanta. We’ve been traveling for a few months, looking for a good place to stay for the winter. Where are you from?”

  “Originally we’re from Indianapolis, but we moved here about five years ago. This is a good place to live. We’re close to the lakes, and the winters aren’t too harsh. It rarely snows.”

  “Have you seen any other people?” Jayla asks.

  “No, have you?” Carson questions.

  Jayla shakes her head.

  “Well, we have a cooler full of sandwiches and drinks in the truck.” I hesitate, suddenly shy about my next question. “If you haven’t eaten, would you like to join us for lunch? There’s a picnic table next to the side entrance.” I glance up at them uncertainly. “I’m sure you have as many questions as we do.”

  He smiles, and though my eyesight is hindered by the gloom of the blacked out department store, the sight still takes my breath away.

  “Sounds good. We’ll meet you outside.”

  While Carson and I unload the truck and set the table, my mind is spinning. People! Actual real live walking, talking people!

  “Mom, wasn’t that guy on television? I could swear that’s him. Wasn’t he on one of your crime shows?” Carson asks.

  Frankly, I’m surprised Carson recognized him. Airen starred in the show Undercovers—not exactly a crime show—where he played the part of a male prostitute.

  “I don’t know, honey. If it is him, he may not want to talk about it, so please don’t question him. Let him volunteer the information.”

  “Sure. Do you think they will stay in town? I hope they do. They seem nice.”

  I sigh. He’s as desperate for company as I am. Carson has been through so much, and I’m extremely proud of how he’s coping, but he needs a friend. What twelve year old boy wants to be stuck with his mother twenty-four seven?

  “We’ll just have to see how it goes. Don’t get your hopes up.”

  “I thought we might be the last two people in the world.”

  “Never think it.” I hug him. “We survived, and now we know two others have also. There will be more people. We just have to find each other.”

  Airen and Jayla arrive with carts loaded down with clothing, water, and food. As we sit down to eat, the questions fly back and forth. We’re so thrilled to talk to someone we keep interrupting each other.

  I’m so happy for Carson. He really needed a child his own age for company. Jayla is twelve years old, thin and petite with dark skin and hair. Her deep brown eyes shine with intelligence. Carson is smitten instantly.

  While I’m half-listening to the kids’ conversation, I’m trying not to outright ogle Airen Holder. It was fortunate we first met in the dark. If I had seen him properly, I’d still be trying to talk. He is beyond gorgeous. Television didn’t do him justice. His black as night hair is thick and wild, matching onyx eyes that seem to shine from within. He’s quiet, brooding even, but when he smiles it’s enough to stop my heart. He has a perfect jaw line, high cheekbones, and a flawless complexion. The shorts and tank top he’s wearing show off a Greek God’s physique.

  “So.” Airen turns those mesmerizing eyes to meet mine. “What did you do, you know, before?” he asks.

  “I was a librarian.”

  “You must like to read.”

  “Yeah,” I mumble, showing what months of limited human interaction has done to my stellar social skills. I know I should return the question, but I really don’t want to play dumb. I know how he made a living before.

  Before. Such a small word that now contains lifetimes. Everything we did, everything we were, summed up in two syllables.

  “You were an actor, weren’t you?” I ask.

  “Guilty,” he replies with a smirk. “I didn’t think you recognized me.”

  “I may have watched a few episodes of Undercovers.”

  “Or DVR’ed the whole season.” Carson giggles, and Jayla smiles at him with her hand over her mouth.

  “Guilty.” I shrug. I know I’m blushing as I silently plan Carson’s violent death. “Don’t worry. I won’t pester you for an autograph. I’m not the star struck type.”

  Technically, this is true. I’m not impressed by his fame. It’s those eyes and smile that have me so captivated. I’m trying not to say something stupid and make a fool of myself. I don’t want him to know how much his presence affects me.

  “That’s a shame. I miss signing autographs. I used to model as well. Does that change your mind? ” An arrogant little grin flashes across his face.

  I have to laugh. I’m having lunch with a famous model and actor. It’s so surreal. “Would you like us to show you around town?”

  “That would be great.”

  Abraham

  God’s will has saved me. I’ve been touched
. He has truly blessed me with forgiveness. Two years in this filthy, unholy place. Two years surrounded by the scum of society. The pastor was right. He said if I gave myself to Jesus, I’d be saved.

  They all died. When I hid in the kitchen pantry, they never even looked for me. Oh, I could hear the cries for help. The scum cried out for water, for a doctor, even for their mamas. As if I’d come. If God had wanted them to survive, he would have provided for them as he did for me.

  First, I found two bottles of water that had rolled under the pantry shelf. Next, there were the crackers from the dead receptionist’s purse. Finally, a tear in the fence of the prison yard allowed me to escape. He granted me freedom and his forgiveness so I can spread his word to the poor souls he left behind.

  They will hear.

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Carson, bring in the eggs, please. After breakfast you need to fill the water tank.”

  “Okay. What are we doing today, Mom?”

  “I’m going to do a few loads of laundry.”

  If you think washing clothes without a washer or hot water is an easy task, I urge you to try it. No matter how creative I’ve tried to be, the old fashioned washboard-slash-clothesline method seems to win. “I think Airen wants to take the two of you fishing.”

  Jayla makes a face. “I’ll stay and help you do the wash. I’d rather wash dirty underwear than sit in a boat all day with those two. They think they’re so funny.”

  “I heard that.” Airen grabs Jayla around the neck and plants a kiss on her head. “You know you look forward to my jokes.”

  “Even though mine are so much better,” Carson brags.

  Jayla shakes her head in exasperation. “You’re both equally terrible.”

  Listening to them go back and forth makes me smile. We have become comfortable with one another. I don’t know if the extended period of solitude or the mental trauma we’ve all suffered caused us to bond so quickly.

  Fortunately, Carson and I had chosen a house with extra bedrooms. I’d picked it for its two fireplaces and its proximity to Kentucky Lake.

  We have acres of woods on one side of us with paths leading down to the lake. The rest of the house is surrounded by open fields Airen and Carson have dubbed “the yard”. Since they’re the ones who cut all the grass with riding mowers, I suppose they can call it whatever they like. The view is beautiful in every direction. I love to watch the sun rise over the lake, the water reflecting the soft colors of the sky.

  Carson and I were thrilled when Airen and Jayla accepted our invitation to live with us. We had all been on our own for so long. The conversation I had with Airen in private was uncomfortable and embarrassing, but I knew it was necessary. He’s so gorgeous, and I didn’t want him to think I had ulterior motives. However, recalling it still makes me cringe.

  “Look, Airen, I want you and Jayla to stay. I think things will be better and easier on all of us if we stick together. I just want to assure you, I’d never take advantage of the situation,” I explained.

  He gives me a confused grin. “Take advantage? How?”

  The bastard. He knows what I’m getting at, but he’s going to make me say it. “I’m not hitting on you or trying to be with you or um...anything.” My face becomes redder by the second. “I don’t want you to worry. I want you to know I wouldn’t...do that,” I babble.

  His smile broadens, spreading across his face. Why does he have to be so hot?

  “Do I need to swear to the same?” he asks in an innocent tone.

  I suddenly have the urge to kick him. “I think we can both agree that’s not necessary,” I answer dryly, rolling my eyes. I head back indoors, but not before I see the look on his face. It’s a mixture of surprise and another emotion I can’t seem to place. Pity, perhaps.

  He could’ve saved the acting skills for someone more gullible. I’m not exactly attractive. Oh hell, why sugar coat it? I’m ugly. I’ve been ugly since I was a child and long ago accepted it as a fact of my life. However, I’ve learned some things are better left unsaid. In the past, when I’d told people I was aware of my unfortunate appearance, they tended to think I was fishing for compliments or trying to get them to disagree. We have all known that annoying pretty girl who will announce she’s ugly so others will argue it and call her beautiful. That’s the absolute last thing I wanted. I just wanted to address the big ugly elephant in the room and get it out of the way.

  All that aside, they stayed. Surprisingly, life has become routine if not exactly normal. After months of Carson and me living on our own even the childish bickering is music to my ears.

  “Do I have to go fishing?” Jayla asks.

  “I didn’t intend to hogtie you and drag you through the woods. It’s so beautiful today; I was hoping we’d all spend a little time on the lake. What do you say, Abby? I’ll even bait your hook for you,” Airen offers, flashing his million dollar smile.

  Three pairs of eyes stare at me awaiting an answer.

  “I’ll go if Abby goes,” Jayla says.

  “Fine,” I agree, “but I’m not cleaning the fish this time.”

  * * * *

  Airen pulls a lightweight, flat bottomed boat down to the edge of the lake.

  “Is this the one you’ve been using?” asks Jayla.

  “Mmm hmm.” Airen nods absently.

  “Why don’t you take one with a motor so you don’t have to row?”

  “With these guns?” He flexes his biceps, drawing a snort from Jayla. “Who needs a motor?”

  Airen tosses us each a life jacket and makes sure the straps are tight. We manage to get in the boat and launch it without tipping it over. The first few minutes are hectic and noisy as we get the hooks baited and cast into the water. I’m always paranoid someone will get a hook through their eye. I’m sure we have scared away every fish in the vicinity. We finally get settled and quiet down. The kids each have their iPod’s so it’s pretty peaceful.

  I’m not watching my bobber as I should. I’m in awe of the beauty surrounding me. The leaves have changed, and the distant shore is a mass of color. Bright red-gold and orange fades to more muted shades of yellow with a scattering of brown and dark green patches. The grass along the shore is a brighter green in startling contrast to the dark brown of the soil and sand sloping gently to meet the water where clumps of cattails sway rhythmically.

  I close my eyes and let my other senses take over. The breeze caresses me, tickling the little hairs on the back of my neck, and the sun feels warm on my face and shoulders. The combination is very pleasant. The lake and the forest are alive with sound. Waves lap gently against the boat. Dragonflies hum a few feet above us, backed by the rhythm of a woodpecker, hammering away. It’s lovely, harmonious, and somehow melancholy.

  Breathing deep, I try to absorb the beauty and tranquility in which I’m immersed. I feel something inside me loosen, and my body relaxes. When I open my eyes, Airen is gazing at me with obvious pleasure.

  “Better?” he asks in a low voice.

  “I see why you like to spend time out here.”

  He nods pensively. “Sometimes you just need to let it go.”

  “Let what go?”

  “Everything,” he says simply. “Abby, if you ever need to talk....” His voice trails off.

  I force a smile. “Thanks. Really. I’m just not the talk about my feelings type.”

  He grins at me with a small shake of his head. “I’ve noticed.”

  “Back at you.”

  “Touché, but remember the offer stands.”

  “I’ll remember. I do have one serious question to ask you.”

  “Boxer briefs,” he replies, flashing a charming grin that releases butterflies in my stomach.

  “Ha! I do your laundry, doofus. There’s no mystery there. I’ve been wondering, why don’t you have a southern accent if you grew up in Louisiana?”

  “I took acting classes at Carnegie Mellon University’s School of Drama in New York, and they taught me to break my accent.” His
lips curve with a roguish smile. “It was probably for the best, I mean, it’s an unfair advantage to be this good looking and also have a sexy accent.”

  “You’re possibly the most arrogant person I’ve ever met,” I reply with a chuckle, peeking up at him.

  “Only possibly?”

  “Shut up. You have a bite,” I point out as his bobber dips below the surface.

  A few hours later, Airen and Carson are cleaning the fish while Jayla and I watch.

  “I caught the biggest one,” Carson boasts. Airen just smiles, but Jayla is having none of that.

  “You did not. Airen’s catfish is twice the size.”

  Carson cocks his head and looks at Airen, his cheeks red from the sun. “I don’t know what we’re going to do without an eye doctor,” he says.

  “What are you talking about now?” asks Jayla, her hands planted on her hips.

  “I’m concerned about getting you the glasses you obviously need.”

  “All right. It doesn’t matter whose is bigger,” I lecture. Airen grins and raises his eyebrows at me. “Don’t you start,” I warn, smothering a grin. “You’d better remember who’s going to cook those fish.”

  Carson interrupts. “You mean these big, meaty fish the men caught?”

  Jayla looks around. “I only see one man.”

  “Again, because you need glasses. You’re just mad that you didn’t catch anything.”

  “I did! You know it was too small, and we had to throw it back.”

  “I’m just surprised you could see it,” Carson remarks smugly.

  “Hey! Thing One and Thing Two, that’s enough.” They will go on all day if I don’t intervene.

  Jayla sticks out her tongue at Carson and turns her back to him, but ignoring him doesn’t last for long. Walking back, Carson and Jayla are a few yards ahead of us on the trail.

  “They argue like brother and sister, but look at them,” Airen remarks, watching them fondly.

  Laughing and talking together, Carson pauses for Jayla to pick a few wild flowers growing along the side of the trail. Typical kids. That’s what we see. Happy, carefree kids.