Last Woman (10 page)

He wanted to run. Had he not backed up into the shelf, scared out of his wits, the little boy would have taken off.

No older than four or five, the child was shaking. Empty juice boxes scattered around him, he omitted an odor that I had smelt before … on myself. He smelled exactly as I did.

“Son,” Dodge spoke softly.

His little eyes widened, he whimpered in what I guessed was fear and inched back.

“We aren’t gonna hurt you.” Dodge reached out his hand. “Come on. Let us help you.”

The boy didn’t move. I could see his little home there on the floor of the toy department. The Action Jackson Adventurer mask that illuminated must have been his light source.

I moved back while Dodge proceeded with caution, not wanting to scare him away.

Reaching into the cart, I grabbed one of the loose blankets that were only bound by a band of paper.

“What are you doing?” Dodge asked me.

“Trust me.” I said and flapped out the blanket. I didn’t want to tell Dodge the reason I thought he was failing was because he was big and scary. Hell, he scared me when I first met him.

Blanket draped over my arm, I walked by Dodge and crouched. I passed to the child my most compassionate and motherly look.

Sense it,
I beckoned in my mind,
Sense the mom in me.

I slowly widened my arms, crouching a few feet from him. Staring at him, leaving my eyes connected to him.

Wiggling my fingers slowly, I spoke as soft as I could, conveying as best as I knew how, that I understood he was hurt and scared. Sometimes the simple tone of a voice could sway a child more than anything. “Baby, come here. Come on sweetie.”

Down went the drink box and the boy jumped up, racing to me and nearly tripping over his child like survival items.

He ran straight into my arms, barreling me over and knocking me to my backside. His tiny arms wrapped around my neck so tight, his face pressed to mine and legs clenched to my body.

“It’s okay, I have you. I have you.” I whispered, my hand cradling his head while my other arm clutched him as tightly as I could.

At that moment it didn’t matter how badly he smelled, how dirty he was. He was child, lost and scared and he found safety in my embrace.

It was obvious he wasn’t letting go. His arms would tense up, relax then tense again as if he released, I’d let him go.

I wasn’t. No way no how.

Then in the midst of that hold, it started as a whimper and cascaded into a full blown cry. The child wept uncontrollable. And then I too, lost it and began to sob. My heart instantly broke for the little boy, for all he endured and experienced. The losses, the suffering, he was child, even more so a young one. A baby to me.

We weren’t going anywhere, not yet. I emotionally couldn’t move nor did I want to. Not yet. For the time being, on the floor of that discount store, I held on to more than a broken child, I held on to the first sign of living.

Dodge gathered up a bunch of drink boxes, as many as he could find. It was something I didn’t have at the house and knowing children, getting the boy to drink water would be tough.

I think Dodge felt bad that the child didn’t respond to him. Almost as if Dodge wanted and needed the boy to grab on to him. That’s what I thought because that’s how I felt.

I needed assistance to stand because the child wouldn’t let go. In fact, he didn’t let go all the way back to the house. He sat in the front seat with me, his chest to my chest, head down against me.

After the initial shock of finding him and the emotional breakdown on the floor of Walmart, we were able to assess what all that small child had done. We don’t know how he ended up at Walmart, although in the parking lot of the Big Bear Grocery store, right across the road was a huge military aid station. Maybe he was there and everyone died?

We didn’t know. He went to where he felt safe. Action hero figures. He had crackers and drink boxes, loads of drink boxes. A mask that lit up and a bunch of dead cell phones. I only guessed he used them until they died, maybe a light source or something.

How long he was there, we didn’t know either.

We didn’t know anything because the boy didn’t speak.

“I don’t think he ever will,” Dodge said in the car.

“He’ll speak again.” I then aimed my voice to his ear. “You’ll speak when you’re ready. If you spoke before this, you’ll speak after.”

“The shock may have done something. We don’t know what he saw.”

“I can only imagine. But he still went to a safe place, found food, and drinks. He was surviving on instincts. He’s going to be fine. Won’t you sweetie, you’ll be just fine.”

His arms tensed up around my neck.

“This is unbelievable. This is the best find of the day.” Dodge reached over and laid his hand on the boys head.

The child didn’t respond to the touch.

Dodge retracted his hand, rolling his fingers and making a fist while puckering his lips sadly.

“He’ll come around,” I said. “You’ll see.”

The house wasn’t far, and I hadn’t even thought about the next step with the child. As usual, Dodge did. Once we pulled into the house, I had barely stepped from the car when Dodge started stating what we’d do.

“Fire up your grill and start heating up water. Use the stuff I took from the water heater. There are six jugs in the kitchen.”

I nodded and saw him walking in a different direction. “Where are you going?”

“Your neighbors had a turkey fryer, I’m gonna use that for water. We can get five good gallons there too. He needs to be cleaned up, he’ll feel better.”

I agreed, the child did need to be bathed. He still hadn’t spoken or responded and I carried him into the house and straight to the kitchen.

“I have to set you down. I want to heat up some water so you can take a bath.”

He shook his head.

“I need to put you down, baby, you stay right by me, o
kay?"

His grip relaxed and I set him to the floor. I adjusted the blanket over his shoulders and looked at him.
For the first time I saw his face in the light.

His skin was pale and he had dark circles
around his eyes. Lips dry and cracked, and mucus was encrusted around his nose, and his dirty hair was matted with something. It was so dirty, I couldn’t determine the color. It was going to take a while to get him clean. His stared at me with his big blue eyes, so sad.

“Are you thirsty?”

He nodded.

“I’m gonna get the water started, and then we’ll get you something more to drink. We’ll eat after you get a bath.”

I know that sounded trivial and feeding the child should have been first but he already was so germ infested, I hated the thought of him even minutely consuming anymore.

The child stayed close to me and when Dodge returned, firing up that turkey deep fryer, I sent him back down to a house three doors away. I knew they had young boys and the child needed something to wear.

Dodge won over the boy when he not only returned with clothes, but a couple toys as well.

“Yeah, I got him,” Dodge said, so pleased with himself.

I knew it wouldn’t be long before the child stopped fearing Dodge. There was nothing to fear and kids know, sometimes they just know.

In fact, he seemed to prefer Dodge as the one to bathe him. I was happy about that because Dodge really wanted to do it.

It was as if both Dodge and I were grasping to this child, wanting any little piece of him so we could feel a little whole.

After an hour, we had enough water to partially fill the tub. It was hot and ready, and as instructed, I started another pot.

While I kept checking on them, I left the bath time to the men. The boy didn’t speak, I hadn’t heard his voice, but I heard Dodge, talking away. Making motor noises and car sounds to go with the toys he placed in the tub with the child.

We replenished the water repeatedly, pretty much using all the wash water that we had. Dodge told me not to worry; there were plenty of houses in the housing plan.

Hours later, the bath routine was complete and the child was starving. He devoured a meal of soup, fruit snacks, two drink boxes and numerous crackers with cheese spread.

I kept telling him to slow down; I didn’t want him to get sick. Thankfully he didn’t.

He yawned and that aside from crying and a whimper was the only noise he made then he crawled on the couch and fell fast asleep.

Dodge on one end of the couch, me on the other, the candles on the table lit the child that neither of us could stop staring at.

His head pressed against my leg and I ran my fingers through his blonde hair. I would have never known it was blonde.

“You really got this kid clean,” I said.

“It took a lot. I felt so bad for him.” Dodge closed his eyes tightly. “He … he had stuff in his hair he shouldn't have.”

“Like what?”

“Like … like … how do I want to say this… stringy honey.”

It took a second of confusion and then I processed what he meant and my hand shot to my mouth as I gasped.

“Flesh. Maggots …”

“How?” I asked breathy, barely able to comprehend. “How
...”

“I don’t know. I can guess. I think …. I think they pulled a ‘Faye’ on him.”

“What do you mean?”

“Left for dead. Piled in with the dead.”

My heart stopped and immediately a sickening knot grabbed at me and my hand clutched against the child’s face. “Oh my God. This poor baby.” Without any control, I just started to cry. Even remotely thinking about it hurt me.

“That’s the only thing I can think of. He probably was with the bodies across the road,
straggled out and headed to the Walmart because that was all he knew. This is just a guess, Faye, because there is no other reason for this child to have decomposing flesh on him. Thank God he wasn’t in a plastic bag.”

“Oh, Dodge.”

“I know.”

“I need a drink.”

He held up a finger, stood and walked from the room. He needed one too. It was a lot take in. I glanced down to the boy, my heart breaking every second I looked at him. No wonder he didn’t talk.

Dodge returned with a bottle, pouring us both a sipping amount.

“It’s not a wine night,” he said.

“No, it’s not.” I took the glass he handed me and immediately sipped it.

After a heavy sigh, Dodge sat on the couch. He carried the weight of worry along with his body. I saw it on his face, the way his shoulder slumped, and how dark his eyes were.

I knew exactly what was going through his mind as he stared at the child.

It was going through mine.

For as joyous as it was to find not just another person, but a child, that was how frightening it was. The thought of finding a helpless little boy was scary. If he was left for dead, then chances were so was another child. That was a thought I didn’t want to have, but one I had to face.

Sleep did not come easy for me. I stayed on the couch, next to the boy, not wanting to be away from him at all in case he woke up.

He didn’t. I checked him every time I opened my eyes. Checked to see if he was still breathing, responding to touch. Like a neurotic new mother with a newborn baby.

When I did doze off I was plagued with the dream of my awakening. Waking to darkness refrained in that cloth wrap, struggling to get free and rolling to the bottom of that decaying pile.

If I was horrified, I could only image how the child felt. Opening his eyes, not seeing his mother or father or anyone he knew, only lifeless bodies that looked like
something he may have seen on television or a movie.

He probably cried and screamed out and when no one answered, he withdrew.

It didn’t make sense, something was missing. If indeed he was in a pile of bodies, how did the child get mistaken for dead?

The aroma of coffee told me Dodge was awake, and as I slipped from the couch the boy sat up.

“Hey, Sweetie,” I said. “You alright?”

Innocently he looked at me and nodded.

“Thirsty? I bet you are.”

Again, he nodded.

I stood. “We can get something in the kitchen.”

The child grabbed hold of my hand and walked with me.

Dodge was pouring coffee from the camping percolator. “Morning.” He said. “Hey … little guy. You’re up. How are you feeling?”

He didn’t answer, just semi smiled.

“I’ll take that as better.” Dodge said. “Look what I found next door.” He placed a box of Cheerios on the counter. “Unopened, should be good.” He cracked open the box then the interior bag, grabbing a handful. “Yep.” He turned to me. “Don’t know a kid that doesn’t like Cheerios.”

“Some don’t,” I said.

“He does.” Dodge winked. “Hey, bud want some?”

Enthusiastically he nodded. After stealing a sip from my coffee, I grabbed a bowl. “Did you think of instant milk?”

“Better.” He lifted a cardboard box of Almond milk.

Immediately, upon seeing this the child shook his head.

“Dry it is,” Dodge poured him a bowl, setting it on the kitchen table.

Instead of sitting in the seat, like he did for his dinner, the boy took the bowl and walked in the other room.

I whispered, “What’s he doing?” then followed.

He had grabbed his toys from the coffee table, took them and his bowl and sat on the floor, eating in front of a blank television.

“Ah, man, that’s sad, probably waiting for his cartoon,” Dodge said. “Did you ask his name yet?”

“He’s not talking.”

“We should call him Wally.”

“Why should we …” I cringed. “Dodge, stop.” I knew why he wanted that name; it was because we found him at Walmart.

“If he doesn’t give us a name today, he’s getting Wally.”

Holding my coffee, I watched the child sit, eat and play with his toys and he kept looking at the television. “Dodge, you knew about this flu. You watched the news, right?”

“That’s all that was on.”

“Can I ask you some questions?”

“Sure.”

I slipped back into the dining room with my coffee to be out of the boy’s earshot, yet
still able to see him. “Tell me what you know.”

“One day you’re fine, the next you’re dying.”

“What do you mean?”

“When I was in County, the inmates would be yelling and screaming for the guards to let them out, and the next minute, you only heard moans. They went down fast, fever, symptoms … quiet.”

“What were the symptoms? The magazine said flu like.”

“Yep. Fever first, stuffy nose, headache,
and then the lungs start filling up. I mean you can hear it in the chest. Every breath, thick and rumbling,” Dodge explained. “You can’t cough. Well you try but it’s too thick to cough up and you struggle. You can’t breathe to take a step or anything.”

“You watched all those men die?” I asked.

Dodge nodded.

“I’m sorry for that.”

“And I’m glad you didn’t have to witness it.”

“Did you … did you hear about anyone recovering?”

“No. Why?”

“Obviously, you have some immunity ….”

“See.” Dodge snapped his finger. “Yet, another reason I want to go find a scientist or doctor, the CDC, something. I’m immune, I have to be. I never even got a sniffle. These questions, none of us can answer. Look at you.”

“I was in a pile of bodies. I think … I think I had it.”

Dodge tilted is head. “Why do you say that?”

“When I was out of it, unconscious, I woke up a few times to hear voices. One time, they were saying I had the flu. The next thing I know I woke up in a pile of bodies. The IV in my hand I can explain, but I can’t explain why they thought I was dead. I mean... I didn’t die obviously and neither did he.”

Dodge turned his head and looked at the child in the living room.

“Dodge, I think he had the flu. I think he beat it somehow, someway, like me. Like maybe we had some sort of minuscule immunity that allowed us to recover.”

“His nose had so much dried mucus.” Dodge said. “I had to soak it to get it off.”

“And what killed people? Do you know?”

“The fever. But if that didn’t do it, people drowned in their own mucus. See early on, the fever didn’t kill people because the hospitals were giving fever reducers. And the congestion was treated. But all that did was prolong it.”

“I read about that.”

“You’re trying to find a connection,” Dodge said.

“I am. It’ll drive me nuts.”

“Faye, we may never find a connection.”

“Yeah, I already did. Whatever happened to me, happened to him. Something occurred
, maybe we passed out, and our breathing slowed down so much that the fluid couldn’t take a hold of our lungs completely. I don’t know, I’m guessing here.”

“Back in the old days, before they had the equipment to check for vital signs, people were mistaken for dead because their vital signs slowed down so much. This flu could have kept you in that coma, and when they did a visual
check of you just thought you were dead. Him …”

“What if it put him in a coma or some sort of deep sleep and he beat it?”

Dodge slowly lifted from his lean into me and sat back in the chair. He was thinking, I saw it on his face.

“It’s scary, because if they thought I was dead, and they thought he was dead, how many others fell to that as well?”

“At least one more.” Dodge stood up.

“Dodge what do you mean?”

“Think about it, Faye. I didn’t at first. But I am now. The drink boxes, the phones, all those cell phones. He’s like four years old. How did he know to grab a phone for light, or why grab those phones? He couldn’t have carried them all.”

“You think he wasn’t alone?” I asked with enthusiasm.

“I’m betting he wasn’t.”

“Where was this person?”

“Maybe getting more supplies. We never bothered to call out or look.” With a rush, Dodge went into the living room. “Hey Bud,” He crouched down by the boy. “Hey.” He tapped his arm. “I have to ask you something.”

The child looked at him.

“When we found you. Were you by yourself?”

He only stared at Dodge.

“He doesn’t understand, Dodge.”

“Was someone with you?” Dodge pressed. “Someone who got the phones?”

After a paused, the child nodded.

I gasped at first, then watched the boy. Did he really know what Dodge was saying?

“A big person. Little person?”

He nodded again.

“Big?”

The boy shook his head.

“Another kid?”

Slowly, the child nodded, and without hesitation, Dodge headed to the door.

“Dodge.”

“I have to go.”

“Dodge, I don’t know,” I said, looking at the child who resumed eating and watching nothing on television. “He’s confused. He’s in shock. I don’t think someone was with him.”

“And I think it doesn’t hurt to look. It does however, stand a chance to hurt someone if we don’t.”

He was right, I was humbled. It didn’t matter that I believed the child spoke through confusion and just gave an answer that he believed Dodge wanted to hear. We owed it to ourselves and the child to look.

However, I stopped Dodge, and asked him to wait. I grabbed the box of cereal and the little boy.

“What are you doing Faye?” he asked.

“We’re coming with you.”

“Do you think it’s a good idea to take him back there?”

“We won’t take him in. But I do think, if we’re going to search, two sets of eyes are better than one.”

Whether Dodge didn’t have an argument to what I said or he just plain didn’t want to argue, I don’t know. He exhaled, gave a look and walked out.

With the boy’s hand in mine,
and a box of cereal, we followed him to the car.

More than anything I hoped that Dodge was right, but I also believed we were chasing nothing more than a frazzled boy’s word and a grown man’s wish to find more people.