Last Woman (11 page)

The look on Dodge’s face said it all. He was scared and determined. His driving was fast and I had to ask him to slow down. We were looking to see if there was someone else, speeding would inhibit that. Plus, as ridiculous as it sounded to slow down, you just never knew if someone or something would wander on the road. Since finding the boy we had to assume there was some likelihood that others were alive. Although, I felt they may be like pollen. Scattered far and wide and unable to be seen.

Dodge must have been a people person. Human contact had to play a huge part of his existence, defining him, because he seemed more focused on looking for other survivors than a way to just survive. As if finding people were some sort of validation that the world had not ended. Obviously it
hadn’t. I was there, the child was there.

But Dodge needed more.

We took the same route as previously, back roads through neighborhoods only this time, the boy hit his fist against the back window.

“Dodge, slow down.”

He heard it too because his eyes glanced to the rearview mirror. “What is it Bud?”

The
n he spoke the first word ever. After hitting the window once, he looked at us both and smiled. “Home.”

“Is that your street?” Dodge asked.

“Yes.”

I actually breathed out with excitement. He spoke.

“We’ll go there next. Okay?” Dodge said. “Sit back.”

The boy did.

When Dodge began to drive again, I looked at him and whispered. “You can’t take him back there. He wants to go home.”

“He probably had toys and things there. …”

“It’ll be torture for him Dodge, you can’t take him there.”

He huffed, looked in the mirror again and kept driving.

I took a moment to glance back, the child seemed happier. How easily that would shatter if we did take him to his house and no one was there. He was young, but somehow, knowing my own children at that age, and my daughter wasn’t much older when she passed away, the boy had to know something. He had to have some sort of understanding. He was still in a state of fear and shock, hence why he wasn’t talking. He was too old not to talk.

We hit the Walmart parking lot, and Dodge parked nearer to the back and closer to the home store. He grabbed the big flashlight and opened the door.

“Gonna run in there, I’ll be back.” He told us and closed the door.

I sensed tension from the boy in the back, and when I turned in my seat, he appeared nervous. “It’s okay, sweetie. Really it is.”

He didn’t say anything, undid his belt and climbed up front with me, sitting on my lap.

“Hey,” I stroked his hair. “Since I got to hear that pretty voice of yours, do you know your name?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, good, what is it?”

He didn’t answer me. I didn’t want to press, he had spoken finally, and that was already half the battle.

“Are you hungry?” I questioned.

“No.”

“How old are you?”

He held up his hand then used his other hand to hold down his thumb.

“You’re four. Wow. That’s a good age.”

From my lap he leaned forward and started pressing buttons. I figured it didn’t matter. He pressed the hazard lights and the clicking of them started. I laughed. He inched more to the edge of my leg to play with the radio. He pushed the knob in and it lit up.

“You know the radio don’t you?”

He started to push the presets. One. Two. Three. …

“Not finding anything there. No music. Want me to sing?”

He giggled.

“Oh, I got a smile and a laugh.”

His tiny hand reached for the knob. He was petite, had his face not looked mature, by his body size I would have guessed him to be about three.

He wasn’t skinny, just petite.

The boy fiddled with the knob turning it and laughing at the static.

“Have news for you. That’s your new music.
The whole world has gone silent until we find these things called CDs. Yeah … they are round shiny things that people gave up to opt for digital. Mistake huh?”

He continued to play.

“Bet me Dodge has a ton of CDs, no wait, I bet he still has his grandfather’s eight tracks. He seems like the type of guy who thinks it will come back.”

Static.

“Honey, let me turn that down.” I reached for him as he turned left and right.

Crackle. Static.

“On the Emergency Frequency … static … Broadcasting.”

Immediately and instinctively I clutched his wrist and stopped his fiddling. My heart dropped. A voice.
It was a male voice, lacking emotions, steady and factual, yet real, not a computer.

A little boy in his child curiosity had discovered what Dodge was looking for. People.

“Oh my God,
" were the first words I spoke.

“Man. It’s a man.” The boy said.

“I know. Shh.” I turned up the radio. It wasn’t a clear signal, the broadcast reminded me of when we’d take rides through the mountain and the signal would cut in and out.

“Continue. Top of the hour. Once you hit… take … Road...” the voice paused. “Operating on FEMA frequency, broadcasting from Ro…. Again this is Hashman. Call number Alpha Zulu Foxtrot Seven Four Three. Looking for survivors. Out.”

Silence.

The car door swung open, and it was sudden and unexpected, I was snatched from my radio watching world and I screamed. I really screamed and so did the boy.

“What the hell?” Dodge asked. “What’s wrong?”

I brought my hand to my chest. “You scared us.”

“How did you not see me coming out of the store?”

“We weren’t watching … Dodge. Dodge he was playing with the radio.”

“That’s nice.” Dodge brought a bottle of water to his lips and took a drink. “I’m gonna hit the store …”

“Dodge, we heard a broadcast.”

He shouldn’t have taken a sip or probably, I should have waited until he swallowed because, Dodge coughed in his shock and water splattered on the boy.

He giggled.

“You got a what?”

“Somebody, using a radio or something,” I said. “They were broadcasting. Like they
were reading something.”

“Was it a real voice or maybe a programmed one?”

“Real. A man. But it was breaking up.”

“If he’s operating on a HAM, we may hear better at night.” Dodge slid in and played with the radio, turning the knob only pulling silence. “What did he say?’

“Like I said it broke up a lot. He was operating on some FEMA frequency.”

“Probably tapped into the
FEMA tower or is close to one.”

“He was looking for survivors. He then gave directions but it wasn’t clear.”

Doge looked over at me. “There are more people.”

“At least one called Hashman something, something. He’ll be back at the top of the hour.”

Dodge pulled his hand from the radio. “Then we’ll check back then and keep checking back. Do you remember what station?”

“Well, you played with knob, it was on there, but you turned the knob and I didn’t look.”

“Damn it.” He hit his hand on the steering wheel. “Why didn’t you say don’t touch the knob?”

“Dodge, don’t swear.”

“Dodge don’t swear?” He shook his head. “Really.”

“Yes, Dodge really.” I nodded down to the boy.

“Civilization ended in case you didn’t get the memo.”

“No it didn’t end.” I covered the child’s ears. “Just because everyone died, it doesn’t mean we have to lose all…”

“Faye.” He cut me off. “Please.”

I gasped. “What is wrong with you?”

“I’m … I’m sorry. I’m frustrated and I’m going back in there.”

“What did you find?”

“No one was there. But the crackers were gone.”

“Dodge? The crackers were gone? What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said. The crackers were gone. The ones he was eating, the package was gone.”

“Are you sure.”

Dodge slowly looked at me and spoke eerily calm. “Why do you do that?”

“
I
think you’re looking for a positive.”

“Damn it.”

“Dodge.”

“Someone was there.” He slid back from the car. “And why aren’t they coming out.”

“You’re taking the word of a child.”

“I didn’t see the crackers.”

“Maybe we kicked them.”

“And … maybe … someone took them.” Surprising me, he reached in and honked the horn.

I cringed. “Dodge.

“Loud.” The boy covered his ear.

“Just ignore him.”

Standing outside the car and reaching in, Dodge blasted the horn again for a few seconds.

“Dodge stop.”

Dodge ignore me and he then hollered across the empty parking lot. His voice sounding bigger than he was. “Anyone here! I know you are here!”

The boy cowered some.

“Dodge
!”

Again he reached in
and beeped for three seconds, then yelled. “Hello! Is anyone here! Anyone alive!” Another beep.

“Dodge!”

I was ignored. I urged the boy to get back in the back seat and to cover his ears. Obviously, Dodge was frustrated and felt as if he were failing, but what he was really failing at was seeing how frightened he was making the child.

“Dodge you’re scaring the boy.”

“Faye I know someone is here.” He honked again, then yelled.

If I couldn’t get him to stop yelling,
the least I could do was get him to stop honking and scaring the child.

I had to wonder if Dodge was having a mental breakdown. I stepped from the car, walked around and slammed his door before he could reach in again.

“Anyone out here!” He cried out.

“Dodge. Please.”

“Faye, I know it, I feel it.” He faced me. “Someone is here.”

“Okay, I believe you but please stop scaring …”

Then it happened. Another voice entered our existence. It echoed to us, bouncing against the buildings, it was hard to pinpoint a direction. We did know one thing. The voice was young and male.

“You took him!”

We both stopped.

“You took him from me! You took my brother!”

The same way, at the same time, both Dodge and I turned to look toward the Home Store building.

“You took my brother!”

From across the Home Store lot, a small figure ran full speed our way.

“I want my brother. You took my brother. You took him!” The young boy, tall, thin, and maybe nine years old, screamed hysterically. He ran our way. “You took my brother!” And then, fifteen feet from where we stood, stunned, the boy stopped and dropped to the parking lot and to his knees. His
head lowered, arms dropped and he looked as if he just emotionally drowned in that moment. “You took my brother,” he sobbed. “But you didn’t take me,” His bursts of sadness carried to us as his shoulders bounced. “You didn’t take me.”

For as much as Dodge and I seemed to be a mismatch, one thing we both had in common, the gut instinct to be a parent.

That little boy sobbing in the middle of a barren parking lot was a magnet pulling to me.

After I was able to absorb, breathe and move, I took a step to him at the same time as Dodge. But the front door of the car opened and before we could reach the child sat in the parking lot, the boy blasted between me and Dodge and ran to him.

It was a powerful moment. So much so,
that I heard an emotional groan come from Dodge.

The younger boy blasting to the older one and their arms wrapping so hard around each other, the emotional embrace so tight that they rolled to the pavement.

They were indeed brothers. Only brothers would be like that.

The older boy held on to his younger sibling tightly, screaming and crying in joy.

“Darie,” he said. “I thought they stole you from me. Darie. I thought I’d never see you again.” The embrace was more than gratefulness, it was a need, and it was a bond. As much as air, food and water, that older child needed his little brother.

Dodge lowered his head and brought this fingers to the corner of his eyes.

I was beyond humbled. Dodge was right, his gut instinct was absolutely right. He knew it and felt it and I didn’t. Making my way to him, I waited until I had his attention. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” he asked.

“Because I doubted you again.”

“It’s alright, really. More than anything,” He said then sniffled. “I’m glad you were wrong.”

I looked to the brothers still embracing and joyful. “Me, too.”

<><><><>

I knew the second the reunion calmed down, that we weren’t leaving that lot. Not yet.

Both boys walked to us, holding hands, and before I
could say it, Dodge did,

“I’m sorry,” Dodge told the older child. “I really am. If we knew you were here, we would have found you. Are you okay?”

“I am now that I have my brother,” he replied. “He’s all clean and don’t smell.”

Dodge smiled.

The boy wasn’t from around the area. It was evident in his dialect, his southern way of speaking. He really wasn’t older than nine. Maybe even eight. His face young, but unlike the younger child, whom he called ‘Darie’, he wasn’t dirty or pale.

I asked. “What’s your name?”

“George,” he replied. “My brother is Darren. We call him Darie.”

I reached out to him. “Well I am …”

“Faye,” said Darie and then he pointed to Dodge. “Dodd.”

“Well I’m …” Dodge was going to correct. “Dodd works. George?”

“Yes.”

“Kind of a grown up name.”

“You ain’t gonna make fun of my name like the kids in school, are you? You look like a bully and you took my brother.”

Dodge huffed. “I’m not a bully. And your brother was alone and scared.”

“I was going to get more food and water. I came back. You were getting in the car,” George said. “I chased you, I screamed for you to stop, but you kept on driving. You kept on going.”

Dodge closed his eyes and lowered his head. “I’m sorry. That had to be really scary.”

“I ran after you. But I lost you. I only came back, 'cause I thought Darie would tell you about me.”

I crouched down to be at George’s level. “He hasn’t spoken, but Dodge came back because he realized that your brother wasn’t alone.”

“I wouldn’t leave my brother, I searched too hard for him.”

“And I …. Would have never, ever left you,” Dodge said. “I swear. Is there anyone else around here? Anyone?”

George shook his head. “No, I looked.”

“Your brother pointed to a street. Said it was home,” Dodge said.

George leaned away from Darie. “We can’t go there. No one’s there.”

I stood. “And no one is around here?”

“Listen guy,” Dodge laid his hand on George’s shoulder. “I know you’ve been a great big brother and taking care of Darie. But you know what; can you let us take care of you? We’d feel a lot better if you come with us.”

“You got food?” he asked.

“Yes we do.” Dodge replied.

“Anything hot?”

Darie answered that one. “Soup.”

“Well then, come on Darie.” He grabbed his little brother’s hand and opened the back door of the car. “Since they fed you soup and gave you a bath, got all that gross stuff off of you, they can’t be all that bad.”

Dodge waited until the brothers were inside and he closed the back car door. “We aren’t that bad.”

“No we’re not.”

“Yet, you just got another focus, Faye. A pretty good one, I’d say.”

“Yeah, I did.” I walked around to my side of the car and got inside. George was buckling in
next to his brother. I anxiously awaited getting them back to my house, getting George fed and hearing what he had to say. He mentioned he searched hard for Darie. What did that mean? George was another side of a story, a different side. I was full of questions, but I didn’t want to ask until he showed the signs that he wanted to talk and tell his story.

Right then, he was enjoying his brother.

The second trip to Walmart was an eventful one and full of surprises, all good. Not only did we hear the radio call, we found another survivor, another child.

In a world so dark and dismal, reeking of death, we were able to get a good solid aroma of hope.