The Last Mile Trilogy

by Jacqueline Druga

  “We named him Sparky.”

  “Sparky!” Robi shook her head.

  “What’s the matter with Sparky? Greek wanted to call him Spot.”

  Robi just stared.

  “Spot.” Ray touched his head. “You know because of all the bumps and …and … you don’t get it.”

  “I get it.”

  “You don’t like it.”

  Robi started to walk.

  “What?” Ray asked with laugh.

  “There’s something wrong with all of you.” Robi said as she moved on. “I hate to see what’s next.”

  <><><><>

  The compact Toyota sputtered with its last bit of gas and diminished to a turtle’s crawl. It did so for about a half a block and then stopped.

  Bishop placed the car in park, sat back and took in his surroundings. A main street, cars strewn about—a usual scene—businesses and churches decorating the streets. From between the seat, he lifted a map. “Well, says here if we stay on this main road, it’ll take us straight out of Pittsburgh. This road will turn into some sort of highway and we can pick up the interstate. I wish we didn’t have to get off the highway. Then again, all those crashed tractor trailers made it impossible to stay on the highway.” He exhaled. “OK, let’s find another means of transportation.”

  He reached into the back seat and grabbed his backpack. “You know I have to do it. No arguments. It’s easier this way. No, it’s cushioned.” After opening the knapsack, he unfastened the buckle on the passenger seatbelt that secured the bust of the Latino woman. “Just until we find another car.” He lifted the ceramic head, smiled and then placed it in the knapsack within the cushion of clothes.

  Tossing it over his shoulder, he grabbed his duffle bag and exited the car. “Looks like some cars ahead aren’t wrecked,” Bishop said. “We’ll just…” he stopped a few steps into his walk. “Do you smell that?”

  He sniffed.

  “Sorry, that’s right. You can’t. It smells like a barbeque.” Wandering a few more feet from the car, Bishop turned and peered left and right. “There. See? Look there’s smoke.” He grinned. He could see a church, high and bright. The smoke seemed to emerge from below it, as if there was a backyard or a whole entire bottom building. “It’s a barbeque all right. That means there are people.” No sooner did he move forward toward the church about a block up the street, than he heard the growl.

  Bishop stopped.

  Another growl.

  He peered over his shoulder.

  The dog was large, a husky, its fur sporadic with small grotesque bumps covering its body.

  “Hey, pooch,” Bishop said calmly. “I’m only heading to the church. See, I think there are people there.”

  The dog began to bark fanatically. Its horrifying bark rang in Bishop's ears, sending off warning signs. So as not to give the dog cause to attack, Bishop moved slowly.

  “Easy,” he said as he took one step back at a time.

  The dog pursued at the same pace.

  Nodding, and keeping his eyes on the animal, along with a hand on his knapsack. Bishop eased backwards. He made a mistake turning to see how far he was from the church. Not far. A block maybe. All he had to do was make it to the gate at the bottom of the hill and he was home free.

  The second he turned back to face the dog, it lunged with a mighty growl.

  Bishop turned to run, as he did, the dog’s jaws latched on to his left thigh and his teeth sunk deep into Bishop’s flesh.

  He cried out in pain. Then with a swing of the knapsack, he clocked the dog on the head.

  The dog released him and Bishop ran. After shaking off the hit, the dog sped after him.

  He didn’t have time to notice his injury or let it hinder him. Still holding his things, Bishop neared the back portion of the church. Two large hedges were an inviting entrance.

  The dog was close, he could hear the barking and the growling, and Bishop began to holler. “Help! Someone!”

  He flew through the hedges; a large courtyard separated him from the safety of the buildings. Bishop didn’t stop running.

  He didn’t see it. Even if he did, Bishop was in far too much of a hurry to notice the huge homemade wheel that sat in that courtyard. Like a sadistic version of ‘Wheel of Fortune’ it had two arms made of partial telephone poles. Racing toward it, a shifting sound rang out followed by …

  Whoosh!

  The wheel turned and one of the partial telephone poles swung outward into the back of Bishop’s legs.

  His body flew up and he careened hard onto his back on the concrete. He grunted, opened his eyes, and saw the beast lunging from behind.

  The dog leapt with great speed. When he was right above Bishop, ready to careen down, a shot rang out. The dog yelped and flew back. It happened that fast. Before Bishop could get up, a foot sailed down, pinning him to the ground at the same moment a shift and pump brought a shotgun directly to his face.

  “Nick, check to see if there are anymore following him,” Robi ordered, holding her foot to Bishop’s body while aiming.

  “Got it.” Nick took a step and then paused. “Uh, Mom, he’s injured.” With that Nick turned and took off.

  “Shit.” Robi said, annoyed. She removed her foot from Bishop and checked for an injury. Using the tip of her boot, she nudged his thigh and lifted it. Blood seeped to the ground. “You’re hurt.”

  “No …” Bishop grunted and lifted his head, “kidding.” His head fell back and Bishop passed out.

  “Hey.” Robi nudged him with her foot. “Hey. Great. He’s out.”

  “Mom, I didn’t see any more,” Nick said when he returned. Looking down at the man he asked, “Is he dead?”

  “No, out,” Robi replied. “Go get Ray.”

  “How did he find us?”

  Robi shook her head. “I don’t know. Just go get Ray. He needs help.”

  Nick hurried away, and Robi stood there, staring at the stranger.

  At one time, it had been the nurse’s office in the old school portion of the church. And they hadn’t used it since a man named Ed was bitten by a dog, got sick and passed away. That was a month earlier. He wasn’t with Robi and Nick long, just a week.

  Now they used the nurse’s office for the same reason. Another dog bite. Bishop lay on his side, and Robi checked the IV. It dripped at a steady pace.

  Ray knocked at the door. “Can I come in?”

  “Yes, please,” Robi said.

  “How is he?” Ray asked.

  “Um, physically, better,” Robi stated. “We’ll know in a few hour if the antibiotics will stop any infection from the bite.”

  “I didn’t need them.”

  “That’s you.”

  “What did Doc say?”

  “Doc said, ‘Oh’,”

  “Where did he come from?” Ray asked.

  “I thought you would have checked his stuff by now,” Robi said.

  “Not yet. It’s hopeful, another person.”

  “I know.” Robi nodded. “If he doesn’t die.”

  Bishop moaned.

  Robi winced. “Sorry.”

  Bishop tried to roll over and grunted. He opened his eyes and spoke groggily. “Juanita. Juanita.”

  Robi looked at Ray questioning as she knelt by Bishop. “What?”

  “Juanita,” Bishop repeated. “Tell me she’s all right. Tell me she’s fine. Juan …” his eyes closed.

  “Damn it,” Robi stood up. “There was someone with him.”

  “That poor woman.”

  “Ray, get Manny. Nick, take a truck. He didn’t foot it here, he had to have driven. We have to find this Juanita. She may need help. Look for a new vehicle, anything.”

  “Got it,” Ray backed up. “I’m on it.

  Robi exhaled and stared down at Bishop. “We’ll find her. Don’t you worry, we’ll find her.”

  <><><><>

  “We couldn’t find her.” Nick tossed the keys down on the table before Robi.

  “You’re kidding me
. What about remains?” Robi looked up from her paperwork.

  “Nothing.” Nick said. “We found the car he drove. At least we think we did. We found a stuffed duffle bag.”

  “Probably his. That poor Juanita.”

  “You think she’s hiding somewhere?”

  Robi shrugged. “Could be.”

  “Has he said anything?” Nick asked.

  “Strangest thing. He mumbled something about a barbeque.”

  Nick snickered. “Maybe he’s hungry.”

  “Probably is. But he isn’t showing signs of starvation. In fact he’s pretty fit. He’s in good shape.”

  “You checked him out?” Nick raised his eyebrows a few times.

  “Oh, yeah,” Robi said sarcastically.

  “What are you working on?”

  “Rations and the left wing,” Robi said. “Manny wants to get working on that right away.”

  “Hell of a stock room when he knocks out the walls.”

  “Yeah, tell me about it.”

  “Hey, mom?” Nick reached behind him. “You know how we plan to scout a new place?”

  “Yeah, after the bad die and the good remain.”

  “Stranger guy had something.”

  “What’s that?”

  Nick placed the notebook on the table. “Check that out.”

  Robi opened the cover. “They’re names and cities.”

  “Pages and pages of them. You know what that is, don’t you?”

  Robi shook her head.

  “Thinking cap,” Nick said. “Think back. Look at the first name.”

  “Annette?” Robi shrugged.

  “Think, Mom.”

  Robi read out loud some of the names. “Annette. Lewis, Felicia, Greg …” her eyes raised. “Why do these name and cities sound familiar?”

  “They were the people that called into the television station, remember?”

  “He wrote them all down to look for survivors,” Robi said.

  “He was heading to Wheeling next. He put numbers next to them. And we found a map in the car.”

  Robi examined the crossed names. “He hasn’t made much progress.”

  Nick shook his head. “You know, we should go down to Wheeling.”

  Robi shook her head. “No one’s gonna be there. Two months later, Nick, people are doing what he’s doing. Wandering around looking for others. It’s a potluck shot. Staying put is our best option. People will find us. We burn a smoke signal every day for …” Robi started to laugh.

  “What? What’s so funny?”

  “Stranger Guy said Barbecue. What were we burning today?”

  “Dogs.”

  Robi smiled. “He may like that little irony when he wakes.”

  “He may. Well, I’m gonna go play with Sparky. I’ll let you get back to your work.”

  “Thanks, Sweetie. Be careful.” Robi accepted a kiss to her cheek and returned to her papers. She took a moment to look out the window. There she was working on a plan for the left wing of the old church school. A building previously used for Boy scouts, Alcoholics Anonymous meetings and so forth was now being used as a temporary housing for survivors.

  Robi and Nick went to the church for several reasons. When they did so, they didn’t plan on being a starting post—so to speak.

  They went because it was close, and the thick walls around the courtyard afforded them protection. The layout allowed them to booby trap the place. The Pastor of the Parish boasted the best garden, and mostly, the generator. They knew the church had its own generator. They would stockpile food and other items and stay put for a spell. Then Manny came.

  They called it ‘The Drop,’ that fateful day in April when most of the world just dropped. Robi and Nick had moved to the church within a week and Manny showed up a week later.

  It was Manny who told them about using the smoke signals for survivors, because he had followed Robi’s inadvertent signal when she was grilling for her and Nick.

  Manny was a blessing in more ways than one. The cop that originally helped Nick never returned and Manny was the only other person they had seen.

  He was bright, clean cut. A lanky younger man, who was usually quiet and only spoke too much when he was stoned, drunk, or speaking technically. An electronics whiz, three days before ‘The Drop’ Manny had lost his job with the electric company when he failed a drug test.

  The generator was a good idea, Manny told them, but getting gas was going to end up being a pain in the ass. Use it as a backup was his suggestion. Manny then went to the main station, shut down the power, and rechanneled it to the transformer by the church.

  They had lights.

  Nick had his game unit back as well. A video activity that all the men loved.

  Manny had never been married, but he had a girlfriend and a newborn. Neither of them survived. He was just wandering when he saw the smoke.

  He was quiet most of the time until Ed arrived. Ed brought news of the dogs.

  Robi, Nick, and Manny hadn’t encountered them. Ed hadn’t either until the day before. Something had happened with the dogs. They were vicious, sounded demonic, and were visually disturbing. Ed had arrived a few days after Manny and they had bonded quickly. Then ironically, Ed died from a dog bite.

  The dogs followed the smoke more than the people.

  The next one to follow the way of the smoke was Ray. . He showed up, claimed to see the smoke, and asked for assistance with a man he found … Doc.

  Doc was an older man, probably hitting eighty. Wise and great with medical advice, he had acquired the name Doc from Ray, because he’d stitched Ray’s dog bite.

  But Doc had bad legs and feared leaving the house where they had holed up. Robi and Manny went for him while Ray rested.

  Doc played the doctor part well. In fact, he told Robi, he was a general practitioner for many years. But his mind was going and often he wasn’t as clear as he’d like to be. Robi made most of the medical decisions, but no one knew. They all thought it was Doc and she was fine with that.

  Greek was the final man in the church crew. He showed up like Bishop, chased by dogs. He was so frightened that for two days he spoke only gibberish. This earned him the nickname Greek, because everything he said at first was Greek to them.

  Greek had some good assets. He was book smart and loaded up four rooms with books that he thought they’d need. He was research and development. Any questions they had, they asked him and he’d look it up. Greek was in his fifties, lost a wife and six children to the ‘drop.’ He and Robi related on a different level.

  Once determining the dogs were the biggest threat, Ray and Manny helped tweak the security that Robi had already implemented. Granted, they went far beyond what they needed. A hobby of sorts to them all. The church ended up being so well protected, they called it Fort Pierce.

  Fort Pierce.

  Robi chuckled as that thought crossed her mind. Her pencil had stopped moving in useless circles. She was caught up in thought and staring out the window.

  Realizing how far she drifted from her intentions, she snapped out of it and returned to work.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  June 10th

  He ran in slow motion, as do most people in dreams. But in the dream itself, Bishop attributed it to the sand. His arms were extended out in a welcoming manner as he dashed down the Pacific beach. The ocean breeze hit against him, the roar of the waves loud.

  She was headed toward him clad in a white, skimpy bathing suit. Her skin was sweet brown. Her hair, long and luscious, swayed left to right in her run, while her breasts bounced high and mighty.

  “Hey,” she called out, her voice deep and raspy, yet sexy in a way, “come back.”

  “I’m,” Bishop said, “here.”

  “Ranger Spy. Ranger Spy.”

  “Huh?” he asked.

  “Ranger spy, fan to tall bright?”

  “What the heck?” Bishop was confused. She was beautiful and made no sense. Bishop just wanted to grab on to her. “Juanita.
”

  “Ranger Spy. Hey Ranger spy. Fake pup. Fake pup. Hit. Fees fought ass pawn ding.”

  At this point, Bishop was confused. Perhaps she was speaking dream code. “Juanita?”

  She drew closer. This time she screamed. “Hey! Ranger Spy!”

  Just as Bishop reached to her, a bright flash of white light blinded him. He shielded his eyes, and in a jolt, woke up calling, “Juanita.”

  Where was he?

  He felt as if he were back in high school, the nurses office maybe. His surroundings were clinical white, the walls old and in need of paint. At the foot of his small cot was a partition curtain. He sat up and looked to his right. A large black man stood by a window; the blinds were pulled all the way up.

  Bishop cleared his throat.

  Ray turned around. “Thought that would do it.”

  “I’m sorry. Excuse me?” Bishop asked groggy.

  “Need water?” Ray asked.

  Bishop nodded.

  Ray placed a glass on the small nightstand next to Bishop’s bed. “I said, I thought that would do it. The sun. It’s a heck of a day out there. Plus, you showed signs of reviving. I was calling you.”

  “Were …” Bishop paused to take a drink of his water. His mouth was dry, throat sore. “Were you calling me, Ranger Spy?” he asked.

  Ray laughed. “No, Stranger guy.”

  Bishop nodded. “It was in my dream. Where am I?”

  “Where do you think you are? What do you remember?” Ray asked as he stood by the bed.

  “I think I’m in Pittsburgh or just outside of it. I was on my way to look for survivors.”

  “Survivors?” Ray repeated serious.

  “Yeah, you know, since the world all dropped dead.”

  “And this is in your dream?” Ray asked.

  “No, reality.”

  “Did you hit your head?”

  Bishop shook his head.

  “Then you dreamt it.”

  “No, everyone in the world was affected. Almost.”

  “Well, that’s true,” Ray said. “It’s probably the shock that got to you.”

  “I’m sure. I was attacked by a dog.”

  “Mob.”

  “Excuse me?”