Last Woman

by Druga, Jacqueline

  I prayed he was alright and that it was only the battery. He’d call again, surely he would.

  The knock at the door, snapped me out of it and I hurried to open it.

  No sooner did I unlock it, George blasted in.

  “The pump worked. We got tons of gas. Gonna fill the RV and get more,” he said.

  Darie ran in and hugged my legs. The boys both reeked of gasoline. I ran my hand over Darie’s head, absorbing the feel of his greeting.

  Dodge walked in. “Boys wash up.”

  “Dodge, did you hear the radio? I made contact.”

  “You what?” He asked shocked.

  “A young man. But I lost it. I was able to tell him about Kentucky.”

  “Good. That’s good. He’ll radio back. I’m sure.”

  That’s when I realized Dodge was standing by the door and not moving. “Dodge, what’s wrong?”

  “We have a situation.”

  George spoke upbeat. “We found the teenage boy. He wasn’t shot.”

  Just as I gasped in some sort of happy shock, I noticed, Dodge had a look of confusion. “Is he sick?”

  “No, but he won’t come in,” Dodge said. “Told me he was scared. That you didn’t want to see him.”

  “That’s ridiculous. Does he know me?” I asked.

  “Said he did. He told me that you called him painful.”

  “What the hell?” I shook my head. There was no way I knew who it was. Every person I knew was gone. Let alone someone I would call painful. I was baffled, that wasn’t me. But when I looked out the door, I realized that was me several months earlier.

  When I lost my family I shunned and pushed away anyone and anything that was a reminder of them. In my grief, I once bitterly told a teenage boy to stay away because he was a painful reminder of everything I lost. Now that boy stood in my driveway. Only he was no longer a painful reminder but something I needed and a positive glimpse of a life I loved.

  Standing there, scared to death, dirty and crying was my son’s best friend, Mikey.

  35. Remembrance

  The world had taken from me everything I loved. And it took it before the ERDS virus swept across the globe. I had nothing left, but pictures and memories. And even the memories were soured with the bitterness of my tragic loss.

  I was an anomaly in the quiet world. I didn’t care. I woke up to death long before that pile of bodies. I woke up to loss every day, the world dying, to me, was really nothing in hindsight. We measure tragedy on how it affects us personally and the ERDS virus emotionally didn’t faze me.

  I had nothing left … or so I thought.

  The moment Mikey stepped into view, I realized I did have something left. I had a tangible being that was from my life. Not only that, a young man I knew since Boy Scouts, watched him grow, he was a part of my son and in some way, I got a part of my son returned to me.

  How fortunate I was.

  But I had erred and I had a lot of making up to do. In my selfish grief, I had hurt that young man and it didn’t hit me until I saw him again, how much I had hurt him.

  Before, I didn’t want to hear Mikey talk about Mark and their memories, now I did.

  When Mark was killed, Mikey was around. He was at the house every day, in Mark’s room, trying to talk to me. Missing my son so much, that I failed to see how hurt he was because I was blinded by my own hurt.

  As much as me, in his own way, Mikey couldn’t comprehend his loss. But unlike me he reached out for a piece of Mark, me, and I pushed him away.

  I snapped.

  Three weeks after the funeral, Mikey was at the house. He was talking about how he and Mark were in some sort of gaming tournament and how he wasn’t going to do it now and I lost it.

  “Get out. Please. Leave.”

  I still recall the look on his face. The hurt, how lost he was.

  “Mrs. Wills?”

  “You look like him, act like him and I can’t look at you without my heart breaking. Every day you are here is a constant reminder of what I’ve lost. Leave and never come back. You’re just too painful to me.”

  He cried and ran out.

  How horrible I was. How absolutely horrible I was, and I vowed in a single second to do everything in my power to make up for the hurt I caused that child. If I could.

  He stood in my driveway and I ran to him. He looked as if he were going to run. In fact Mikey backed up, but I grabbed his thin arm, yanked him close then threw my arms around him in the biggest motherly embrace I could deliver.

  He was stiff and then his body almost collapsed. His hands grabbed on to me and his head buried into my shoulder.

  Mikey sobbed and I cried as well.

  “Mike, I am sorry, baby, I am so sorry I hurt you. I am so sorry that you were afraid to see me. I promise with everything I am, that I am here for you.”

  He didn’t stop crying, he was a weak child, like me and Darie, left for dead and confused when he opened his eyes.

  We had each other.

  I was so grateful to see Mikey and hold him. Not because he was a piece of my past and of my son, but just because he was Mikey.

  36. Frame of Mind

  It didn’t take long, after sobbing in my embrace, that Mikey collapsed. I didn’t know what caused it, illness, being weak, hungry. Dodge carried him into the house. Mikey needed tending to. Dodge cleaned him up for me. He then asked me to do something very hard, find clothes, possibly something that belonged to Mark.

  I completely froze in my tracks.

  “Faye, I’m sorry, I thought maybe you had some of his clothes.”

  “I do.”

  “Can you get them? Should I put Mikey in Mark’s room?”

  I quickly answered, “No.”

  “What?”

  “I haven’t opened Mark or Sammy’s room in months. I don’t... I can’t.”

  Reading Dodge’s face was difficult. Did he understand or was he pacifying me?

  “So I should just leave him in your room?”

  “Yes, and I’ll look for clothes.”

  “Please.”

  I didn’t go into Mark’s room, I couldn’t. I reached for the door knob, but I couldn’t physically bring myself to enter the room. Instead I went to the laundry room, and was able to find some clothes from the shelf.

  Dodge didn’t say anymore when he returned; he just poured a can of soup in a pot and ignited the Coleman stove which now sat on the counter. “He needs to rest, eat, and comprehend,” Dodge said,

  “What do you mean?”

  “Where’s the whiskey?” Dodge asked.

  “Wow, cabinet above the fridge. It’s not even six.”

  Dodge didn’t reply or respond to my comment about him drinking. But something was up. Dodge wasn’t me. He wasn’t a ‘I need a drink’ person, or at least he didn’t seem it over the past few days.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “Something isn’t right with that kid.”

  “Is he sick?”

  “Aside from dehydrated and lack of food, he’s not right. It took us four times calling him for him to stop. Trust me; George yelling will wake the dead. No pun intended to the zombie fear that runs rampant around here.”

  “He’s in shock then.”

  “Possibly, he didn’t want to come and that was before he knew we were with you.”

  “Oh, that’s wrong.”

  “It’s the truth and I’m not saying it to be a dick.” Dodge poured a drink, shot it back, then poured another. He tossed the warmed soup in a mug. “Come with me to talk to him.”

  I looked down, Dodge was holding out his hand to me I didn’t take it, only brushing by him and moving to the bedroom on the first floor.

  I yelled back to the boys that we’d be back and make them dinner. They didn’t respond, once again, Dodge found snacks for them and they’d be on a sugar rush.

  His telling the boys, “No one is gonna make candy for a long time, eat up now,” didn’t cut it.

  Mikey was lying
on the bed when we walked in, eyes open. Almost eerily staring out.

  “Brought you soup, guy.” Dodge said. “You didn’t touch your water.”

  “I will.” Mikey sat up. “I can’t stay.”

  Dodge set down the soup. “You can’t go. In fact, if you don’t hydrate and eat, you won’t be going anywhere much longer.”

  “I don’t care.”

  I moved and sat on the side of the bed next to Mikey. “I know this is a lot to take in.”

  “You don’t know.”

  “How can you say that?” I asked.

  “Because you don’t. You know what I’m talking about. Who did you lose?”

  Dodge cleared his throat. “Ok, I know you have been through a lot …”

  “Dodge,” I stopped him. “Mikey, what can I do?”

  “Let me go. Let me go find my mom.”

  I peered over my shoulder to Dodge then back to Mikey. “Do you think she’s still alive?”

  “I don’t know. I am, right? You are. He … he is. I saw my Dad... I saw him die. But my mom, last I know she was only getting the fever. If I lived how do I know she didn’t? Those kids there, they’re brothers. It might be a family thing.”

  Immediately, what went through my mind was what George had seen. The people waking up only to be shot. “You’re right. It might be.”

  “Faye.” Dodge called out almost a warning.

  “Have you gone home?” I asked.

  “Yes. She wasn’t there.”

  “Where have you checked?”

  “Faye.”

  “I’ve been going through the bodies at the medical setup. That was where I saw her last.”

  I heard Dodge breathe out heavily, then he said. “That’s what he was doing when I found him.”

  “And I’ll keep looking,” Mikey snapped. “Until I know. I need to know.”

  I placed my hand on his leg. “Mikey, I understand. I do. Was it a military setup?”

  “Yes.”

  “OK, then they kept track, at least at first. Did you look at any paperwork they had.”

  Mikey shook his head. “Just the bodies.”

  “Well, then you rest tonight, eat, and we’ll go tomorrow. I’ll help you look. Deal?”

  “You’ll help me look through the bodies?”

  “Every one of them if I need to.” I handed him the soup. “Just eat, Ok?”

  Mikey nodded and took the mug, I ran my hand over his head, stood and walked to the door. Dodge followed me out.

  “Faye,” he whispered. “What are you doing?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s been days.”

  I kept walking, down the hall then to the four steps that led to the main floor. “Are you implying, Dodge, this is an impossible task?”

  “Nothing is impossible, Faye. But don’t you think if his mother were alive, the first place she’d look is that camp as well?”

  “We’re gonna look. I’m gonna help him.”

  “We have to get ready to leave. We have to prep the RV."

  “Then you do it. I have to help Mikey.”

  “I watched the news Faye. Every person that died at those local places, they didn’t keep the bodies there. They put them in dump trucks.”

  “What’s your point?”

  “My point is, more than likely, she’s probably at one of the big places, like my kids. You don’t see me cutting into every body bag. I saw what I needed to face the truth. I have a bad feeling, a really bad feeling about that kid.”

  “And you don’t know him. I do,” I said. “I have known him since he was six years old. I have to help him.”

  “Okay.” Dodge lifted his hands. “You help him search. I’ll get things ready to leave. But you can’t search forever. Eventually, instead of helping him search, you’re gonna have to help him face reality.”

  “I will.”

  “I’ll hold you to that,” Dodge said. “Because right now, I don’t know if that kid’s frame of mind can handle reality.”

  37. Last Woman

  Just after we finished supper, Mikey came out of the room. He played with the boys for a little bit, talking, and doing some card game I knew Darie didn’t understand.

  This was all while Dodge played with the other radio. Calling out in an imitation of Hashman. Cool, calm and reserved. It was odd because it really didn’t sound like Dodge at all.

  He called out, I guess hoping to get the man in Kentucky or the boy I got on the radio. Neither with any success.

  Mikey went back to bed and about that point, Dodge decided he was done with the radio and was in the mood for grilled Spam. I didn’t think anyone would ever be in the mood for grilled Spam.

  Unleavened bread he picked up from the store, jar of cheese whiz, and Spam in hand, he fired up the grill.

  Dumb luck was about to kick in again when George asked if he could try calling out.

  Dodge simply said, “be my guest." And George started on that radio.

  It was a chilly night, so we were inside, Dodge attributed that to not being able to make clear contact.

  I sat at the dining room table watching George, and Darie approached me with a picture of Sammy.

  “Who is she?”

  A lump formed in my throat. “That’s my daughter.”

  “Did she get the flu?” Darie asked.

  “No, she …” How to say it, how to tell a child younger than Sammy about what happened. “She had to go away before the flu.”

  “Was she my age?”

  “Just about.” I took the picture and stared at it. “This was her kindergarten picture.”

  “Did she have lots of toys?”

  “I think so.”

  It was a conversation I didn’t want to have. But how do you turn away a four year old boy? I gripped the picture of my beautiful daughter in my hands. She was smiling and still had all her baby teeth. What happened to her hair in that picture, I’ll never know. It was a mess, yet, I fixed it before school.

  About the point where I wanted to just ask Darie if we could not talk about her, my reprieve arrived.

  It came somewhere between Dodge announcing the Spam treats were done and Darie questioning if he could see Sammy’s room.

  Hashman.

  “Well it doesn’t surprise me,” Hashman said. “Another kid. Are you alone, son?”

  “No, sir. Hold on.”

  Dodge nearly dripped his plate of unappetizing Spam treats and whipped the radio receiver from George’s hand. “Is this Hashman in Kentucky?” Dodge asked.

  “It is. I take it you picked up my radio call. You’re not coming through very clear, but I hear you. Speak slow. Over.”

  “We did. We are planning on coming down. Over.” Dodge said.

  “We? As in more than you and the child?” Hashman asked then completed with the signature, ‘over’.

  “Yes. Five of us.”

  “That’s good. The move is not me. It’s the military that remained on base. Over.”

  “How many?” Dodge asked.

  “Three soldiers. Seventy civilians. How many adults do you have?”

  “Two. Over.”

  Hashman exhaled over the microphone. “That’s good to hear. Good to hear. We need adults; we have an awful lot of children down here. It’s looking like it may be gender specific. We’ll know more in Florida. Supposed to be some CDC doctor down there. But we haven’t located a woman yet. You? Over.”

  Dodge opened his mouth, paused and depressed the button. “Negative.” He looked at me. “I’ll keep an eye out though.”

  “Gotta make my hourly. See you soon. Where you from?”

  “Pennsylvania.”

  “See you soon, P-A. Out.”

  Dodge clenched that microphone in his hand and stared at the radio.

  “She’s a woman, ain’t she?” George asked. “How come you didn’t tell him Faye was with us?”

  “I want to keep that little tidbit to ourselves for now,” Dodge said. “Just for now.” />
  Then he did something I didn’t expect. He shut down the radio. Grabbing his Spam snack and his drink he sat at the table with me and said nothing about the exchange with Hashman. The only thing that came from Dodge’s mouth was when he swept up the playing cards and stated the fact that he hated the card game, Old Maid.

  Something was bothering Dodge, and it wasn’t just a child’s card game.

  I sent the boys into the other room to settle, so I could broach the conversation with Dodge. When they were clear from the room, I fixed a drink and rejoined Dodge. “That is a lot of people down there.”

  “Yeah, it is.” Dodge flipped through the cards.

  “How I can I be the only woman?”

  Dodge lifted his eyes. “You’re not. Just …” he cleared his throat. “The only one found. There has to be others. There has to be.”

  “What if there aren’t?” I asked.

  “Then we have problems.” He dropped the deck.

  “Are you rethinking going down there?”

  He turned and looked at me. “It’s civilization; it’s a lot of people working together to rebuild or whatever. The boys need that. Not so much rethinking going, just maybe rethinking how we’re gonna go about it. Just on the outside chance …” He stood. “You are the last woman.”

  He left me hanging and with a table full of scattered cards.

  It scared me that they were looking for women, and I guessed it scared Dodge even more. He didn’t bring it up again the rest of the evening, at least not around the boys.

  Dodge set up the living room camp, got them to sleep and checked on Mikey. I was still seated at the table, this time reading by the light of the lantern, when I heard the ‘thump’ on the floor and Dodge sat down across from me.

  “What would you think about cutting your hair?”

  “Cutting my hair? It’s not that long.”

  “I mean buzz it.”

  “What?” I laughed. “Why would I ….” And I paused. “You want me to pretend I’m a man.”

  “It may not be a bad idea.”

  “It’s a bad idea. What am I supposed to do, be a mute, as well? Why are we even going then?” I asked.

  “We have to go somewhere. We can’t stay north. Whether we go there or somewhere else, until we know you aren’t the last woman, it’s the best way.”