The Last Woman (All That Remains #1) (6 page)

I know I’m staring at him, but
how often do I get to really look without him catching me? Oh, he is the
definition of sexy. His pitch black hair is getting long, and I want to run my
fingers through it so badly I almost dare. Afraid I’ll wake him, I resist the
urge, but it’s difficult. My fingers gently rub his back, feeling the outline
of the firm muscles through his shirt. He moans lightly and shifts his body, loosening
his grip on me a little. When he scoots his head up to my shoulder, I can feel
his warm breath on my neck, and it feels so good.

It occurs to me that I’m a
terrible person. I’m supposed to be here to comfort him and make him feel safe
the way he’s done for me. I’m not supposed to be turned on. It’s not just his
attractive face and enticing body I’m lusting after now. I really care about
him, too much if I’m going to be honest with myself. I have to be careful. I’ve
never been so inexplicably drawn to a man. I’ll admit there are times when I
just want to tear his clothes off and ride him until I can no longer walk, but
it’s more than a simple sexual attraction. I feel like a different person when
I’m near him. He has never uttered one hurtful word against me, nor looked at
me in the disdainful way men tend to look at me. He’s good to me.

In my head, I scold myself.
What am I doing? Am I such a glutton for punishment I’d fall for a guy so far
out of my realm of possibilities? I can’t be that stupid. I can’t imagine any
girl in existence could spend time with him and not fall head over heels in
love. However, I’m a realist, and the plague may have brought us together in
the same house, but it didn’t change my appearance. I promise myself no matter
how I feel, I won’t show it. I won’t humiliate myself and embarrass him. We’ve
built a family, and I don’t want to destroy that.

He’d surely run like hell if
he thought for a second I want him the way I do. Some beautiful woman will come
along, just like the ones he’s dated in the past. Someone who will hold him in
the night and make him feel safe and happy. He deserves that, and I want it for
him. I swear to myself I won’t be jealous.

Tonight though, he’s mine for
a few more hours, and I’m going to let myself enjoy the feel of his warm firm
body against mine. I have no intention of leaving him before the sun rises. I
don’t want him to wake up alone in the dark again. His hand rests on my stomach,
and when I cautiously slip my hand into his, he responds, tightening his
fingers on mine. I doze in and out until it’s light outside, then carefully
untangle myself from him and pull the cover up to his chest before slipping
quietly back to my room and into my cold bed.

At breakfast, he apologizes for
waking me in the middle of the night.

“Don’t be sorry. You had a
nightmare. I can relate. Sometimes I hate to go to sleep because I never know
who or what is going to haunt me. Even the good dreams are torture when you
wake up and realize it’s all gone. They’re getting less and less though, and
I’m sure yours will too.”

“Well, thanks for coming...and
um...staying with me,” he mumbles. So he does remember. I thought he may have
been too drunk or out of it to realize I’d spent the night with him.

“Anytime,” I reply and
instantly regret it. Did it sound like I was too eager to get back into his
bed? We’re saved from the rest of an awkward conversation by Jayla, who plops
down at the table and pours a bowl of cereal.

Abraham

Finally, he leaves the house
without her. I want to speak to him without the girl present. She’s sleeping
when he comes outdoors with a lawn chair under his arm.

“Hello.” I nod at him. He’s
understandably shocked at my abrupt appearance. “My name is Abraham.” I offer
my hand and after a slight pause, he shakes it.

“I’m Cole.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,
Cole. May I join you?”

“Uh…yeah...of course.” He
offers me the chair and takes a seat on the step. “Are you alone?”

“Not anymore.” I grin. “God
has led me to you and your friend.”

“God?”

“Of course. Everyone is dead,
but for a select few of his chosen. Also, those he left behind who aren’t too
far gone for us to save,” I explain.

“Which category do I fall
into?” he asks with his eyebrows raised.

“You’re one of his chosen,
Brother Cole. If I’m to be honest with you, however, I’m not certain about your
friend Katie.”

His head jerks, and his eyes
narrow as he studies me. “How do you know her name?”

“God told me. He sees far,
Brother.”

“God talks to you?” he asks
skeptically.

“Yes.”

“What does he say?”

“He told me I’d find you and
other chosen people. We’ll join together to save the lost souls and lead them
back to him.” He doesn’t seem convinced. “He also told me you’re a good man,
that you read the bible and pray, and you’ve resisted the temptation he’s
placed in your path.”

“What temptation?”

“Katie. You never took her to
bed. You prayed to find people. You wanted to meet other survivors. You prayed
for company, and God has answered your prayers. He sent me, and we’ll be joined
by others as the Lord sees fit.”

“Thank you, Jesus.” He sighs
and bows his head. “Katie’s a good person, too. I know she isn’t particularly
religious, but she’s never had a chance. Her family wasn’t Christian.”

“Then perhaps she needs only
to hear his word.”

“Would you like to stay and
have dinner with us? It’s not much, but it’s hard to get good meals together.”

“We’ll be eating far better
soon for God will provide. I’d be delighted to stay. We have much to discuss.
There’s so much work to be done.”

Troy

I hear his rifle fire a split
second after mine.

“I said I had it!” I huff as
the buck falls to the ground.

“And you missed. Face it, man,
you’re a lousy shot.”

“Yeah, well, you fart all
night in your sleep,” I grumble.

“Stop watching me sleep. I’ve
told you that you aren’t my type.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,
buddy. I hear you from three rooms away. Besides, I like my guys a little
thinner around the middle.”

“Just help me string him up,”
Micah gripes.

I never get used to this part
and I turn my head as the deer’s guts plop onto the ground in a steaming pile.

“Why don’t you go start the
gennie and fix us some supper?” he suggests, letting me off the hook. He
doesn’t have to ask me twice.

I stoke up the fire in the
fireplace of the small house we share. It’s not enough to heat the entire
place. We have two generators to power the electric heaters in the bedrooms,
plus a microwave and an electric stove we nearly broke our backs procuring.
Three large coolers sit on the back porch. It’s cold enough outside to keep our
meat fresh.

Micah’s a big guy. He’s over
six feet tall with wide shoulders and tree trunks for legs. I’m not exactly
small, but he could break me in half if he had the inclination. Fortunately,
he’s a nice guy, and we get along for the most part, though we live to give
each other shit. For example, last month Micah darted into the house, cursing a
blue streak because there was a snake in the yard. I expected to kill a huge
cottonmouth or even a rattler from his exaggerated response. When I came in
laughing and carrying the eighteen inch long harmless garden snake, he found a
few more creative curse words to hurl at me.

It tickles me that such a
large guy is so terrified of not just snakes, but most bugs and reptiles. When
we camp, I have no problem sleeping rough. Just give me a blanket to wrap
around me and a fire, but Micah insists on a tent and an air mattress. The
world may end if a spider crawls on him. He screws with me about my lack of
hunting skills, and he’s right. I can’t shoot for shit, and I hate cleaning and
butchering the animals. The first time he skinned a deer, I puked. Don’t think
for a second I’ll ever hear the end of that.

After a dinner of deer steaks,
canned potatoes, and a couple of pudding cups, we play poker. Some nights it’s
five card draw, blackjack, or so help me, checkers. Micah is crazy about
checkers. Maybe it’s because I rarely win. We’re getting bored, however, and
I’m trying to convince him we should travel around a little. There’s no
shortage of empty houses in which to camp. We can’t be the only survivors, and
I really want to look for more people. Maybe I can convince him he’ll find a
woman.

New Year’s Eve came and went,
and we tried to make it fun for the kids. They stayed up until midnight, or
what we think is midnight. It’s been nine months since the power went out and
our battery operated clocks and watches all show a different time. It’s only a
matter of a minute or two, but it’s strange to realize we don’t know the actual
time.

February brings about below
freezing temperatures, testing our ability to keep ourselves warm. We run the
generators nonstop to power electric heaters scattered throughout the house.
The two fireplaces are always lit, and we dress in layers. Blankets drape over
the couches and chairs. Everyone is getting cranky as cabin fever sets in. We’ve
been closed up together for too long, and we’re starting to get on one
another’s nerves.

“You told me it doesn’t get
very cold here in the winter,” Airen gripes. He’s been out siphoning gas and
his face and hands are red and chapped.

“Yeah, well...I’m not a
fucking meteorologist,” I snap.

He shoots me a dirty look and
goes to thaw out by the fire. The kids have been at each other’s throats as
well. We’re all taking it out on one another. Finally, the arctic air takes a
break from trying to freeze us solid, and it warms up just enough to start
raining torrentially, which doesn’t help anyone’s mood.

It’s pouring rain when Jayla
and Carson burst through the front door, hollering to bring down the house. They’ve
been outside collecting eggs from our chicken coop.

“Mom! Dad!” their voices
overlap in their excitement. My whole body goes cold, and Airen sprints in from
his bedroom.

“What happened?” Airen grabs
Jayla by the shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

“A man, a little boy,” she
stumbles, “in the yard.”

“He’s hurt,” Carson adds. “The
boy’s crying.”

“Stay inside,” Airen orders.

“Airen!” I exclaim when I see
him load the pistol and tuck it in his waistband.

“It could be a trick. He could
be using the kid to lure us out. You don’t know who else might be in the woods,
watching us. Stay here.”

“Like hell! I’m coming with
you.”

He pauses, but must realize
there’s no point in arguing with me. “Get the rifle and stay on the step until
I see what’s going on.” He points at Carson and Jayla. “Stay in the house!” he
barks, his eyes flashing.

I agree and follow him, my
heart beating a mile a minute. As we leave, Carson puts his arm around Jayla,
their eyes wide and excited.

A man lies in the mud,
completely soaked while a little boy who can’t be more than six or seven years
old kneels beside him shaking his shoulder and sobbing.

“Daddy, please! Wake up! Wake
up, Daddy!” he begs.

Airen walks toward them warily
as if he’s approaching a hurt animal that may snap at him. The boy latches onto
his father and eyes Airen distrustfully.

“Please, don’t hurt him,” he
whimpers.

“I’m not going to hurt either
of you,” Airen assures him in a soft voice. “I want to help, okay? I want to
see if your daddy is all right.”

“Can you wake him up?” He sniffles.

“I don’t know, but I’m going
to try. He reaches down and checks for a pulse, looks under his eyelids, and
puts a hand in front of his mouth to see if he’s breathing.

“He’s unconscious!” he calls
to me, and the little boy flinches. The poor thing. I put the rifle inside the
door and rush to help.

“He won’t wake up,” the boy
sobs. He’s covered in mud, dripping wet, and shivering.

“It’ll be okay. What’s your
name?” I ask softly.

“Walker.”

“Hi, Walker. My name is Abby,
and this is Airen. We live here. We’re going to help your dad, but we need to
get you guys inside and out of the rain. You must be freezing.”

I call for Jayla and Carson to
come and help. Jayla speaks soothingly to Walker, and he allows her to lead him
inside. Carson props the door open so we can carry the unconscious man indoors.
We take him to the spare bedroom and place him on the bed.

“What do you think? Is he
sick? Maybe he fell?” Carson asks.

“I don’t know. He’s covered in
mud. We have to get him dried off. Airen, would you find him some clothes?”

“You’re going to strip him?”
he asks incredulously.

“Would you rather do it?” He
gives me a thunderous look and goes to search for some clothes that might fit
the stranger. When he returns, I have the man’s shirt and jeans removed and I’m
drying him. He really needs a bath, but I want to know what I’m dealing with
first.

“Abby?” Airen hesitates. “We
don’t know this guy. He could be like that asshole who took you.” He’s staring
at the unconscious man as if he may jump up and grab me.

“Well, he’s harmless at the
moment. What do you want me to do? Let him die?”

He sighs and runs his hand
through his charcoal hair. “Just be careful.”

Jayla brings Walker to the
bedroom door. She has dried him off and dressed him in one of Carson’s
T-shirts. It reaches his knees.

“What’s your daddy’s name?” I
ask him.

“Joseph Crane,” he whispers.
“Can you wake him up?”

“I’m going to try. Did he fall
and hit his head?”

“No, he just said he didn’t
feel good. He can’t eat or drink. He was hot even in the rain,” he cries.

I put my arms around him. “Are
there any other people who stay with you?” Airen is hanging on our every word.

“All the other people went to
the afterlife.”

“Okay, honey. I want you to
listen to me. I know it’s scary to be with strangers, but Jayla and Carson are
very nice. I’m going to give your daddy some medicine to help him get better,
but he might still sleep all night. Why don’t you go with Jayla and Carson and
watch some cartoons?”

“You have T.V.?” he asks,
astonished. With a small smile, he follows Jayla and Carson to the living room.

Airen stares at me. “He could
get us sick. Whatever he has could be contagious.”

“Again, I’m open to any
suggestion you have, Airen, but in the meantime he’s burning up. I’m starting
an IV so we can at least give him fluids and some ibuprofen to bring down the
fever.”

I realize Airen is scared and
trying to protect us, but I don’t have time for it right now. He watches as I
take Joseph’s temperature with an ear thermometer. I’m alarmed to see the
digital readout blinking 105 degrees. “We have to cool him off,” I mutter. I
take my time inserting the IV. I’ve practiced, and I know I can do it, but
trying to find a vein on the strange unconscious man is unnerving. Airen winces
when I slip the needle under the skin. “You don’t have to stay for this.”

“I’m not leaving you alone
with him.” He frowns and plants himself in a chair to watch. I manage to get
the drip started without a problem and inject the ibuprofen just as Jayla pops
her head through the door.

“How is he?” she asks.

“Still out and he has a
fever.”

“Do you want some help?”

“Where’s Walker?”

“He fell asleep on the couch.
Poor little guy was worn out.”

“I don’t know what’s making
him sick. Perhaps it’s pneumonia from being in the cold rain?”

“It’s probably an infection if
he has a fever, or I suppose it could be a virus. Can we give him an
antibiotic?”

I consider it. “I’m worried he
could be allergic. Let’s try to get the fever down and see if he wakes up
first.”

She nods and sits down beside
me. I can almost see the wheels spinning in her brilliant little head. “Does he
have a cut or wound that could be infected?” she asks, after a few minutes.

I didn’t think of that. We
look him over carefully. She strips off his soggy socks and gasps at the deep
gash across his right ankle, which is swollen and obviously infected. His whole
foot is hot and red.

“We have to give him an
antibiotic. He could get blood poisoning or even gangrene,” she says fearfully.

She’s right. We search through
a book on antibiotics and their indications.

“Why don’t we try this one?”
she suggests, pointing to the list. “It’s strong, and I know we have it in our
supplies.” I agree and prepare to attach the bag. “Let me.”

“No, I trust you a hundred
percent, honey, and if I were sick, you’re the person I’d want to take care of
me. I know you can do it, but if he’s allergic to antibiotics this may kill
him, and I don’t want you to be the one who administered it if that happens.”

I give him the antibiotic and
wait. After a few minutes pass we are at least confident he’s not going to have
an allergic reaction.

“We need to clean out the
wound, and we may as well do it while he’s knocked out. It won’t hurt him as
much.”

“It may even wake him up,”
Jayla says hopefully. Airen has been sitting quietly in the corner, watching us
with disapproval written large all over his face.

“Will you make up the other
bed?” I request. If he’s going to stalk me he may as well be of some use.
“We’ll put Walker in here with him tonight so he won’t panic if he wakes and
doesn’t know where he is. You could make something to eat, too.”

“All right,” he agrees,
frowning, and silently puts sheets on the spare bed.

“Thank you. Hey!” I call as
he’s leaving the room. “Don’t worry about us, we’ll be fine,” I say softly. Looking
less than convinced, he doesn’t argue before disappearing.

The wound looks much better
after we clean and bandage it. His fever has dropped to one hundred one degrees,
a definite improvement. Airen has taken over admirably with Walker, keeping him
entertained, making sure he eats, and giving him a bath. The poor kid is
exhausted. He carries him to bed and covers him with a heavy blanket.

“Are you going to bed?” he
asks.

“Not yet, he may wake up
soon.” Not disguising his frustration, he walks out, returning with a plate of spaghetti
and a bottle of water.

“You need to eat dinner at
least,” he insists, handing me the food. What am I going to do with him? Sweet
and stubborn all rolled into one.

“Thank you.” I peek at his
sullen face as he sits beside me. “You don’t have to worry about me, or Jayla.
He’s got an infection, an injured foot, and he’s dehydrated. If he wakes he’ll
be too weak to even get out of bed.”

“And what are we going to do
if he does recover?”

“I don’t know. You’re right,
we have no idea what kind of person he is, but I don’t want to be scared of
every new person we meet because of what one awful man did. Plus, there’s
Walker to consider. He can’t be more than seven. Surely, you don’t want to put
them out while his father is sick?”

He sighs. “No, not while he’s
sick, and Walker is five years old,” he says, making it clear he’ll have no
problem kicking them out after Joseph’s well. I decide not to dwell on the
what
ifs,
since this isn’t a situation where we can plan ahead.

“Let’s just try to get him
well, and then we can decide what comes next.”

“Fine, I’m going to bed. Call
me if you need me.” He’s so stiff and reserved. I understand he’s being
cautious, but this is the first person we’ve seen in months. Why is he so
positive it’s a bad thing? Why isn’t he the least bit thrilled there are two
more people in our small world? Sometimes I can’t figure out what goes on in
that beautiful head.

I lean back in my chair and
doze lightly, fading in and out of dreams where Airen is yelling at Joseph to
get the fuck out of his house. “What is your problem?” I ask over and over
again. “What the hell is your problem?” A moan brings me out of my dream, and I
come to fast. He’s awake.

“Walker,” he mumbles.

“He’s in bed beside you.”

His face relaxes in relief. “Where
are we?”

“You passed out, and we found
you in our yard. You’re sick. The cut on your foot is infected.”

“I know. I caught it on a barb
wire fence, and I was searching for a pharmacy, but I think we got lost. I was
confused.”

“You had a high fever. I’m
Abby.”

“Joseph.”

“Nice to meet you.” He chuckles,
and I smile at him. It’s the first time I’ve really looked at him. He’s thin
with tumbles of curly blond hair, pale skin, and sea green eyes. His thick red
lips make him look as if he’s wearing lipstick, but I suppose that’s from the
fever. He’s cute, even as pitiful as he is at the moment. “Well, Joe, I’m
giving you antibiotics and ibuprofen. You were dehydrated as well, so you have
an IV.”

“Call me Joseph, please. My
dad was Joe. Were you a nurse?”

“No, I’ve had a lot of time to
read. Plus, my daughter is a medical prodigy.” I laugh and tell him about
Jayla, Carson, and Airen.

“Walker isn’t sick?”

“No, but he was exhausted. He
ate and had a bath. He was happy to watch cartoons.”