Last Woman Read online

  He was trying to keep track. He really was.

  The stadium was located in what was originally a depressed area, converted into a riverside cultural section.

  If people were alive, if there were signs or newspapers, surely, I’d find them if I wandered out.

  My plan was to stay close to the stadium. Making it my retreat point if I fell ill again.

  I needed a focus, a goal, to wander aimlessly wasn’t really good. I wasn’t out looking for food, however, I didn’t rule out shoes or clothes. I needed those.

  Focus One - I wanted to find out more of what happened. From what I had gathered in the reports, some sort of event occurred that caused people to die in masses, actually waves, numbers on the reports as well as the number of reports increased with each day.

  However, nothing Wilkes wrote said what it was. Why would it, they were reports on the current status or situation. Or rather distribution and graves.

  Focus Two – People. While I didn’t need them, I wanted to find people. I was alone, I didn’t want to be alone nor did I want to move forward out of the city alone. On a survival scale of one to ten, I probably ranked a two. My biggest venture into survival was when the power went out for two days and I didn’t have air conditioning. My answer to that was a hotel.

  And maybe the hotel was the answer to finding people.

  Where would they go? Aside from hospitals and their own homes, where would they go?

  If they were trapped in the quarantine zone, they were either looking for a way out or a way to survive. They’d search for food and water, or be someplace where there were supplies. Stores, gas stations, hotels, restaurants, bars. There were a lot of bars in the area.

  Final Focus - A way to get out of the blocked city. It didn’t matter how, and I didn’t just want to get out of the city, I wanted to get home.

  My home.

  9. Venturing Out

  A pair of binoculars were in the back of the supply truck and I deemed them my most valuable find of the morning. On the edge of the river, I used them to check out the bridges. To my west, that bridge was destroyed, so were the ones south of the city itself. But one bridge, the one not far from me that only went into the actual city, that was only barricaded. It made me wonder, that perhaps, the event only took place in town and towards the north side. The place where I stood and the bodies were dumped.

  I tried to see the city and it wasn’t easy, what I could make out was still in the distance but I didn’t notice any movement at all. That didn’t mean there were no people there. That was my goal for the day. It was an ambitious walk, but I had to give it a try. Being around and that close to so many bodies, the stench was unbearable and the flies were biting me left and right.

  I carried a sense of hopefulness as I wandered a steady slow pace from the stadium grounds. Away from the river, away from the bodies. Each step made me feel as if I would find someone that of course, no one would be around the area of the dead.

  From driving down to the stadium and museum, I was familiar with a few streets and ones that I was always taught to avoid. It wasn’t the best of neighborhoods.

  There was plenty of empty lots and vacant buildings. The community college was located a few blocks from the stadium, I headed in that direction, knowing if there were people, they could be there.

  If that was a bust, I’d keep going to the city.

  After crossing over what seemed like an endless parking lot, I made it to a main street and saw the sign for the college.

  I had to stop. Even though I had only made it several blocks, my legs were wobbly. I hadn’t a clue how I was going to make it a mile into the city. Stopping and resting, I suppose, or happening upon people. I realized the later wasn’t truly a possibility when I started walking again.

  There were absolutely no sounds. None. Just me. No animals or birds. Where were the birds? It was insane how quiet it was, scary too. I didn’t lose focus, I kept my eyes peeled, just in case some horror novel did come true and vicious creatures would suddenly flock to me from every direction.

  Nearly three weeks of my life had been lost, something huge apparently occurred. Somehow, someway, it was announced. Had it been decades earlier, I would have spotted one of those newspaper boxes and had an answer. But no one used those; they drew their information from hand held devices and the airwaves. Whether it was television, radio or the Internet.

  None of those were available. At least not where I was.

  A block ahead were two fast food restaurants and a convenience store. The sight of them gave me energy, because they were a goal.

  My duffle bag was heavy and it dragged me down. Although the big clothes and large clumpy boots had to play a part in my difficulty walking. Getting something else to wear wasn’t an option, there was nothing around.

  Hobbling, I aimed for the convenience store. There had to be a trace of something. A newspaper, magazine, hell even a tabloid. As I drew closer I saw them, bodies. Not stacked and wrapped, but scattered about the parking lot of the store.

  Not that my pace could have slowed down any more, but it did. How many were there? Eight? Ten? They were decomposing and looked different than the bodies of the soldiers. These people were shot.

  I could only guess they were looters.

  My God, how long did the city go into despair before it just stopped?

  Next door to the store was a McDonald’s, the windows there, like the convenience store, were busted out. Who would want to loot a McDonald’s? At first people probably went for the cash, then as I stepped into the dark convenience store, I saw they grabbed for anything.

  Food. Water. Drinks. The shelves were bare. Completely, utterly nothing left. Not a candy bar, can of soda … nothing save a few packs of cigarettes. Which surprised me, I of course collected them. Why not take up smoking? It would pass time and who cared if it killed me. There was a lighter on the counter and I took it.

  But I wasn’t there for smokes, food or a drink, I was there for information.

  The rack that held the newspapers was turned over, and a few papers were spilled on the floor, most had been trampled on, scattered about by the people that ran in and out. I saw the magazines behind the counter. No one touched those, most of them were pornographic.

  Then I spotted the Newsweek, the cover image was that of a man in a simple, cloth respirator mask. I stepped over the newspaper rack and to behind the counter, reaching for it. The headline read ‘Is Now the Time for Prayer?’ with a subheading of, ‘ERDS claims millions in days.’

  ERDS?

  The date on the magazine was April 24th. Two days before the city was shut down. That magazine was my gold mine. Just flipping through I saw the entire issue was dedicated to whatever this ERDS was. It wasn’t something I could glance at, I needed to read it and to do so, I needed to get out of the dark store and find a place to settle.

  That magazine would give me answers.

  Turning, my foot caught it, and I did like so many others, made it fan out more, the pages of it scatter about with my boot … a newspaper. The only one with the front page still viable.

  I reached down and grabbed it.

  It was a local paper and its date was the 28th. And it was the last newspaper ever to be printed and delivered in the city.

  The newspaper admitted such because under edition it didn’t say, morning or afternoon, it said … last. Last Edition.

  A story on the front page claimed, ‘City Struggles as Death Toll Reaches 80,000’

  ‘Nowhere to Put the Dead’

  That paper was written not even two weeks after I fell unconscious in the bar. Two weeks and that many bodies? I knew, by the magazine and newspaper, I was wrong in my thinking.

  There was no one waiting on the other side of the bridge, no help outside the city. If I deduced correctly, and I was pretty sure I did by a glance, it wasn’t just the North Side or my city, it was everywhere and the bold two word headline on the newspaper said it all.

  ‘It’s
Over!’

  And it was.

  10. Absorption

  I was numb.

  Perhaps that was why I moved with little concern for my physical well-being. Taking it all in as I pushed forward, I found myself oddly void of any emotions. Was it the shock of it all or had I really shut down so emotionally after the accident that I just didn’t care?

  I supposed some rest, food, and educating myself with the magazine would clarify that.

  Maybe.

  I made it across the bridge into the city. Traffic was lined up on both sides, some vehicles were empty, and most contained bodies, waiting to go somewhere as if life was better wherever they thought they’d go.

  The bridge was blocked by abandoned military trucks. No soldiers, they left their posts, unlike Wilkes and Stevens.

  While there may not have been people there was certainly flies. It was creepy to think that the sole surviving species of the planet earth was the common fly.

  Feast and multiply, it scared me to imagine what would happen when they ran out of bodies.

  I knew one thing for certain, I’d rest and then I had to get out of the city as soon as possible. Not only was it overflowing with bodies, but it was a death trap. The diseases alone that carried with dead bodies was enough to set my sights on finding an exit solution.

  I looked down to Wilkes’ watch, it was near two PM. It took me hours to make it a mile or so. I had to hunker down. Maybe the next day’s light, would give me enough energy to find my way home.

  Or at least closer.

  There was a grand hotel, it used to be one of the city’s best and it sat near the river and was only two blocks from the edge of the bridge.

  It was easy to spot and didn’t seem damaged from behind. As I walked closer, I saw it was barricaded off. The streets around it blocked with those horses and rapidly erected fences.

  Keep out.

  Military personnel only.

  I didn’t see anyone though.

  Only bodies. More bodies, lots of bodies. Some weren’t even covered. Just tossed on top of each other outside the fences as if it were a garbage drop off point.

  As I crossed through the barricade of the hotel property, it was apparent that if for only briefly, it was some sort of military setup. Maybe a medical station.

  Tents and trucks were outside, and the main doors were open.

  Rows upon rows of cots were set up in the huge lobby, but there were no bodies on those cots. No blankets. Only remnants of illness left on the mattresses and a sour smell that filled the air.

  Taking refuge on a lobby couch was out of the question, they had been cleared out.

  But the gift shop was not. That made me happy.

  There were three shops in the lobby, untouched by looters, and one of them had clothing. Anything was better than what I wore. Setting down my duffle bag, I went into the shop.

  I was able to find some things, including underwear. The only thing I couldn’t find were shoes. At least shoes I could walk in. They had sandals, and flats, but I couldn’t see me click clacking my way down the barren streets. The boots weren’t going to cut it. I was in a hotel, there had to be something in there. There were tons of bodies outside; I quickly dismissed the idea of looking for shoes on one of them. Remembering how my hand sunk into flesh, I could only imagine what was going to be in those shoes.

  No, the hotel was my answer.

  I thought getting into the rooms would be difficult considering the keycard system, then Christine came to mind again. I made a mental note that I was going to try to find out what happened to her and her family.

  She had worked at a hotel for years and told me that all the keys systems were run on a triple ‘A’ battery system. There was also a master key for emergency workers. If I needed to, I’d look for that.

  I didn’t feel much like going through each room like Charlton Heston in Omega man. I only needed shoes. So, I headed behind the front desk into the offices located there.

  Something somewhere.

  But that was a bust. I checked every drawer, thinking some secretary or accounting clerk had an extra pair of shoes.

  My feet ached and I could feel my ankles hurting from the weight of the combat boots.

  I stopped for a moment, sat on the chair behind the front desk and took a second to think. It was funny because I could have just stopped, found a place to hunker down, read my magazine and relax, but I couldn’t until I found what I needed.

  After gathering my bearings, smoking a cigarette that caused me to cough with every puff, I ventured around the hotel.

  It was a hotel for crying out loud, I had to find what I need.

  <><><><>

  My original assessment of the hotel, being like the magazine, a gold mine, was correct. I didn’t have to go further than the first floor of the hotel.

  A simple walkthrough of the dark kitchen led me to a back hall that joined every cooking or catering department and eventually an employee lounge.

  Her name was ‘J. Cooke’, and I found a decent pair of sneakers in her locker. There were shoes in other lockers, some work shoes, but hers fit me. I thanked her.

  A back storage closet gave me not only a better flashlight, but a pillow and blanket.

  I didn’t need to go up to the rooms after all.

  I noted that the pool area had a hot tub, still filled with water not clouded over and I’d probably use that for clean up the next day. Who knew the next time I’d get to do that.

  I returned one more time to the kitchen for water and cereal, then I settled for the remainder of the day and night in the corner of the first floor lounge.

  A private set up, probably for parties, it had three couches and a set of ‘pull close’ doors for privacy. I gathered every little table lantern I could find. The tiny ones with a single wick, oil based that were used more for decoration. I got them from the lounge and two restaurants. Alone they were a mere flicker, but thirty of them together, lit the room.

  At least, that night, wouldn’t be spent in the dark. If I didn’t catch on fire.

  There were no windows in that corner, so I couldn’t see what was going on outside. That helped with me not being scared.

  Following my criminal behavior of breaking into the locked liquor cabinet under the bar, I settled for the night with my bottle of whiskey, MRE spaghetti, fruit ring cereal and Newsweek Magazine.

  11. ERDS

  I’d rest easy that night knowing that neither the magazine nor paper made mention of the rising dead, cannibalistic creatures or rage monsters. They wouldn’t jump at me from a corner. Neither would crazed survivors.

  While I fell to what was probably more than likely an alcohol induced coma, the world had ended.

  The nice thing about journalism was the recap of news just in case someone missed it. Yeah, someone did.

  Me.

  The Newsweek had plenty of articles; the entire magazine was dedicated to it.

  ERDS.

  European Respiratory Distress Syndrome.

  It started in Europe in February. I didn’t know, nor paid attention, because my own world was ending. No one knew where it came from or what started it.

  One article suggested that Mother Nature just said, ‘Enough’. I wasn’t knowledgeable enough about viruses to know what sounded right or wrong, I didn’t follow the story, obviously, so I had to rely on the magazine as if it were some sort of history book. My only source of education.

  In February, in the middle of cold and flu season, it began as a different strain. ‘H’ Something, ‘N’ Something. Those who fell victim died from complications. It showed no prejudice. The ill didn’t need to be old, young or have any serious health problems. To quote one of the doctors, interviewed, ‘If you get it, you die.’

  A one hundred percent kill rate.

  But the people weren’t getting it as easily as the ordinary flu. I think I read that in the beginning it was one in a thousand that caught the flu, caught that particular strain. Then it move
d to one in a thousand people caught ERDS, whether they had a case of the flu or not, or even a shot. Then...

  One in five hundred.

  One in a hundred.

  By the middle of April, one in two.

  By the time the article was printed, Europe was done and the new flu, called ERDS, was spreading like wildfire.

  The early phase of communicability rate made it easy to cross continents.

  What started as a sniffle, cascaded to full blown pneumonia symptoms, and people choked and drowned on their own overproduction of phlegm. That was if the fever didn’t kill them.

  In was inhumane, people suffered at first for nearly a week. Then as healthcare facilities were unable to handle the ill, as medicine, antiviral, and fever reducer stockpiles plummeted, the ill weren’t getting their symptoms treated and the symptoms killed them faster.

  That was at the end. What I gathered from that last newspaper article.

  My city was done. Officials told families to place their dead out like garbage. However, I guess soon enough, those caring for the ill, just got sick themselves.

  My heard spun from all the information I tried to process that night along with the alcohol. It was a long time since alcohol affected me. Maybe I shouldn't have drank, especially after alcohol nearly killed me, but I didn’t care.

  Why should I?

  ERDS was hailed as the extinction event. Not just humans, but everything. Every species carried it and contracted it. Birds dropped from the sky, dogs died in the street.

  Everything but flies.

  Scientists never found one occurrence of immunity. Not one case? What was I? A fluke or did I really get it and was that one in eight billion that beat it.

  Extinction event. Everyone … everything died.

  Except for me.

  Was that possible? It couldn’t be. There was no way, no how. I was the only one remaining.