Last Woman by Jacqueline Druga Page B

“You ready?”
    Actually, I was. I needed to get inside. My house, my home, was the only thing in the world that would be normal to me. Because it was the only home on the entire street, that didn’t suffer a loss to the flu.
    It battled and lost long before the sickness took the world. It was empty long before the flu claimed its victims. I opened the car door, stepped out and stared at my front door. Like open arms saying ‘Come here, find comfort', my house called to me.
    I was home.
     

20. Home
     
    My house had that ‘been away on vacation' smell. Not old and musty, just unlived. The scent of dust and stale air, along with a hint of spoiling food from the fridge. There wasn’t much in there to go bad.
    Dodge brought the bags inside. I informed him I had some bottled water but not a lot. Unlike the Doyles.
    “What about the Doyles?” he asked.
    “Well that Rush Spring Water truck arrived every month with bottles. You know the big ones.”
    “Where do they live?”
    “Next door.”
    “I’ll be back.”
    “You can’t go over and take their water.”
    Dodge paused, turned and looked at me. “Really? Are you really saying that?”
    “Is it right?”
    “Ask yourself what your neighbors would want you to do. Would they mind?”
    I thought about it and remembered it was the Doyles. They were sweet and caring and would be the first to volunteer their water. “They’d say take it. House to the right.”
    Dodge left. He didn’t say much about my home. Then again, he had only stepped in the door. The first thing I did was empty the fridge. It was odd, because I had plenty of paper products. I shopped at the bulk stores, and while Rich and the kids were alive, I went through them fast. Since their passing, one roll of paper towels no longer lasted a day, it lasted a week.
    By the time I emptied out the refrigerator, I remove some of the dust and I opened the windows to ‘air’ out the home. I had been lingering in the smell of death for days; I just wanted to smell something fresh. In my mind, we were going to be there a while, and when Dodge returned an hour later, I wondered if he were thinking the same thing.
    He must have taken a few trips back and forth to the Doyles because he brought in three of those big bottles.
    He also brought in other items, canned good, candles, box products that were still viable.
    “You looted my neighbors.”
    “Don’t say it. They aren’t using it and it’s guaranteed stock. We don’t know the status of the stores, yet. I plan on hitting the other houses as well. We can’t live off of MRE’s, they’re good in a pinch, but not for your digestive system.”
    “I’ll remember that.”
    “Okay … these…” He pointed to the full bottles. “Are for drinking and food. For cleaning, I brought some of their empty bottles, we’ll use what’s left in your water tank. That water can be used for washing up and if you use it sparingly to wash, we can get a good flush a day.”
    “You’re thinking ahead.”
    “I’m looking at a woman. I’m kind of thinking a flush is a big deal.” He winked.
    “It is.”
    “You have neighbors; they have water tanks, too. I just hit the Doyles for now. I found some flashlights and candles too.”
    “I see that.”
    “Do you mind putting the stuff somewhere? I’m …. I’m going to head over to my ex’s house.”
    “Oh, Dodge,” I nearly whispered with words of compassion. “Are you sure you don’t want me there.”
    “No.” He closed his eyes. “It’s something I have to do. I’ll be back.”
    “Good luck, I’ll pray for you.”
    He reached for the door, paused and turned. “Lock this please. I know things seem safe. But lock it and ...” He reached behind his back and handed me a revolver. It was small, almost toy like. “I got this from your neighbors.”
    I stepped back as if it were acid.
    “What?”
    “I’ll lock the door but I don’t want that. I ’ve never touched a gun and I don’t plan on starting