The Last Woman (All That Remains #1)

by S. M. Shade

  After a dinner of deer steaks, canned potatoes, and a couple of pudding cups, we play poker. Some nights it’s five card draw, blackjack, or so help me, checkers. Micah is crazy about checkers. Maybe it’s because I rarely win. We’re getting bored, however, and I’m trying to convince him we should travel around a little. There’s no shortage of empty houses in which to camp. We can’t be the only survivors, and I really want to look for more people. Maybe I can convince him he’ll find a woman.

  CHAPTER THREE

  New Year’s Eve came and went, and we tried to make it fun for the kids. They stayed up until midnight, or what we think is midnight. It’s been nine months since the power went out and our battery operated clocks and watches all show a different time. It’s only a matter of a minute or two, but it’s strange to realize we don’t know the actual time.

  February brings about below freezing temperatures, testing our ability to keep ourselves warm. We run the generators nonstop to power electric heaters scattered throughout the house. The two fireplaces are always lit, and we dress in layers. Blankets drape over the couches and chairs. Everyone is getting cranky as cabin fever sets in. We’ve been closed up together for too long, and we’re starting to get on one another’s nerves.

  “You told me it doesn’t get very cold here in the winter,” Airen gripes. He’s been out siphoning gas and his face and hands are red and chapped.

  “Yeah, well...I’m not a fucking meteorologist,” I snap.

  He shoots me a dirty look and goes to thaw out by the fire. The kids have been at each other’s throats as well. We’re all taking it out on one another. Finally, the arctic air takes a break from trying to freeze us solid, and it warms up just enough to start raining torrentially, which doesn’t help anyone’s mood.

  It’s pouring rain when Jayla and Carson burst through the front door, hollering to bring down the house. They’ve been outside collecting eggs from our chicken coop.

  “Mom! Dad!” their voices overlap in their excitement. My whole body goes cold, and Airen sprints in from his bedroom.

  “What happened?” Airen grabs Jayla by the shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

  “A man, a little boy,” she stumbles, “in the yard.”

  “He’s hurt,” Carson adds. “The boy’s crying.”

  “Stay inside,” Airen orders.

  “Airen!” I exclaim when I see him load the pistol and tuck it in his waistband.

  “It could be a trick. He could be using the kid to lure us out. You don’t know who else might be in the woods, watching us. Stay here.”

  “Like hell! I’m coming with you.”

  He pauses, but must realize there’s no point in arguing with me. “Get the rifle and stay on the step until I see what’s going on.” He points at Carson and Jayla. “Stay in the house!” he barks, his eyes flashing.

  I agree and follow him, my heart beating a mile a minute. As we leave, Carson puts his arm around Jayla, their eyes wide and excited.

  A man lies in the mud, completely soaked while a little boy who can’t be more than six or seven years old kneels beside him shaking his shoulder and sobbing.

  “Daddy, please! Wake up! Wake up, Daddy!” he begs.

  Airen walks toward them warily as if he’s approaching a hurt animal that may snap at him. The boy latches onto his father and eyes Airen distrustfully.

  “Please, don’t hurt him,” he whimpers.

  “I’m not going to hurt either of you,” Airen assures him in a soft voice. “I want to help, okay? I want to see if your daddy is all right.”

  “Can you wake him up?” He sniffles.

  “I don’t know, but I’m going to try. He reaches down and checks for a pulse, looks under his eyelids, and puts a hand in front of his mouth to see if he’s breathing.

  “He’s unconscious!” he calls to me, and the little boy flinches. The poor thing. I put the rifle inside the door and rush to help.

  “He won’t wake up,” the boy sobs. He’s covered in mud, dripping wet, and shivering.

  “It’ll be okay. What’s your name?” I ask softly.

  “Walker.”

  “Hi, Walker. My name is Abby, and this is Airen. We live here. We’re going to help your dad, but we need to get you guys inside and out of the rain. You must be freezing.”

  I call for Jayla and Carson to come and help. Jayla speaks soothingly to Walker, and he allows her to lead him inside. Carson props the door open so we can carry the unconscious man indoors. We take him to the spare bedroom and place him on the bed.

  “What do you think? Is he sick? Maybe he fell?” Carson asks.

  “I don’t know. He’s covered in mud. We have to get him dried off. Airen, would you find him some clothes?”

  “You’re going to strip him?” he asks incredulously.

  “Would you rather do it?” He gives me a thunderous look and goes to search for some clothes that might fit the stranger. When he returns, I have the man’s shirt and jeans removed and I’m drying him. He really needs a bath, but I want to know what I’m dealing with first.

  “Abby?” Airen hesitates. “We don’t know this guy. He could be like that asshole who took you.” He’s staring at the unconscious man as if he may jump up and grab me.

  “Well, he’s harmless at the moment. What do you want me to do? Let him die?”

  He sighs and runs his hand through his charcoal hair. “Just be careful.”

  Jayla brings Walker to the bedroom door. She has dried him off and dressed him in one of Carson’s T-shirts. It reaches his knees.

  “What’s your daddy’s name?” I ask him.

  “Joseph Crane,” he whispers. “Can you wake him up?”

  “I’m going to try. Did he fall and hit his head?”

  “No, he just said he didn’t feel good. He can’t eat or drink. He was hot even in the rain,” he cries.

  I put my arms around him. “Are there any other people who stay with you?” Airen is hanging on our every word.

  “All the other people went to the afterlife.”

  “Okay, honey. I want you to listen to me. I know it’s scary to be with strangers, but Jayla and Carson are very nice. I’m going to give your daddy some medicine to help him get better, but he might still sleep all night. Why don’t you go with Jayla and Carson and watch some cartoons?”

  “You have T.V.?” he asks, astonished. With a small smile, he follows Jayla and Carson to the living room.

  Airen stares at me. “He could get us sick. Whatever he has could be contagious.”

  “Again, I’m open to any suggestion you have, Airen, but in the meantime he’s burning up. I’m starting an IV so we can at least give him fluids and some ibuprofen to bring down the fever.”

  I realize Airen is scared and trying to protect us, but I don’t have time for it right now. He watches as I take Joseph’s temperature with an ear thermometer. I’m alarmed to see the digital readout blinking 105 degrees. “We have to cool him off,” I mutter. I take my time inserting the IV. I’ve practiced, and I know I can do it, but trying to find a vein on the strange unconscious man is unnerving. Airen winces when I slip the needle under the skin. “You don’t have to stay for this.”

  “I’m not leaving you alone with him.” He frowns and plants himself in a chair to watch. I manage to get the drip started without a problem and inject the ibuprofen just as Jayla pops her head through the door.

  “How is he?” she asks.

  “Still out and he has a fever.”

  “Do you want some help?”

  “Where’s Walker?”

  “He fell asleep on the couch. Poor little guy was worn out.”

  “I don’t know what’s making him sick. Perhaps it’s pneumonia from being in the cold rain?”

  “It’s probably an infection if he has a fever, or I suppose it could be a virus. Can we give him an antibiotic?”

  I consider it. “I’m worried he could be allergic. Let’s try to get the fever down and see if he wakes up first.”


  She nods and sits down beside me. I can almost see the wheels spinning in her brilliant little head. “Does he have a cut or wound that could be infected?” she asks, after a few minutes.

  I didn’t think of that. We look him over carefully. She strips off his soggy socks and gasps at the deep gash across his right ankle, which is swollen and obviously infected. His whole foot is hot and red.

  “We have to give him an antibiotic. He could get blood poisoning or even gangrene,” she says fearfully.

  She’s right. We search through a book on antibiotics and their indications.

  “Why don’t we try this one?” she suggests, pointing to the list. “It’s strong, and I know we have it in our supplies.” I agree and prepare to attach the bag. “Let me.”

  “No, I trust you a hundred percent, honey, and if I were sick, you’re the person I’d want to take care of me. I know you can do it, but if he’s allergic to antibiotics this may kill him, and I don’t want you to be the one who administered it if that happens.”

  I give him the antibiotic and wait. After a few minutes pass we are at least confident he’s not going to have an allergic reaction.

  “We need to clean out the wound, and we may as well do it while he’s knocked out. It won’t hurt him as much.”

  “It may even wake him up,” Jayla says hopefully. Airen has been sitting quietly in the corner, watching us with disapproval written large all over his face.

  “Will you make up the other bed?” I request. If he’s going to stalk me he may as well be of some use. “We’ll put Walker in here with him tonight so he won’t panic if he wakes and doesn’t know where he is. You could make something to eat, too.”

  “All right,” he agrees, frowning, and silently puts sheets on the spare bed.

  “Thank you. Hey!” I call as he’s leaving the room. “Don’t worry about us, we’ll be fine,” I say softly. Looking less than convinced, he doesn’t argue before disappearing.

  The wound looks much better after we clean and bandage it. His fever has dropped to one hundred one degrees, a definite improvement. Airen has taken over admirably with Walker, keeping him entertained, making sure he eats, and giving him a bath. The poor kid is exhausted. He carries him to bed and covers him with a heavy blanket.

  “Are you going to bed?” he asks.

  “Not yet, he may wake up soon.” Not disguising his frustration, he walks out, returning with a plate of spaghetti and a bottle of water.

  “You need to eat dinner at least,” he insists, handing me the food. What am I going to do with him? Sweet and stubborn all rolled into one.

  “Thank you.” I peek at his sullen face as he sits beside me. “You don’t have to worry about me, or Jayla. He’s got an infection, an injured foot, and he’s dehydrated. If he wakes he’ll be too weak to even get out of bed.”

  “And what are we going to do if he does recover?”

  “I don’t know. You’re right, we have no idea what kind of person he is, but I don’t want to be scared of every new person we meet because of what one awful man did. Plus, there’s Walker to consider. He can’t be more than seven. Surely, you don’t want to put them out while his father is sick?”

  He sighs. “No, not while he’s sick, and Walker is five years old,” he says, making it clear he’ll have no problem kicking them out after Joseph’s well. I decide not to dwell on the what ifs, since this isn’t a situation where we can plan ahead.

  “Let’s just try to get him well, and then we can decide what comes next.”

  “Fine, I’m going to bed. Call me if you need me.” He’s so stiff and reserved. I understand he’s being cautious, but this is the first person we’ve seen in months. Why is he so positive it’s a bad thing? Why isn’t he the least bit thrilled there are two more people in our small world? Sometimes I can’t figure out what goes on in that beautiful head.

  I lean back in my chair and doze lightly, fading in and out of dreams where Airen is yelling at Joseph to get the fuck out of his house. “What is your problem?” I ask over and over again. “What the hell is your problem?” A moan brings me out of my dream, and I come to fast. He’s awake.

  “Walker,” he mumbles.

  “He’s in bed beside you.”

  His face relaxes in relief. “Where are we?”

  “You passed out, and we found you in our yard. You’re sick. The cut on your foot is infected.”

  “I know. I caught it on a barb wire fence, and I was searching for a pharmacy, but I think we got lost. I was confused.”

  “You had a high fever. I’m Abby.”

  “Joseph.”

  “Nice to meet you.” He chuckles, and I smile at him. It’s the first time I’ve really looked at him. He’s thin with tumbles of curly blond hair, pale skin, and sea green eyes. His thick red lips make him look as if he’s wearing lipstick, but I suppose that’s from the fever. He’s cute, even as pitiful as he is at the moment. “Well, Joe, I’m giving you antibiotics and ibuprofen. You were dehydrated as well, so you have an IV.”

  “Call me Joseph, please. My dad was Joe. Were you a nurse?”

  “No, I’ve had a lot of time to read. Plus, my daughter is a medical prodigy.” I laugh and tell him about Jayla, Carson, and Airen.

  “Walker isn’t sick?”

  “No, but he was exhausted. He ate and had a bath. He was happy to watch cartoons.”

  “I assume those are generators I hear?”

  I nod. He’s fighting to keep his eyes open. “I’ll let you sleep, but I’m right across the hall if you need anything. Just yell for me.”

  “Thank you for taking care of me and my boy.”

  “You’re more than welcome.”

  I change clothes and go to the bathroom to clean up and brush my teeth. When I return to my room, Airen is sitting on my bed.

  “So, he’s awake?”

  “He was for a few minutes. I think he’ll be all right,” I reply.

  His hand runs through his hair, a sure sign he’s stressed. What’s wrong with him? Why is he even awake?

  “Airen, do you want to talk about something? Is something wrong?”

  He stares at me for a moment. “No, I’m going back to bed,” he mutters and walks out before I can question him further. I’m too tired to ponder the intricacies of Airen’s thought processes tonight. My bed feels so good, I fall asleep almost instantly.

  * * * *

  Most of my time is spent taking care of Joseph over the next couple of days. Airen’s mood hasn’t improved one iota. He’s so grouchy. I assume it’s because he’s getting stuck with more of the household duties in my absence so I ask Jayla to take over the cooking for a few days.

  Joseph is well enough to stand up for a few minutes at a time. His fever is gone, and the wound is healing, but he’s still very weak. I’ve been filling him in on how we keep the house warm, how we cook, and shower.

  “Are you telling me you can take a hot shower?” he asks, his eyes lighting up.

  I giggle at his enthusiasm. “Yes, so can you when you’re up to it.”

  “Thank goodness, this dried mud really itches,” he complains, scratching at a spotty red rash covering his neck and chest.

  “Look...” I hesitate. “I’ll help you get a shower if you aren’t too embarrassed. I’m sure you don’t have anything I haven’t seen before, or I can ask Airen to help you.”

  “Are you sure? You’ve done enough for us already, and I doubt Airen will like it.”

  I glance at him in surprise. “Why do you say that?”

  “I wouldn’t like my girl watching some other guy in the shower.”

  He grins. Is he trying to be a smart ass? He’s seen Airen, and he has to know that isn’t the case.

  “Airen and I are just friends, so don’t worry. I’ll go heat the water and get you some clean clothes.”

  The kids are all in bed, and Airen is reading in his room when I help Joseph out of bed and into the bathroom where we’ve rigged up the camp shower.

&nbs
p; “I don’t know how long I can stay standing,” he admits.

  “It’s okay.” I place a plastic chair just out of the spray. “Get wet, and then you can sit down to get soaped up.”

  He nods and slips out of his boxer briefs, avoiding my eyes. “I really owe you one after this.”

  “I’ll ignore your red face if you’ll ignore mine.” Mud runs off of him for the first minute while he stands in the spray. After rinsing as much as he can, he flops into the chair.

  “I just need a minute,” he says apologetically.

  I take the washcloth from him. “Let me.”

  His face is as red as a stoplight, but he acquiesces. He’s weaker than either of us anticipated. I quickly lather up the washcloth and wash down his back, arms, chest, and stomach. “Can you stand and rinse for a second?” He complies, but his legs start to shake. I turn the chair around, and he drops into it as if his body weighs a ton. “Lean your head back into the water.” I work fast, washing his hair and rinsing until the water runs clear. “Almost done.”

  “Thanks,” he whispers. Kneeling, I wash his legs and feet before wiping his face and neck with a clean cloth. I don’t like how pale he’s becoming. He’s had enough.

  “Here.” I hand him the cloth. “Finish your...um...other parts, and you’re done.”

  He quickly washes his private areas before standing under the spray once more to rinse. I turn off the water, and he puts his arm around my shoulders as I help him out of the shower. Throwing a robe on him instead of the sweats I had ready, since he looks like he’s about to collapse, I help him back to his room, dripping and shivering.

  We run into Airen in the hallway, and he gapes at both of us. I’m nearly as soaked as Joseph, although I’m wearing clothes at least. Joseph does his best to pull the robe closed. The look of shock on Airen’s face turns to dismay, and then surprisingly, to anger. What the hell? I didn’t bother him or ask him to help. He stalks into his room and slams the door without a word.

  “I told you he wouldn’t like it,” Joseph says. “I’m sorry. The last thing I want to do is cause trouble for you.”