Last Woman

by Druga, Jacqueline

  We cheered and congratulated him for his success. Darie was proud, yet I don’t think he quite understood what he did.

  It was the end of the broadcast, but we found the station.

  The boys passed out on a makeshift bed in the living room, while Dodge and me, being our typical evening alcoholics, waited by the receiver on the deck.

  “I once heard,” Dodge said. “That signals are better at night. Bounces off the moon or something.”

  “What if he doesn’t make calls at night. He has to reserve battery power.”

  “Yeah, he does. They’ll be a point where he’ll stop for the night. I just... I just want to hear where he’s calling from.”

  “Who do you think he is?” I asked. “Doctor? Government?”

  “Probably just some guy out there, looking for people. And that kind of worries me.”

  “Why is that?”

  Dodge took a drink of is wine. “People lived Faye. Just because the world died, didn’t mean all the bad did too. Calling out is inviting the bad.”

  “We can’t think that way, Dodge, we can’t.”

  “It’s a truth we have to face. Those who aren’t resourceful may get violent. We’re resourceful. We have to watch.”

  “No, you …” I sipped the wine. “You are resourceful. Me, I tag along.”

  “You do better than you think. I do want to teach you to shoot.”

  “No. No.” I shook my head. “I don’t touch guns.”

  “Faye, you need to learn,” He told me. “Why are you so scared of them?”

  “I hate them. My father was a huge gun person. He was shot and killed when I was nine, by his friend. It was an accident but still.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know that.”

  “I didn’t tell you.” I peered down to my Wilkes’ Watch. “It’s almost time.”

  “You changed the subject.”

  “I hate guns.”

  “Will you think about it?” Dodge asked. “You don’t know. What if we’re traveling …”

  “Why are we traveling now? We have the boys?”

  “We can’t stay here. Winter will be tough, and we have to think long term. We have those boys now. We have to look for others, for this ASF743. And you have to learn to shoot. If something should happen to me, you have to protect these kids.”

  “Dodge nothing is gonna happen to you.” After I spoke those words I realized, I was always countering Dodge. Going against everything he said. He wanted to look for survivors, I said there weren’t any. I exhaled. “I’ll think about it.”

  “Thank you.”

  Just as we exchanged glances, a single tone, short and sweet rang out over the speaker. I don’t know if it was the moon, the night, or the receiver that Dodge hooked up to that radio. Whatever the case, there was no static, no interference. Just a clean crisp radio signal.

  We were not the only pocket of civilization remaining.

  We both dove from our chairs to the deck floor and scooted to the radio as if we couldn’t hear sitting a few feet away. I clutched Dodge’s hand with excitement and waited with bated breath to hear what was going to be said.

  One thing was for certain. Others were indeed alive out there. Even if it was only one man who called himself Hashman ASF743. He was alive and well and broadcasting from somewhere in the wonderful state of Kentucky.

  32. Listen

  “This is Hashman. Call number Alpha Zulu Foxtrot Seven Four Three. Looking for survivors. Located Interstate Seventy, one mile west of Central City Kentucky. There will be a convoy moving out from Wendell H. Ford, Regional Training Center. On the one month mark of the fall, May twenty, at zero eight hundred, the convoy will leave for an undisclosed farming location in the panhandle.” The man who spoke as if reading paused, and took on a different tone. “Life is out there. I see it. I’m gonna keep calling out. We need hands. We need survivors. This is the last call of the night. Will resume at zero six hundred hours. This is Hashman. Call number Alpha Zulu Foxtrot Seven Four Three. Looking for survivors. Out.”

  That was it.

  The radio went silent as if it weren’t even on.

  “Will he say anything different tomorrow?” I asked.

  Dodge shook his head, and with a groan and grunt, stood up. “I don’t know.” He grabbed his wine and downed it. “What do you suppose he meant?”

  “What part?”

  “We need hands.”

  “Don’t you think that’s obvious?” I said. “They’re headed to a farming area. They need people to help farm. But why Dodge wouldn’t the base call out?”

  “Honestly, I have heard it said in situations like catastrophes, the HAM operator is the first line of civil defense. This guy probably has the antenna which bounces it off the ionosphere. Most radios aren’t cutting through thousands of miles.”

  “We’re not thousands of miles from there.”

  “Nope, only about six hundred.”

  “You brought those other radios, Dodge. You may be able to make contact.”

  “I’m gonna try. I’m also going to hope this guy gives more information.” Dodge poured another glass of wine and sat down. “Why the base? Is there still a government left?”

  “Maybe there is, down south.”

  Dodge shrugged as he took a seat on the chair on the deck. “Hard to say, I mean this guy sounded desperate. That one moment, he paused and sounded … sincere and desperate.”

  “So why set a date?” I sat down as well and joined him. “I mean really, if you need that many people why set a convoy date. Why a convoy. Why not just give directions to the farm.”

  “Lots of reasons for that, Faye. One, there is safety in numbers, and two, not everyone that survived is good. Things will eventually get desperate.”

  I didn’t believe that, I mean, I could see it ten years from now, but not at the moment, not in the mourning stage. “Not yet, Dodge. The world is still grief stricken, struggling, and lost.”

  “Faye,” He almost laughed my name as if ridiculing me. “You think the bad guys are gonna stop to grieve.”

  “Really?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Really. You’re so certain the bad guys all survived.”

  “Don’t.” Dodge held up a finger. “I didn’t say that. I’m just saying, bad survived. Bad will be bad.”

  “And what is the basis for this? Movies? Books?”

  “Man has proven time and time again, that when faced with desperate situations they do desperate things."

  “And man has proven time and time again, that when faced with extraordinary circumstances, he rises to the occasion.”

  “Please, Faye, don’t tell me you are that naïve.” He said.

  “No, I’m not. I just believe not yet. Not yet. It won’t happen yet.”

  “People loot.”

  “We loot,” I looked at him. “We have looted. What makes us so different? Because we’re not out of control like we saw riots on the news. Those riots, those people in the magazines were just fighting for a piece of what was left. Dodge there is nothing left but a hand full of people. There is no precedence here. “

  “There is precedence, maybe not for the end of the world, but there is precedence.”

  “How do we know this isn’t beyond us?” I asked.

  Dodge nearly choked on his wine. “Like a spiritual thing?”

  “Yes, how do we know?”

  “What … and I’m not making fun of you, but why would you say that?”

  “It’s just odd don’t you think, that we find two innocent children, and in jail that holds three thousand criminals, I just so happen to stumble upon the one immune man who is a good guy. How do we know? Maybe only the good survived.”

  Dodge smiled. “That’s cute.”

  He downed yet another glass of wine which prompted me to catch up. A refill of both our glasses and I was glad I was an alcoholic and had plenty in stock.

  “God did it once before you know,” I said. “I mean with Noah
. A boat and a handful of people and animals. All good. But you know, I did hear Noah was a drunk.”

  Dodge looked down to his glass. “Maybe history does repeat.” He raised his glass. “Here’s to Noah.”

  We clinked glasses. “Here’s to you believing there was still life out there.”

  “And you didn’t?” he asked.

  What I wanted to say was, “I really didn’t care if there was,” but I didn’t say that. I only gave a half smile and finished our toast with a sip of the wine.

  33. Back Story

  I had spent five nights with Dodge, ending each evening talking and consuming some sort of alcohol, but in those five nights, I learned very little about who he was.

  He didn’t finish high school. He was from a single parent family and he quit to get a job so he could help his mother with the bills. He had a younger brother who died in combat. Dodge always worked on cars.

  He lived a simple life, was married at twenty, divorced at twenty-four and had one son to that marriage, and that was Tyler. His other two children, Brad and Lucy were to his second wife. That marriage only lasted four years.

  It was funny, because he teased me that I actually had the perfect sitcom, suburban life.

  In actuality, I did. Up until the accident. Whoever thinks it would happen. I certainly didn’t. I just know my life ended that day, and everything else was minor. Even the world coming to a grinding halt.

  Dodge was strong, determined, and his infatuation with cars, probably played a huge role in his instinct to find a solution and fix it.

  He pre-planned everything, down to each minor detail.

  I had a feeling George was a lot like Dodge. That child got up right after Dodge, filled with enthusiasm for the day. Darie not so much, he had found his way to me during the night, cuddled against me and was still asleep when a bubbly and upbeat George entered the room.

  Of course, George and his enthusiasm woke up Darie.

  He reminded me of my son, Mark, whenever he would have something he wanted to do. Up early, raring to go.

  George was ready to go with Dodge to look and call for survivors.

  “Are we gonna go look today, Dodge?” George asked. “Are we?”

  “Yeah, we’re gonna go.”

  “I hope we find people. I do. I bet it’s a good feeling.” George said. “I know when I found Darie it was a great feeling. Then again it was my brother and it wouldn’t be nice if I didn’t feel great about it.”

  “We’ll look for people,” Dodge said. “But before we do, I need to finish putting together my pump.”

  Dodge’s pump, that was right. With all that had happened, I forgot about his plan for the pump. His means to get gasoline out of any reserve tank at any gas station. It was all in theory that it would work. Get the gas, have the system strapped to the top of Fastball the RV.

  Dodge planned on testing that theory on this day. He also stated he wanted to get more maps. He told the boys about the radio call and conveyed the story with such hope. Dodge made it a point to tell them it was the twelfth of May and we had only five days until we could leave, because there had to be an allotted time in case they ran into trouble.

  The kids showed Christmas excitement over everything Dodge told them. He actually got George all geared up to watch him build the pump. He took both boys out to the driveway and was a natural with them.

  I watched them from the window, Dodge lifting tools, showing each one to the boys.

  Teaching them.

  Dodge was grieving, how could he not be. However, somehow in the middle of his grief, he focused on those boys.

  He told me once, before we found Darie, that I needed a focus. I needed something or someone to need me.

  Dodge found that. I’d say he found that in the boys and they were his purpose for forging ahead. I’d love to say I was envious, but I couldn’t. Reeling in the shock of all that was happening and all that had happened to me, I wasn’t quite sure I wanted to find a purpose. Because any purpose I had in this life, was long gone before the flu even entered out lives.

  34. Contact

  Who knew that May twelfth was going to be such a pivotal day?

  Dodge and those boys finished the pump and were one hundred percent certain it was going to work, and couldn’t wait to try it out when they went out looking for people.

  It was nearing lunch time and none of them had eaten, so not only did I make them lunch, I packed them a snack.

  I really didn’t want Dodge to take Darie with him to test out something that could blow up.

  “Oh, it’s fine, get in the car,” Dodge said.

  “Really, I’m not going.”

  “You sick?” Dodge asked.

  “No, I just don’t want to ride around the city. I want to stay home.”

  “And do what?”

  “Why do I have to do anything?”

  “Um, Faye, we only have a couple days until we leave.” Dodge said. “Well, while you’re sitting around you may as well play with the radio.”

  “You mean listen for Hash guy?”

  “No, the other one. Start calling out. Each channel, call out, wait, call out again, and give it a minute then try another channel.”

  “Dodge, really?”

  “I hate when you say that word. You say it all the time. Quit.”

  “Quit?” I tossed out my hands.

  “Come with us, Faye. The boys want to search.”

  “Take them searching. I’m fine.”

  “You’re missing out.”

  Missing out? Did he really say that? I rolled my eyes slightly when he said that and like he requested, again, I locked the door after he and the boys left.

  They got in the car like they were heading to a baseball game. It was weird.

  The house was quiet after they left. It sounded quiet and felt it. As I started to clean up after lunch, I saw Dodge had left the main atlas on the table. He had two routes marked to Kentucky. Both highlighted in different color markers.

  I was sure it wouldn’t be long before he started packing up Fastball. Dodge was thinking ahead on everything. I still didn’t understand the need to go south and join the group of people, if indeed it was a group of people. For all we know it could have been one man in a house on Interstate Seventy hoping for someone to come and join him in a pipe dream to find a farm in the panhandle.

  Were there even farms down there?

  I know if I told Dodge that, he’d tell me it was one more person.

  The radio Dodge wanted me to try was next to his map. I lifted it, turned it on, and it seemed easy enough.

  Volume. Channel.

  Press button.

  “Hello. Hello.” I called out. Waited. “Anyone there? Hello.”

  Nothing.

  I waited, tried again, and then switched channels.

  Depressing the button, I called out again. “Hello? Anyone there?”

  I lifted the soup bowls. My plan was to rinse them, heat water and soak all utensils in the water that heated on the grill. Before taking the bowls, I gave the secondary call. “Hello.”

  Shaking my head I put down the radio and returned to the bowls.

  The hiss of static made my heart skip a beat. I spun.

  “A little enthusiasm please, Faye. No one will reply to you.”

  My mouth dropped open. Was he checking up on me? Just to be irritating, I lifted the radio, and said. “Really, Dodge?”

  Smiling a little, I switched channels. After calling out I emptied the bowls, switched channels again, called out, set down the radio and filled a pot with water. I felt it was dumb, but just on the outside chance Dodge was checking up on me, I kept doing it.

  Had the screen door to the deck not been open, I wouldn’t have heard the hiss of static.

  In the doorway of the deck I listened. Waiting for Dodge to say I was slacking. But the voice that came over the radio wasn’t Dodge. It was a male voice and young.

  “Hello? Did I hear someone? Hello?” he said
.

  I rushed inside and lifted the radio. “I’m here. I’m here.”

  Did the young man do it on purpose or was he unaware he had the button pressed in when he screamed loudly in relief?

  “Are you okay?”

  “I am now. Thank God. Thank God. I thought everyone was dead.”

  “Are you in Kentucky?”

  “Lady I don’t think my radio reaches that far. My batteries keep dying. I’ve been trying for days to reach someone.”

  The young man wasn’t a child, I could tell that. “Listen to me. In case I lose you. There is a convoy leaving from Wendell Ford training Base in Kentucky, off of Interstate Seventy. They’re headed south to Florida in eight days.”

  “Should I go there?”

  “Yes. Yes. Go to the base. Are you close?”

  “Not really. I don’t know how to get there.”

  I exhaled and thought. Find out where he is, send Dodge. That is what came to mind. That and ‘Please let Dodge in all his eavesdropping glory, chime in’. I waited for it, for Dodge to intervene and say, “Son, where are you.” But Dodge wasn’t listening. At least I didn’t think.

  “Lady?” he called out. “You there?”

  “I’m here. Where are you?”

  Static.

  Oh, God, I thought and called for him. “Are you there?”

  Nothing.

  I closed my eyes tightly. All I could see was that desperate young man, falling apart because after finally making contact he lost it.

  At least I got the information to him.

  Just as I stood to finish my clean up task, I caught a glimpse of my son’s team basketball picture that hung on the wall of my dining room.

  The boy I talked to on the radio sounded so young. What if it had been my son? What if Mark had lived, survived the flu and was calling out for help? I would hope some stranger, no matter how radio ignorant she was, wouldn’t give up.

  So I didn’t.

  I put more effort and passion into trying again. I called out and kept calling until the indicator light went from green to red and my own battery finally died. I never received an answer or heard the young man’s voice again.