Last Woman (7 page)

“What are these?” He asked.

“At the military setup, they kept those. I suppose they were gonna keep track and then it got ahead of them.”

He rummaged through some more and found the other stacks. “You kept them all? Don’t you think that’s kinda sick?”

“No. Not at all.” I grabbed the stacks from him. They were mine and I felt a sense of being insulted, that he was touching something personal and doing so without respect. “They are a reminder to me. I always want to remember… those bodies out there, the ones we see everywhere, were more than corpses, they were people with names and lives and families. And these pictures, these faces, do just that. The least I can do in this screwed up empty world…” I held up a stack. “Is acknowledge these people as more than just bodies.”

Dodge closed his mouth tightly, gave a single nod and held out his hand.

“What?” I asked.

“Give me a stack.”

“Why?”

“’Cause I think you got a good heart and the right idea, and I want to honor them as well. Soldiers in a battle.”

I handed him a stack. “That we lost.”

“Nah, we ain’t lost yet. You and me are still around.” He undid the rubber band and slowly lifted and stared, really stared with conviction at the first license. “We ain’t lost yet.”

It was the first time in days I didn’t have a headache. I didn’t wake up to daggers in my eyes or a mouth so dry, my throat hurt. I did wake up to two sensations. One was the overwhelming urge to urinate the other was the smell of coffee.

I welcomed the aching bladder, because that meant I was hydrating. Prior to that, I was going nearly all day without attending to the needs of my urinary tract.

I wanted to address why I was smelling coffee so strong, but I had to shuffle off and when I returned, Dodge had poured me a cup. He handed me some expensive coffee shop mug with the piping hot brew.

“Oh my God, how did you make coffee?” I asked. I took in the warm aroma, allowing the steam to touch my nostrils then I sipped it.

“Found a coffee shop, some things people didn’t take,” Dodge said. “Like a French press. Makes it easy. I love my coffee.”

“Me, too.”

“The way you nursed that bottle last night, I’m gonna say you love your booze.”

“That, too.”

“I’m sorry.” He said. “That was wrong.”

“No, it wasn’t. This is good.” I made reference to the coffee.

“Eat up. We have a long day.” He handed me a paper plate with a pancake on it. “Sorry there’s no syrup. Best I can do, but that ought to buckle you down. You look much better.”

“I feel better.” I examined the pancake in wonder. “How are you doing this?”

“1999 Jeep Cherokee over there had camping stuff. Guess they were headed to the hills. Check it out.” He pulled out a back pack. “In case we have no shelter. Small tent
and a sleeping roll. I’ll carry it. However, I have other plans.”

“I bet you do.”

“Anyhow, everything is easy when you have a fire. Pancakes are easy when you have water and a bottle of that mix.” He lifted his pancake, folded it and took a bite.

“Did you go camping a lot?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“How long have you been up?” I asked.

“Long enough to discover good news.”

I was just about to take that first bite of the pancake and I paused. “What’s the good news?”

He produced half a smile. “We have to back track a mile, head down to the other expressway, but … Steel Miner Bridge is accessible.”

“No, it’s not, we looked down there yesterday.”

“Yeah, well, it isn’t collapsed; it’s just a barricade, and a couple car fires. From what I could see we can get through. Have to do some small climbing, but I think once we’re across the bridge we’re gonna see less traffic and less remnants of pandemonium.”

“Why do you say that?” I questioned.

“Because the city was shut down. Not the other parts, just the city. I don’t know why, because everywhere had the flu. But you lock people in they get nuts, feel trapped, and that’s what happened.”

“So we’ll make it across the river today?” I asked.

“Yeah, I believe so. But we’ll take it slow, take it easy and if you feel it’s too much, we’ll stop.”

“Okay,” I nodded. “But honestly, I can do this. If you weren’t here, I’d have no choice, right?” I knew he agreed and I also knew his mind was churning. I finally took a second to dive into that pancake he made. It was sweet and delicious. So much better than the MRE’s I had been eating.

While I rested the evening before Dodge had scavenged cars, and while I slept he was making plans. When I started my journey, I had one focus goal left and that was to make it home. That was still my goal, but something told me, Dodge had been making other plans.

I couldn’t see life beyond that pancake and crossing that bridge. Dodge did.

For as content as I was to spend my time alone before the flu, at that moment, in a desolate world, I was glad that I had found Dodge.

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Belly full, but not enough to bog me down, rejuvenated with some caffeine, and finally rested, I was ready to go.

At the rate we were going, we’d have to find transportation with all the things we
’d gathered. Dodge with his hiker backpack, toting the new and improved suitcase on wheels. I had my ration bag full for us when needed and it draped over my shoulder.

The conversation was technical between us to the bridge. Although, Dodge did start to go on about the ‘next move’ after I stopped at my house. He tossed ideas, asking after every few, what I thought.

I didn’t engage much in the conversation, because I truthfully didn’t know what I wanted or was going to do after I made it to my house. I didn’t think beyond that, I didn’t think long term. Did we honestly need to?

I liked when he talked about his son. Tyler was his name, he was something like eight hundred miles south at a school for art. I was cautious not to say anything that may build up Dodge’s hopes, because as a mother, the last thing I’d want is to start looking positively at a situation only to be crushed. And no matter how prepared one is, you are crushed by the loss of a child.

Dodge took an avoidance road with Tyler. Even though the last he spoke to his son, the nineteen year old wasn’t even sick. I wanted to say, ‘Oh, Dodge, you have to find him. You have to look.’ But I didn’t. It had to be his decision to go, and I hoped he did.

Cars were squeezed in like sardines at the base of the bridge. A barricade was set up about twenty feet before the ramp. That of course, was destroyed, we saw that. However, what I didn’t see, and Dodge did, upon further investigation was that cars had plummeted to the road below. Piling on top of each other and the weight of the major traffic jam on the road side gave in, causing more traffic to topple. This cluster of a mess became a viable path to walk.

Walk over the tops of the cars. All well and fine, but not to get up to the bridge.

“We got this.” Dodge said.

“Oh, yeah, we got this.” I said sarcastically and peered across what had become a mere grave yard of banged up, piled up cars. I had to lower myself down to about a six foot slope to the top of a black SUV, maneuver across the cars where the ramp used to be, then magically, somehow get on the bridge.
Oh, yeah, I had this. Right.

Dodge left the suitcase and backpack with me, lowered down with ease, then reached up. “Hand me the suitcase first.”

Fearful, that it would clunk him unconscious; I slowly lowered the bag as far as I could. I felt him grab it, and then I did the same with the backpack.

“The rations bag.” He held up his hand. “Toss it down.”

“You’re not planning on leaving me at this point, are you?”

“What?” He lauded. “No
! Would I make you coffee and pancakes? I’d have left before you woke up. Rations.”

I dropped the small sack.

“Now you. Belly down so you can see where you’re coming from and trust me that I got you.”

“I’d rather see where I am going.”

“Yes, well, I bet you do. But looking down, you are gonna slip. It’s easier to glide feet down to me.”

“My feet will be to you.”

“I mean, with your back side up.”

“I can do this. Didn’t you say we got this?”

Dodge stepped back a foot and held out his hand. “Be my guest.”

Really, how hard and tricky was it. He barreled down in a good couple steps, yeah the slope was steep but it was really only about six feet.

Six feet of concrete, to an unprepared person, was slippery. I made if half way, three steps and I slipped. My feet went from under me and while I made a half assed attempt to catch myself and my pride nonetheless, I still managed to tumble in a part roll, my right arm, running against the concrete.

Dodge reached up to grab me, but it was too late. He did secure me and help me the rest of the way down. “You okay?”

Like a child, I peeped out a ‘no’, that all too familiar stinging of a brush burn. The skin was torn and then with the slight delayed reaction, it started to bleed.

“That will hurt,” Dodge said, lifted the ration bag, and pulled out some water. “Does it feel broke?”

Again, another peep. “No.”

“You’re bleeding.” Dodge grabbed my arm.

I winced and pulled back. “Stop. Stop. That hurts.”

“Oh, you stop.” He uncapped the bottle with his teeth and slowly poured water over my wou
nd. “Shake it off.”

“Shake it off?” I asked.

“Shake it off. I told you not to climb down that way, didn’t I? You probably got hurt a lot worse when you were a kid and fell of your bike.”

“I wasn’t allowed to ride a bike.”

“You didn’t ride a bike?”

I shook my head. “My mother wouldn’t let me she said I would get hurt.”

He nodded. “I can see why she would think that.”

“Dodge.”

“Don’t whine. Stay here. Don’t move.”

“Why?”

“Just … stay here.”

I didn’t move from my position on top of that black SUV. Dodge carried the suitcase and backpack across the cars and closer to the bridge. Then returned.

“Not that I don’t think you can do it, but I can’t have you getting hurt.”

“Are you always going to be like this?”

“No,” he said. “Because
you
won’t always be like this. Right now, you’re still recovering. You aren’t a hundred percent. Maybe you are and I’m just wrong.”

“You’re not wrong. I’m usually much stronger.”

“Then good. I’d like to see that without you breaking a bone first.” He held out his arm for me to latch onto for support.

I hated it. I absolutely hated the fact that he looked at me as weak. And I also hated the fact that I fell, looked sick, acted sick.

I actually debated on not taking his arm and doing it myself, but I saw how well that went.

Walking across the cars wasn’t as easy as it looked. The roofs weren’t strong, and twice the windows shattered just with the simple touch of my foot.

We made it across and Dodge, with the ration bag around his neck, climbed up to the bridge. He placed his chest flush with the ground and extended down his arm. “Hand me the suitcase first. Heaviest item out of the way.”

It was heavy. Before I lifted it, I made sure the handle was all the way out, and I was only able to raise the suitcase mid chest. Dodge grabbed it.

I knew his request for the backpack was next. It was on its side and as I reached for it, I passed the flipped up mirror of a car and in doing so, caught a glimpse of my reflection.

Frozen. I was absolutely frozen in a stare of myself.

Was it me? My fingers reached up to my face. I barely recognized my own reflection. No wonder Dodge looked at me the way he did. I was shocked he hadn’t tried to find a wheelchair. All I could think was how Dodge said earlier I looked much better. If I looked ‘better’, how bad did I look before that? Was that possible? My face had never been so white. If it was possible, I’d say it had surpassed being pale. I didn’t just have dark circles
under
my eyes; they surrounded my eyes, like a raccoon. My lips? Aside from the sores, that I knew I had, they were near colorless.

With my straggly hair, even though I had washed it, I looked like a walking corpse.
“Hey.” Dodge whistled. “You gonna hand me that backpack?”

My head cocked in shock, I nodded and reached for the backpack then lifting it up enough for Dodge to grab it.

A few moments later, Dodge edged his way down and pulled me over to the highest car. The edge of the bridge was still above my head.

“Alright, here’s how it’s going to go. Raise your arms.” He said.

I did.

“See, you’re only about four inches short of touching that ledge. So … I want you to step on my knee, reach up, and I’ll hoist you. Get a grip, you’ll have to pull a lot of your own weight, okay?”

I nodded.

“Once I see you have the ledge, I’m going to try to push you up there, so be ready. Please don’t fall.”

“I promise.” I took a deep breath, when I stepped on his bent leg; I was already seeing the ledge. I reached up and Dodge lifted me. With his leverage, I grabbed hold of the concrete and pulled. I was fighting and struggling to do what was a glorified chin up. Just as I was about to give up, I’d love to say I found my inner fortitude, but the truth was, Dodge, gave a good hoist.

Once my chest hit that bridge, he maneuvered his hands down my legs and lifted me enough that I was able to get the rest of the way onto the bridge.

As if it would help or matter, I held down my hand.

Dodge just smiled, climbed up … then grabbed my hand.

“Good job.” He shook my hand. “What’s wrong?”

“Why didn’t you tell me how bad I looked?”

“I told you that you didn’t look well.”

“It’s beyond that. I saw my reflection.”

“Faye.”

“Yeah?”

He stared at me and said seriously, “Now’s not the time for vanity.”

I couldn’t help it. I actually laughed. I … laughed. For the first time, really, it wasn’t fake, it wasn’t forced, it was genuine. I told him he was right, and turned. It was breathtaking, the empty bridge.