Last Detour

by Renata Martin

  "Maybe we should go to the motel?" Michael lingered in the doorway. "Or a police station."

  "Hang on." She crouched under the bar, bumping her head in the process, and scanned the area with the dim light of her cellphone. The fridge was turned off, but still cool to the touch. As she picked up some bottles, the clinking glass broke the silence.

  "What are you doing?"

  "Just a second." She stashed three bottles of wine in her bag and made sure to duck down further as she made her way under the bar.

  ***

  There were no spare parking spaces in the motel parking lot, so Michael stopped the car right outside the office, mounting the curb. Again, the door was open and all that greeted them was darkness. With Michael providing the light, she rifled through the papers on the table, hoping for some clue. The computer was off and nothing happened when she pressed the main switch. A metallic jangle behind her made her heart skip a beat until she realised it was just the breeze wafting through the open door and disturbing the keys on the pegs behind it. She pulled open a drawer, not even sure what she was looking for anymore and hand wrapped around a heavy cylindrical object.

  "Thank god." She pulled out a torch and turned it on.

  Michael put his arm in front of his face as she accidentally shone it in his eyes. "Watch it."

  "So I'm in room 23. You fancy some wine?"

  "Sure, sounds good."

  "Why don't you get the keys for the room next to mine?"

  "I don't think that's a good idea."

  "Wow. For someone that's rejected society and gone to live in a cabin in the woods, you are such a conformist."

  "I didn't reject society. Society rejected me."

  ***

  Their feet clunked against the metal stairs as they made their way up to the second level, and Olivia rifled through her belongings for the door key. "I literally had them a second ago." She huffed. "It's okay, they're here." She struggled to get the key in the lock, taking several stabs at it.

  The room smelt of stale cigarette smoke, although it was not a smoking room, and there were two beds and a large, boxy television.

  "Our home for the night." Olivia placed her bag on the bed closest to the window and set the torch down on the bedside table so it cast a circle of light on the ceiling.

  "Do you mind if I have a shower?" Michael asked, as he took a handful of clothes from his rucksack.

  "If it works, sure." She took two cups from the coffee set and poured herself a mug of wine and sat on the bed.

  "I don't suppose you have a razor I could use? My beard is driving me nuts. Whenever I try to eat something, it gets everywhere."

  "Sure, if you don't mind using a razor I shaved my legs with."

  "I can live with that." He took the torch and Olivia's disposable razor and disappeared into the bathroom.

  "Okay, this is freezing." His voice went up a couple of octaves, and she couldn't help but laugh.

  "It's not funny. Don't think I can't hear you through the door."

  Smiling, she took another sip of wine. It was a bit dry for her taste, but she wasn't in the fussy mood. The pillow enveloped her head as she sank into the mattress and listened to the sound of the running water.

  He came out of the bathroom fresh-faced, in a new t-shirt and a pair of khaki shorts, rubbing his hair with a towel. "Olivia. Could I ask another favor?"

  "What?" It came out more abrupt than she had intended.

  "Can you cut hair? It just really needs a good cut. It's been getting on my nerves."

  "Oh. Yeah. I mean I'm not very good, but I'll give it a go if you want." She walked over to her luggage and pulled out her make-up bag. "These are all I have." She presented him with a pair of nail scissors.

  "That will be fine." He pulled a chair into the bathroom in front of the mirror while Olivia grabbed the torch. She stepped up behind him and glimpsed herself in the mirror. The marks around her neck were unmistakable, and she felt a twinge of some emotion she couldn't quite put her finger on. If only she had a turtle-neck, she could cover it up and pretend she was normal for a while.

  "Are you okay?" Michael looked concerned.

  "Oh. Sorry. I'm just a bit out of it." She got straight to work and picked up a section of his damp hair and held it between two of her fingers and held the scissors at an angle like she had seen her hair dresser do. It felt awkward at first, but after the first few sections she got into the swing of it.

  "You seem like a natural?"

  "Thanks." As she cut the last section, the curly strands tumbled into the sink. "Your all done." She ran her fingers through his hair to bring it all together and looked into the mirror to check if she had missed any bits from the front. His eyes were dark and intense in the torchlight, and she lingered on them for longer than she felt comfortable.

  "I might go to bed, I'm knackered." As she turned towards the door, the sound of retching stopped her in her tracks. "Michael." She turned back in time to witness him vomiting into the sink. "Oh god." She wondered what the protocol was in this situation. If it was herself, she would rather be left alone. Being sick was the ultimate vulnerability, and she hated being vulnerable. Besides, it was just gross, no one needed to see that.

  "Anything I can do, or should I just go?"

  "Please, just go."

  Olivia didn't need to be told twice and passed out within minutes of getting in bed.

  ***

  Light streamed through the gap in the curtains and roused Olivia from sleep. It took a good minute for her to figure out where she was in her daze. The room was silent and the bed next to her empty.

  "Michael?" She lumbered out of bed and shuffled to the bathroom door.

  "You alive in there?"

  No answer.

  "Okay, I'm coming in."

  He was curled up on the tiled floor, shaking.

  "Shit. Michael." She knelt down beside him. The movement stirred Michael and he let out a moan that reminded her of the noises she would make after being roused from sleep during a particularly bad hangover.

  "You scared me."

  "I don't feel right. I haven't stopped being sick."

  "Shit. Okay." She scrambled for her phone. Still no signal. She pressed 911 but got nothing. "Where is the nearest hospital? I'll drive us." After helping him up, she collected their things. He was shockingly pale, but she said nothing as there was no need to worry him anymore than necessary.

  The stairs were a challenge, but she managed to get him in the car and he slumped his head up against the window. She started the car, did up her seatbelt, and sped in the direction of the hospital. There was something so surreal about being the only moving car on the road. Unfortunately, she could only drive so fast while dodging the other cars that littered the road. It was as if everyone just upped and vanished.

  "Hold on in there. Not far now."

  TRAUMA

  The hospital dominated the skyline with hard, grey lines. It wouldn't have mattered if it was painted it with rainbows and they gave out free puppies at the door, hospitals would always be depressing. Olivia pulled right up to the entrance with a screech and parked diagonally across the ambulance bay. She figured no one would mind, as it was as devoid of humanity as the rest of the city.

  "We're here." She said putting on her best positive voice. The one she had to muster for work in the mornings. "If only parking was always this easy, huh?" She looked across at him to see a look of concentration she recognised. The one that she would wear when trying to focus on not being sick in a taxi-cab after one too many at the pub.

  "Right, come on. You got this." She helped him out of the car, supporting most of his weight, and dropped him in a wheelchair that had been abandoned just outside the doors. Whilst she took a moment to catch her breath, she wondered who the chair may have belonged to, as she noticed an overnight bag on the floor next to it.

  Inside the hospital, it was still, as if she was looking at a photograph. A moment captured in time, just with no people. She
couldn't decide if it was eerie or serene. Maybe it was a little of both.

  No nurses. No doctors. No beeping and buzzing of machines. Rows of waiting room seats unoccupied. Abandoned, unfilled gurneys. The only sounds that travelled up and down the halls were the gliding of Michael's wheelchair and the echoes of their footsteps. As she pushed him down the lonely passageway, she glanced in each room, but there was nothing of interest. All the machines and equipment were useless without someone who knew how to use them.

  She stopped in the middle of the corridor. "Michael, I don't know what to do."

  "I don't know. I feel a little better."

  "Well, you haven't been sick since you got in the car, so that's a good sign. You even look better, you have some color now. Maybe you should eat something. Hang on." Olivia walked over to a vending machine and wrangled her hand in, trying to nab something from the bottom shelf.

  "You should probably eat something." She presented him with a bag of potato chips. "I know I'm starving."

  "You go ahead. I'm not quite there yet."

  "What about your parents? Shall we see if they're still in the city?"

  "Nah, they wouldn't want to see me."

  "Why, what did you do?"

  "Oh you know, the usual. I'm just a massive disappointment."

  "Sorry. That sucks." She tried to gauge whether he wanted her to push the subject and decided against it. Not that she would have any great gems of wisdom. Her parents were perfect, yet she still somehow managed to find fault with them. "Any idea what's actually wrong with you?"

  A high-pitched cry ripped them from their conversation.

  "There's someone else!" Olivia sprung into action and ran towards the source of the noise. Michael ditched the chair and followed closely behind her.

  "Hello?" Olivia called.

  "I'm here. Help me! Please!" The female voice was close now. The room at the end.

  A woman with puffy, bloodshot eyes sat on the bed with tubes coming out of her. "No one is here. I called out for hours, but no one came," she sobbed.

  "We're here now."

  "Do you work here?"

  "Do we look like we work here?" She tried to joke, but realized she just sounded rude. Oh well. Too late to take it back now.

  "I guess not." The girl wiped back the blond wavy hair that stuck to her forehead with sweat. "Where have they all gone?" She wiped her red, tear-stained cheeks.

  "Um, this is going to be hard to take in, but apart from each other we haven't seen anyone since yesterday morning."

  "I couldn't leave the bed. I'm still connected to this stuff." She gestured to the tubes coming out of her arm."

  "You're going to have to take them out. There is literally no one here but us."

  "But, I don't know how."

  "What is wrong with you anyway?"

  "It's bad." The woman looked down at her hands.

  "Like cancer bad, or?" Olivia felt Michael nudge her and assumed it was for her lack of tact.

  "I took an overdose." Tears started to collect in the corners of her eyes.

  "Oh." Olivia went quiet.

  "It was an overdose of Sodium Nitrite." She kept her eyes firmly down and picked at the skin around her nails.

  "Sorry, I don't really know what that is. How do you feel, you know, except for the obvious?"

  "Strangely, I don't actually feel that bad. Just a bit of a headache."

  Michael leaned towards Olivia and whispered. "I'm sorry I never told you this, but before I found you, I'd taken an overdose too. I swallowed a whole load of pills, drank a whole bottle of bourbon. I took anything I could get me hands on and just woke up in the woods. When I woke up, I could hear you struggling. That can't be a coincidence."

  "What is he talking about?" The girl looked worried.

  Disjointed thoughts whirred around Olivia's brain like a faulty, old computer processor, as she tried to take it all in. "We all tried to kill ourselves. Every one has disappeared. Every one but us."

  "This is a joke, right?" The woman looked dazed.

  "I wish it was." Olivia didn't know what to do with this information. "What is your name anyway?"

  "Dana." She squirmed on the bed. "I really need to get out of here. I need to see my mom."

  "Okay. We just need to get those nasty tubes out of you," said Michael. "I had some surgeries after an accident. The cannula is no problem, but the catheter can be a bit of a pain."

  Olivia had to turn away. She could watch gore of all kinds, but something about needles made her whole body go weak. First came tunnel vision and ringing ears, then came a hot flush and lastly, was the nausea.

  "I'll just be outside." Olivia bolted out the door, sat on the floor and propped herself up against the wall. The cool tiles helped the faintness subside, but her ears still rang like a buzzing mosquito. Once she felt capable, she went to get the wheelchair as she figured Dana would need it. "I'm just waiting outside. Just holler if you need me."

  Before they left, Olivia checked behind the front desk. The phone had no dial tone, and she slammed it back down on the receiver. "Nothing." Dana couldn't keep her head still, and looked all around at this new reality she was confronted with, as if she was a tourist in a new country, not wanting to miss a thing.

  The quiet grew too much to bear. "What if, we all died when killing ourselves, and this is some sort of hell, or purgatory? Or what if, I'm in a coma and brain damaged from my suicide attempt and you're just figments of my imagination? I mean, that makes more sense than everyone just disappearing." Dana's stream of conciousness reminded Olivia of her bi-polar friend who talked a mile a minute when in one of his manic episodes.

  "Come on, it must have been an evacuation. I can't think of any other logical explanation," said Michael.

  "Then why is there no sign of that? Why was I left here?" asked Dana.

  "I don't know. We just need some time to figure this out. People will come back at some point. They have to."

  "Well, I hope you're right."

  "Why don't we do a bet on it, I'm that confident."

  "50 bucks?"

  "Sure."

  "So Dana, where are you headed? I'll drive you wherever you need."

  "I need to see my mom. I can't believe I did this to her. Put her through this. She was probably

  the one that found me. I need to let her know I'm okay."

  MEMORIES OF A LIFE

  Ash trees leaned out into the road in front of the house, their branches casting twisted shadows, as if guarding the house from some impending threat. As Olivia got out of the air-conditioned car, the heat closed in against her skin like a vacuum seal and except for the chirping of birds the air was still enough to accentuate every noise they made.

  "Do you have a key?" Olivia looked over at Dana, who was still in her hospital gown, which was probably a blessing in the heat. Dana rang the buzzer and waited expectantly. After a minute she rang it again and again.

  "Their car is here." She walked across the gravel driveway and peered in through the window.

  "Looks like we're going in through the window," said Olivia, whilst looking for a large object with which to do the deed.

  "Or not." Dana managed to pop open the downstairs window from the outside and lifted her leg up high to climb through into the house. Olivia followed, albeit a lot less gracefully, and stumbled forward. It was hard to make out anything in the darkness, after her eyes had been dazzled by the brilliant sunlight.

  "Mom?" Dana called into the empty space in front of them.

  "Looks empty." Drawn to the kitchen by the light filtering in through the back doors, Olivia watched the dust particles dance around like a snowdrift in its warm glow. She wondered why the kitchen was always the first room in the house she would go to. The first thing she would do whenever she visited her parents was check the fridge, even if she didn't want to eat anything. She just felt compelled to do so.

  An open jar of peanut butter, with the knife still sticking out, sat on the counter-top along
side two plates covered in crumbs, and a vase of flowers grew brittle in front of the windowsill. Dry fallen petals laid around the base like carcasses left in the baking desert.

  Olivia looked out into the backyard where insects flitted from one flower to another, and birds hopped from branch to branch. Nature carried on as usual. The wooden staircase creaked and groaned as she heard two sets of footsteps climb up. Doors opened and closed upstairs as they walked from one room to another.

  "They're not here." She could hear Dana's voice softly travel through the ceiling.

  By the time she got upstairs, Dana was sat on the floor in the middle of her bedroom looking lost.

  "I'm sorry. I know it comes as a massive shock." She sat on the bed and looked around the room as a shelf full of stuffed animal toys stared back at her.

  "Could we stay here for the night? I don't want to leave, but I don't want to be alone." Dana pleaded. They all agreed they would stay the night and take the time to decide what they were going to do.

  ***

  Dana set the dining room table with any non-perishable food she could find whilst Olivia raided the home bar.

  "You didn't have any vodka, so I decided to go classy." Olivia poured a single malt into a thick glass tumbler and swirled the amber liquid around before taking a sip. "I feel so distinguished. I just need to sit in a large leather armchair with a cigar now." She inspected another bottle from the cabinet. "What is the deal with brandy? People don't like it. I'm sure of it. They just pretend to. But why?"

  "I'll take some of that." Michael got up from the couch and walked over, holding out his glass like a pan-handler, waiting for Olivia to top him up. Chair legs scrapped against the floor as Dana sat down to tuck into a nutritious dinner of canned Vienna sausages and potato chips.

  "Bon appétit." Olivia held up her glass. "This is an interesting meal." She opened her can of creamed sweetcorn and took a spoonful. "The creaminess really compliments my cold soup."