Last Woman

by Druga, Jacqueline

  It was too much.

  Far too much.

  I screamed. Relentlessly with agony, I cried out, trying to make my way to Mikey’s lifeless body.

  Dodge held me back.

  I had actually been shot. His aim as dead on. I was a moment away from that end result I sought just a few months earlier. Had it not been for Dodge’s quick interference, I would have been dead.

  Not that it mattered.

  Dodge had tackled me from the left, when he did so, my left arm extended and in that split second from the hit of his body the bullet grazed across my lower bicep.

  If Dodge had been one split second later the bullet would have hit my chest.

  I suppose Dodge didn’t want to add to my injury and he stopped holding me back. I broke free and raced to Mikey’s body. As if I expected him to still be alive. It was not something I should have done.

  I saw it from a distance, to see what was left of him up close was too much to handle. Despite his obviously self-inflicted wounds there was something else I noticed.

  A look of peace on Mikey’s face.

  He opted out of this life.

  Life … if that what you could call it.

  I must have been bleeding badly, because it my shock, I recalled Dodge wrapping his shirt around my arm. I went through stages. Screaming, crying, hysterical then quiet.

  Staring out the car window all the way back, Dodge’s voice sounded like it was in a can.

  “We’ll get you home. Figure out a way to close that up. It’s a flesh wound.”

  I didn’t respond. The only thing I did say was, “Rich’s bike" when I saw we had passed it.

  There was no pain, it subsided and I figured that was my body shutting down in shock. The reality of how bad I was bleeding hit me when I heard the reactions when we arrived back.

  Dodge carried me in the house.

  “Good God, what happened?” Doyle asked.

  “She was shot.”

  “The kid?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Where’s Mikey?” asked George. “Is he okay?’

  “No,” replied Dodge, carrying me into the den.

  Darie screamed and cried, I heard him and also heard Doyle trying to calm him down.

  I was in such a state that nothing was really registering the way that it should.

  Dodge placed me on the couch in the den. “You’ll be okay. It was bleeding pretty bad.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “Well, I do.” Dodge said. “I’ll see if Mr. Doyle has any experience in this. If not, you’re stuck with me fixing it. I can do it, but it won’t be pretty.”

  “I don’t care. Mikey’s dead.”

  “Mikey took his own life. I am sorry you had to see that. I’m sorry he decided this world wasn’t for him. But he almost took you with him, and that is what I’m thinking about. I’ll be right back.” He leaned over me, staring for a moment, then after running his hand over my face, Dodge walked out.

  I lifted my uninjured arm to my eyes, covering them and I began to cry.

  Mikey had taken his own life and I was a catalyst in that. He didn’t process the loss of my son and I compounded that by pushing him away and not helping him. He was already fragile when the world fell ill. A fragility I could have stopped.

  Mikey was the last living part of my previous life, I watched him die and I somehow kept thinking it was a sign for me.

  I blamed myself. I was sinking to a new low and couldn’t help but feel it was all my fault that Mikey was dead.

  My fault that he killed himself. It was something I would have to live with for the rest of my life.

  Or did I?

  41. Decisions

  The entire day after Mikey had died was a blur. Self-medicated on large amounts of alcohol and sleeping pills, a deadly combination, but I didn’t really care.

  The day he died, it hurt. It hurt so bad and was such a reminder that I just didn’t want to deal with it, so the next day I closed off. The third day I didn’t take the sleeping pills, but I drank, enough to be numb. Enough to be like I used to be after the accident.

  I shut down.

  It was almost as if Mikey’s death was a wakeup call or something. A call screaming at me that I wasn’t meant to survive, that any life I had on earth was meant to be filled with pain and disappointment.

  A couple times both Darie and George came in to see me, and asked if I was going to pack.

  They talked enthusiastically about how Dodge got tons of gas for the RV, and that Mr. Doyle was showing them how to use the CB radio that was already in Fastball.

  My depressed state made for an increasing suspicion of this Kentucky move. Even if it were a military base, how did we know it was military?

  How did we know it was anything good? They could be sadists waiting to prey on the hopeless and helpless.

  I expressed my feelings and even Dodge said he understood where I was coming from.

  Until May 16th. Three days after Mikey’s death, three days of me shutting down in that room, an affirmation of that Kentucky camp arrived.

  It didn’t confirm anything I felt.

  Apparently, Mr. Doyle made an impression on the man and the boy who were traveling south.

  “Faye, come quick,” Dodge poked his head in the room. “Bud is talking to that man he met. He’s radioing.”

  He disappeared in his excitement from the doorframe before I even placed my feet on the floor. It took me a moment to realize ‘Bud’ was Mr. Doyle.

  I could hear the radio as I stepped from my room.

  The man and the boy made it to Kentucky, to the training center and then found Hashman so he could radio us.

  “It’s a good thing, Bud, it really is,” The man said. “I had to tell you because I know you were leery about coming down. They need you. They do. I feel good. Hopeful. Finally. You have to see Bud, it’s all kids. All but a handful. Kids. Life will go on.”

  “That’s an awesome thing, Jim, I’m glad you radioed,” Mr. Doyle said. “I really am because I was worried.”

  “No need. Tell me you’re still coming.”

  “We are.”

  The man, Jim, began spouting routes to Mr. Doyle. Stating he had to take a longer way because so many roads were jammed with traffic or closed. He and the boy took nearly five days to make it there. But for Mr. Doyle, the man told the best way to take.

  Mid directions, I left the dining room. I didn’t need to hear that they had to go east and take that road and this.

  On my way back to the room, I thought about the young man I spoke with on the radio. I never made contact with him again. I wondered if he made it there. Maybe he was just listening and couldn’t call out.

  Back in my room, I sat on the edge of the bed and poured another glass of bourbon.

  There was a single knock on the door and Dodge walked in. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” I looked up.

  “Pretty encouraging about Kentucky, huh?’

  “Yes it is.”

  “Got to tell you, Faye, I was worried like you that it was a bad thing. But that guy’s voice, He was excited. And how about there being all kids down there?”

  “Yes, I heard.” I took a huge gulp of my early day drink. “How about that?”

  “How’s the arm?”

  “Fine.”

  “Have you started packing your things yet?” Dodge asked. “I see you still have pictures out.” He walked to the nightstand and lifted a photo of my kids. Immediately I took it from his hand and set it down.

  “I guess the pictures are the last thing you’ll bring. Are you … are you gonna take anything from the kids’ rooms? I know you said …”

  “I haven’t been in there.” I cut him off.

  “I see.” He walked over to my bedroom door and closed it.

  The look on his face made me think that I was back in school, waiting on the principal, because I was in trouble.

  “Faye, I don’t know what to do here. I don’t.”


  “What do you mean?”

  “Tell me what to do. I thought, you know, we were becoming friends. I thought we were planning. But … I know you’ve been through a rough time.”

  I scoffed at that with a laugh as I took a drink.

  “We all suffered about Mikey.”

  “No.” I set down the glass. “You knew it was coming. You knew he was unstable, how many times did you say something to that effect. You saw a teenage boy kill himself. I saw... the last part of my world drop to a pile of bodies. I saw that part of my life explode and I caused it. I attributed to that.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  “Yeah, I did. It started after Mark’s death.”

  “He said you took pills.”

  “Yep. I did. I should have died.”

  “Who caused that?” Dodge asked.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Who made you take the pills? Who caused you to want to die?”

  “No one it was my choice.”

  “Exactly,” Dodge said. “Just like it was Mikey’s. I don’t expect you to heal from this right away. I don’t. This was a personal loss to you. But we need you.”

  I shook my head and started to refresh my glass.

  “And we don’t …” Dodge snatched the bottle from my hand. “Need you to be a drunk.”

  “That’s who I am.”

  “No, it isn’t. Faye, you’re shutting us out. Don’t.”

  “I have to. I have to shut you out and I have been on purpose.”

  “Why?” Dodge asked.

  “Because I’m not going.”

  Breathless, Dodge squeaked out. “What?”

  “I’m not going to Kentucky. I’m not. That’s why I am withdrawing, that’s why I haven’t packed. I’m not going.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s not for me, Dodge. And there’s a laundry list.”

  “Then spill it,” Dodge sat on the bed next to me. “If there’s a laundry list of reasons, let me hear them.”

  I stared down to my hands as I spoke, not wanting to look at Dodge, to see his expression or lack of. “This house, this is where I belong. The memories I have here can’t fit in a box.”

  “That’s bullshit. Memories are in your mind, and that goes everywhere.”

  “It more than the mind, it is the smells, sights. The kids are another reason. I can’t take the worry. I can’t take or chance facing something happening to another child I am close to. I’d rather not know them, or care for them, than to be hurt again. And another reason. You. If I am the last woman on earth, then how fair is that to you? You’ll spend more time worry about protecting me. It will be on your mind constantly.”

  “We don’t know that. We can work that out.”

  “No, we can’t and we don’t know, you’re right. But I do know you asked me to shave my head.”

  “That’s not a reason not to go,” Dodge said.

  “Yeah, it is, because that told me you were worried about me.”

  “Yeah, let’s be realistic Faye. If you are the last woman, that’s a scary prospect. It is. Do you think it will be any better up here alone?”

  “I do. It’s better for me to be alone.”

  Dodge chuckled emotionally and stood. “What are you doing to do? Wave goodbye and then stay here and die?”

  I looked up.

  Another emotional laugh and Dodge turned his head. “Unbelievable. After what we’ve been through.”

  “Been through? Dodge, I’ve known you two weeks. We’ve been though nothing. I drank myself into oblivion to escape a dead world, I woke up … to a dead word. Mikey was the last thing remaining of everything I loved and I watched him die. Almost as if on purpose, as if he was reserved for me to watch.”

  “That’s bullshit,” Dodge spun to me. “You can care about people. You can care about the kids. George. Darie …”

  “I don’t want to! Caring means chancing hurt. I’ve had enough.”

  “We all had enough. We just have to move on. Survive.”

  I shook my head. “There is more to being alive than just surviving. There’s the will and the need to be alive, to feel alive. For that it takes life. Sadly … me staying here, me dying, is just a formality. My life ended months ago. I’m now just catching up to where I need to be.”

  Dodge shook his finger, tried to speak, then with a wave of his arm, walked to the door. “You’re wrong. You are wrong. You’ll realize it. Then it will be too late.”

  “It’s my loss then.”

  “No, it’s not. It’s a loss to everyone that deserved a chance to know you. But it’s your choice and I won’t ask you to change your mind.”

  Dodge walked out, slamming my door behind him.

  I just sat there and finished my drink.

  42. Goodbye

  “I’m not going to try to change your mind,” Mr. Doyle said to me. “I don’t want you to think that’s why I wanted to steal a moment.”

  “I know,” I nodded. It was just after daybreak, Dodge added an extra day to waiting. I really think Dodge thought if he stuck around I’d change my mind, or maybe he was hoping to miss the convoy.

  “Your choice is your choice,” Mr. Doyle told me. “When Rich and the kids were killed, I remember saying to Becca that my God, were you brave. You have to have been the bravest person I met. It takes a lot to love in this world and to keep going when it’s gone. I don’t know how I’m doing it now. We all make choices, there are no wrong ones now.”

  “Thank you.” I embraced him. “Watch the kids.”

  “I will. They’re a heck of a focus.”

  The kids.

  It wasn’t my choice not to tell them I wasn’t going. Dodge wanted to spare them from being hurt or thinking it was something they did. He also knew they’d not quite understand why I opted to stay behind. So he told them I would join them later after they found more women, because I didn’t want to be the only girl.

  George gave me a huge hug and a kiss to the cheek. He was excited about leaving and said to me, “I hope when we get there, there will be girls. Will it work if there are little girls?”

  “Yes, it will,” I hugged him.

  “Good. Listen to the radio, because we’re gonna call.”

  “You behave and take care of your brother. You’re all he’s got.”

  George produced a quizzical look. “No, I’m not anymore. He has Mr. Doyle, Dodge and you. There’s a lot more people today than I thought we had last week.”

  The child gave me a kiss and then Darie approached me. He held up this object. Obviously, it was a truck that he tried to build out of Lego’s.

  “For me?” I asked.

  “For you. I made it.”

  “Oh, honey, why don’t you take it? It’s so nice.”

  “It’s for you,” he smiled. “A flying truck. You have something to play with when we’re gone.”

  I clutched the truck, wheels wobbly, it had a propeller on top as well. But when I held it in my hand, the propeller fell off.

  “That’s ok,” Darie picked it up. “It fixes. Look how easy it goes back together.”

  I never was any good with Lego’s and when I attached the propeller, it was on the wrong place.

  Darie reached up to readjust, but stopped. “That looks good. Don’t worry if you break it again. Just fix it. It can look different and it’s still the same. It’s still a toy.”

  He said it with such innocence and a smile as wide as his face.

  “I’ll try to keep it as it is.”

  “Okay.” He gave me a quick hug. A pretty good one for a four year old. I kissed him and hugged him in return.

  He darted out the door with his brother and waved as he did.

  Dodge.

  He was all that remained and it was his turn to say goodbye.

  “I told you I won’t ask you to change your mind,” Dodge said. “I’ve been good about that.”

  “Yes, you have.”

  “Just know, I want you to.”

  I l
owered my head.

  I thought he was going to leave, he turned as if he were, then stopped. “Faye.” He exhaled. “I have never begged anyone for anything in my entire life.” He stepped to me. “Please. Please. Change your mind and go with us.”

  “Dodge …”

  “It’s not too late. It isn’t.”

  “Please don’t do this. Just … just say goodbye.”

  “There’s gas on top of the wagon.”

  “I know. You shouldn’t have done that.”

  Dodge shook his head. “I had to. It’s for you. There’s a map on the front seat and a radio. Channel seven. I’ll have the CB on seven. Radio me. It’s all ready for you if you change your mind.”

  “I won’t. You better go.”

  He stepped to me and put his arms tightly around me and pressed his cheek to mine. I could feel his breath against my ear and then he spoke in a heavy whisper. “I know you said you have nothing to live for. But you do. You just have to see it and want it. I pray to God, you do.” He placed his lips to my cheek, left them there a moment then pulled back.

  “Be careful. Goodbye, Dodge.”

  He shook his head and laid his hand on my cheek. “Not goodbye, I refuse to believe that. Refuse.” Another kiss to my forehead and he moved back. “Thank you for saving my life that day. I wish I could have saved yours.”

  I wanted to say, ‘you did, you stopped that bullet’, but that wasn’t what he meant and without further hesitation, Dodge walked out.

  Standing in my doorway, I watched him not look back, and get into Fastball.

  From the front seat Mr. Doyle waved. Dodge never looked at me. He pulled from the driveway, and drove down the street.

  I stayed until they were no longer in sight.

  Dodge, Mr. Doyle, George and Darie... had left.

  43. Revelation

  A silence consumed the house and it was unlike any I had ever experienced. It didn’t happen right away, in fact it was a delay, hours later, just as evening set in, so did the odd silence.

  I remember before Rich and the kids were killed, how I savored the silence of the house when they’d go to the store. I’d lay on the couch, close my eyes and always, no matter what time it was, took a nap.