Below are the first 6 chapters to 'The Last Woman on Earth'
The Last Woman on Earth
Chapter [01]: Last
I am a woman shrouded in absence. In this darkness, I am alone.
My eyes tear open like panicked prey and I attempt to breathe. Cold fury launches down my throat and I hack, violently shaking in my weakness. A contraption lifts off my face and releases its violating embrace. Screaming and explosions echo around me, blasting noise into my already-confused brain. It’s a party. No, it’s a war.
“EVELYN! WAKE UP!”
Someone’s screaming my name. A deep familiar voice: my father.
My perspective is off. White tiles and bright lights stand stoically in front of me and my petite feet point down to a figure that walks on the wall. Disorientation gives way to understanding. The room is correct, I am wrong. The figure is my father, approaching my bed-ridden form. I am laying down.
I turn my head, my neck creaking like a thousand-year-old joint. Complicated machinery greets me, showing my pulse and all sorts of other statistics. Mumbo-jumbo that can only be read by an authoritative figure with knowledge of what’s going on—knowledge I’m not privy to.
This is a hospital room. What happened? Why am I here?
My father leans above me, tears streaming down his face. He’s scrabbling frantically; yanking at tubes and cords. My panic is enhanced by his frantic movements. I feel a sharp pain on my arm and see an IV drip go crashing by.
My brain can’t process correctly. It splutters like a failing generator; trying to make sense of my surroundings. It’s all I can do to remember my name. Evelyn. Ev-e-lyn. In frustration, I mentally scrabble for the slightest fact; the smallest of recognitions. Who are you? A vision of metal lockers slamming shut and the bland smell of grease-burgers briefly flutters past. School. How old are you? Fourteen; I am sure of that. But…I don’t feel that young. I feel…I feel…
“Sit up sweetheart! Oh God, I can’t believe it worked. You’re awake! Sit up!”
My father grabs my brittle arms and props me against a stack of pillows. I flop about. I’m a newborn, weak and frail. My limbs are shaking and I cannot control them. The noise beyond the room’s sterile walls escalates. Closer. Explosions and screaming. Gunfire.
My father’s pulling out clothes from a duffel-bag and dropping them on the thin mattress in front of my feet. They’re for me, but they’re not the clothes I’m used to seeing or wearing. They’re longer, more mature. He pulls out a bra.
I look down at myself. My breasts are larger; no longer the childish equipment I used to have. I’ve filled out. I notice my skin. It’s white like cream! What’s happened to me?
My father’s face reappears, close. His eyes glint with the twin seeds of terror and urgency. He looks older, a lot older. There’s not a single spot of brown in his hair anymore. All gray. That fact makes me sad.
“Evelyn sweetheart. I NEED you to do this. If not, I can. You have a catheter. You have to pull it out and take off your robe. Switch to these clothes as fast as possible. We have to get out of here. We have only a few minutes.”
The information is too much for my brain to handle. It takes a long time for the words to make sense; for my mind to put meaning behind them. Eve-lyn. My name is Evelyn. My father’s expression grows even more terrified and he looks at the door with further urgency. I finally notice the dresser and soft chair propped against the passageway, barricading it. It looks almost childish.
I try to speak; my mouth slowly forms words. My brain is spluttering to life.
“Fa-ther.”
He nods at me, head bobbing in a blur. “Yes. Yes. I’m right here sweetheart.”
I look down at myself once more. Hospital gown. Hospital room. Catheter? I’ve been in an accident. My vision fades to white and I blink my eyes, feeling my face scrunch up. Headlights. Screeching. A car. There was a car. Or was it a truck? As if reading my mind, my father answers me.
“You were in a coma, Evelyn. So much has happened in the last two years… There was a disease. The women—the women are all dead. We need to go.
You’re the last woman left on Earth.”
Chapter [02]: Firefight
My father gives me a look of apology, then takes off my hospital gown. I’m too weak to stop him. I feel like a ragdoll as he completely exposes me then does something that makes me both squeal in pain and groan in discomfort. The catheter. My father isn’t the violator: he’s removing the violation.
He puts clothes on me, his face red from embarrassment. He finishes dressing me, body pulsing with horror by whatever’s happening elsewhere in the hospital. I look at the black and green running-shoes now adorning my feet. My mind focuses on the colors and I feel as if I’m on a swing-set.
My father grabs my hands and kisses my forehead.
“Can you stand Evelyn? I need you to walk.”
His voice and his commands are making more sense now. My brain is starting to understand his sentences. I twitch my right leg and it slides off the bed; lazy and disobedient. The other one is stubborn and refuses to cooperate. Beyond the door, the gunfire draws closer. My father hurries to it and removes the furniture blocking our way out. He straps on a backpack I hadn’t noticed before and walks back to me.
My left leg begins to move and slides off the bed. I’m now sitting on its edge. I can’t will my body to do anymore and my father is quick to take over. He gives a grunt of effort and picks me up, carrying me as if I’m his little baby once again. His arms are strong and comforting. I want to snuggle into his chest. He takes me to the door and stops in hesitation.
“Dez! You there?” he shouts out.
The door bursts open and a grandfatherly-figure steps in. He’s an old turtle of a man, carrying a machinegun of-sorts. Blood leaks through his long white coat, spreading from one shoulder. He’s a doctor with a gun. My delirious brain wants to giggle at the thought of a doctor that hurts instead of heals. I don’t know why I find it funny.
“Tom! They’ve broken through the blockade!” the man says, “It’s not just civilians now, but the military as well. They’re—they’re uncoordinated. There’s no leader. They’re panicking, believing someone else will take them—the two women.” The doctor looks at me. “They want her for themselves.”
I look at my father. Who’s doing what? A group of people were attacking the hospital? Why? They…after me? What had my father said earlier about women? A disease?
“Dez, I need a distraction.” my father asks, “Is the back stairwell still free?”
The doctor nods vigorously. “But not for much longer. They’re going to circle around and cut you off. The other woman—she’s with her husband now. I just saw them going to the stairs. Don’t worry Tom. I’ll stop them here.”
The turtlish-doctor has a determined look on his face; like a chivalrous warrior. He suddenly looks ten years younger than he probably was.
My father licks his lips. “Dez, thank you. Eternally, thank you.”
Neither man say another word. Dez turns and heads down the left side of the hallway, gun up at the ready; my father carries me down the other direction.
I see the soft red glow of an exit sign. It flickers as if losing power. The building shakes and there’s a massive rumble. I can hear the gunfire with more pronunciation. Whomever is fighting is growing more aggressive.
The hospital feels empty. Each room we pass is open and silent. The lights are all turned off. Liter and junk cover the floor and I feel as if I’m in some sort of apocalyptic movie.
My father makes it to the stairs and takes them two at a time. He’s grunting from the strain of carrying me but he doesn’t slow. I feel guilty that so far I’ve been worthless. My legs twitch with more confidence and I know that maybe now, I can stand on my own. My father notices and when we hit the bottom step, he lets me down. I am able to stand, wobbling in place like a noddle trying to stand upright. It’s as if I’ve never walked before. I use the wall to support myself and my father keeps hold of my elbows.
“Sweetheart. You need to get your legs moving. You’re going to have to run.”
“Daddy…” I choke out. My mouth feels horribly dry. “What’s going on?”
My father reaches into his backpack and pulls out a pistol. I’m shocked. My father is the most peaceful man I’ve ever met. I didn’t think he could even use a gun. The weapon glints menacingly and I feel my stomach clench just looking at it.
He holds it uncomfortably and looks into my eyes.
“While you were in a coma something really bad happened. I can’t explain just yet, there isn’t time. In your accident, one of your lungs collapsed. The machines kept you alive, feeding you oxygen. Even when you were healed I kept you strapped in. That’s what saved you.”
His words, his explanation—it’s too much to take in. My mind struggles to wrap around the implications of what he tells me. I open my mouth to release a flood of questions but he cuts me off.
“They’re coming after you now Evelyn. Do you understand? Every man out there wants you. Can you walk?”
I take a tentative step and nearly collapse. Father wraps an arm around me and begins to pull me forward, down a dark hall towards a distant door. There is no one but us.
The walk is long and difficult. I fall often. My father picks me up each time and encourages me to not stop. I feel my strength returning to my legs although my entire body shakes. I am my father’s handicap.
We near the door and my father eases it open. The noise of the gunfire grows ten-times louder. My father looks around and pushes the access a little wider. He beckons me over and I hobble closer. “I have a car parked beyond the public park. It’s just past this employee parking lot. We can make it, but we have to move fast.”
I nod to him and he kisses my forehead. “I love you so much, little Evey.”
I feel tears of fear creep up behind my eyes. I want to hide them but realize my father is crying as well.
“Let’s go.” he whispers.
We burst out into the open and sunlight hits me. It’s warm and fresh and so bright that my eyes instinctively shut. I try blinking and only end up staggering forward into a car. My father grabs my hand and tugs it firmly. He’s leading me. Holding his hand—I feel safe.
He moves fast, to a point where I dare not make a mistake and fall. My black and green running-shoes hit the ground quietly and my legs bend with irregularity as I do what I can to stay upright. I am so weak.
A man and a woman are running next to us. I’ve not noticed them until now. The woman, maybe in her forties, is holding a mask to her face. It’s connected to an oxygen tank that’s strapped to her back. She’s breathing heavily and her eyes are wide in fear. She looks at me and there’s a moment of connection between us. We are the last. We are both prey.
Her husband nods to my father and the four of us move together like a pack, heading towards a distant brick wall. Beyond it I can see trees. The public park.
There’s a fire somewhere behind us and smoke billows upward into the heavens. My feet trod on bullet casings. There are so many of them that it is impossible to not step on at least one. I spot a body laying prostrate against a car’s hood. Dark blood covers the dead man’s chest. It is a sight I have never directly seen before. Death. Not even my mother’s cancer-accountable death had been this direct. I whimper and stumble. My father is there to hold me tightly, still pulling me along.
“Don’t stop Evelyn. Don’t stop moving.”
From around the hospital corner comes a group of many men. Some are dressed in military uniform, others are dressed in regular clothing. They could have been anyone’s father, brother, or son; yet the blood on their shirts and the weapons firmly gripped in their hands make them look barbaric. Terror grips me as their eyes lock onto us.
They run, screaming and yelling, pointing at me and the other woman. Some are raising guns and aiming. I scream; my voice still so weak that it comes out sounding like air escaping a balloon. The two men in our party turn, both firing their guns at the charging horde. My father is killing men to protect me.
Bullets whiz towards us, pinging off the hospital staff cars and the ground. One comes so close to my face, I feel my hair whip about. They don’t care if they kill me; in fact, it looks as if they want to do just that. They would rather see me dead than escaping their hands.
Another group appears from around another building. They are an assortment of every type of men out there, all each carrying weapons as well. But they aren’t coming for us: they’re engaging the others. They fire upon the other group and my father pushes me down behind a car. The married couple with us duck down as well, hiding from the firefight.
My father notices my look and nods. “There are more than just bad men out there Evey. Some want to protect you.”
The man sitting next to us pants and looks at my father.
“Too bad it’s so hard to tell which is which.”
My father bites his lips and peeks over the edge of the car. He beckons us to move as he grabs my hand once more. We stand and begin our escape.
I do everything I can to will my legs to run, yet they refuse, only accepting a brisk trot. I turn my head to look behind me and see the door from where I had exited the hospital burst open. A large bearded man barrels out like an incoming storm. He’s holding an impressive-looking gun which he uses upon anyone that gets in his way. Fear makes my spine tingle. Although he’s battling, his dark eyes never change their course. He’s looking directly at me. My father notices him too and urges me to move faster.
A blur rushes forward and hits the woman next to me. Her oxygen mask flies off her face and she falls to the ground, landing on her tank with a shout of pain. Her husband attacks the man that tackled her. He doesn’t use his gun in fear of hitting his wife. Three more men catch up to us and dog-pile on top of them. They are a mass of squirming bodies trying to grasp at the female.
Someone hits me with excruciating force and I’m on the cement, my hands and forearms ripped to shreds. The pain is excruciating and shoots up to my head like lightning. I’ve never been so terrified. There’s heavy breathing in my ear and I can’t move. An ugly dirty man has pinned me down. His eyes are wild and he acts more like a dog than a man. Crazy.
“Mine. The last one’s mine.” he whispers to himself. His voice is wobbly and out of control.
I think I’m screaming.
Arms reach around the man’s throat and suddenly he’s gone. There’s a gunshot. My father picks me up and pulls me forward; he’s shouting for me to run.
There’s a squeal and a rumble; a military jeep spins around from behind the hospital. A turret on top of the vehicle peers out like the head of a bird, searching for food. The weapon is manned. Without warning, the bird-head turret aims and fires.
The sound is deafening; my ears stop working. The ground is shredded around us and the bodies piled on top of the oxygen-tank woman begin to erupt into spouts of blood. The only other female I have seen is riddled to death by the hot large projectiles. The imagery jars my soul from my body and I float beyond reality, watching the horror happen from a distant perspective. The gore is more than I can grasp.
My father yanks me out of the way as bullets form paths of death on the asphalt. I find out I can run. I move with the grace of broken marionette: my limbs flay about loosely and I feel tears stream down my face like waterfalls. My father’s head is turning to say something to me. His mouth forms the words the car is beyond the park. He doesn’t have a chance to continue. He is stopped like a TV being shut off. Sudden and final.
The turret’s bullets move from the pile of still bodies and follow us, striking my father across the chest and launching him away from me. His body smashes against a car and he drops, still. I see his gray-haired head bob once. That is all.
I cannot run to him. The bullets are already changing their course, coming for me. I have to keep moving. I’m shouting as loud as I can.
“Daddy! Daddy!”
I don’t stop moving. This is a nightmare. It has to be. My father can’t be…
The bullets stop their chase and I turn. The large bearded man that had followed us out of the hospital pulls a knife through the throat of my father’s killer. He stares at me intently, jumping down from the still vehicle—the driver is dead. The bearded man charges towards me at a full sprint. Every man that gets in his way, he kills.
I turn and run as fast as I can, my very core vibrating in parallel with the fear in my mind. Every atom within me denounces and rejects what is happening. This cannot be reality.
I make it to the edge of the parking lot and through a gap in the fence that leads to the park. I am surrounded by green shrubbery and I can smell vegetation instead of spent ammunition. The transition only adds to the ghoulish situation.
I leave the gunfire behind as trees blur past me. The park is long, but somewhere beyond it is a waiting car.
My father is dead!
The thought is violent and sudden. It makes me fall to the grass and I shake with sobs. I crawl forward on my hands and knees, kneading the soft earth beneath my pale fragile fingers. There’s a bush in front of me. I feel it and then push my way into it. I must hide. I cannot make the run to the car.
My father is dead!
I cry into my arms and feel as if I have lost my mind. This is the end of all things. All I have is my fear.
The bushes shake and my head jerks up. It is too late. The bearded man is there, yanking me out violently. I scream and plead.
“No! Don’t! Don’t hurt me!”
He hesitates and looks beyond me; back to the hospital. He turns and smashes the butt of his gun against my head. Everything goes black.
Chapter [03]: Cowboys and Captives
I can hear music rising and falling in pitch. The song is slow and melodic, arguing against every emotion that assails me as I awaken. It smells of alcohol and oil, strong scents that make me cringe.
My eyes flutter open like gasping butterflies and I observe my surroundings as quietly as I can, careful to not make any sudden movements.
The music becomes clearer and I recognize it for what it is. Country. A style I’d never liked before.
Beyond the mountains she sleeps.
My daughter so small.
In the pastures she weeps.
Waiting for my return in the Fall.
I miss her so, I miss her so.
My daughter, I miss her so.
The lyrics remind me of my father and I cannot control the amount of sorrow that washes over me. It’s an unstoppable force of sadness and it squeezes my heart in a death-grip. I shudder in my agony and tears free-flow across my face. I think of my father’s gray hair and his safe embrace. The emotion that comes with the memories drown me in a void of despair. My body moves with the sobs that escape my lips and I don’t care if anyone notices that I have regained consciousness. Let whomever my captors are kill me and end this pain.
There’s movement next to me and I feel a hesitant touch on my shoulder. I pull away in a violent act of anger and my sob turns into a hysterical growl. I feel nothing for a moment and then the hand is back, patting my shoulder once more. I move in a blur, looking up and planning to attack my tormentor. I come face-to-face with a boy years younger than me. I stop, freezing at the sight. He has soft chocolate-brown hair and eyes that only understand innocence. He reminds me of a sympathetic puppy.
The boy is wearing a child-sized plaited shirt with small black buttons like little bugs. The shirt is neatly tucked-in beneath an oversized leather belt that shows many new clumsy notches carved in to compensate for his small frame. He’s a little cowboy, no older than eleven.
He stares at me quietly and neither of us say a single word. I come to realize I’m in the back of a car, but don’t acknowledge the scene; instead I continue to gaze at the boy. I fade into his honey eyes and can no longer comprehend how I feel. In the background, the music continues on.
I can’t return to the mountains.
I have burned my map.
I miss her so. I miss her so.
My daughter, I miss her so.
The boy turns away, breaking the spell. I blink. He leans forward and taps the driver. I look to the man behind the wheel. I can only see the back of his head but I recognize the form. It’s my attacker, the bearded man. Terror consumes me once more and I push backwards against my seat as far as I can. There are no back doors for me to open, no windows I can squeeze out of to escape. The vehicle is a two-door truck and I am stuck in the back where the only way out is forward.
“Da, she’s up. She looks pretty scared.” the young boy states. He says the words hesitantly and respectfully, just like a good little soldier.
The man doesn’t reply but I see his back and shoulders stiffen. The small movement is louder than any words spoken. He is upset. Disgusted even. His hands tighten on the steering wheel and he continues to stare forward like a timeless statue.
I don’t dare say a word to him. I am afraid that if I do, he will turn and kill me. This man could do anything he wanted to me and I would be powerless to stop him. I am too weak from whatever coma I have endured and I have no idea how to defend myself if I were to be attacked.
The man twitches his head to the side as if commanding something. The boy sits back down next to me and refastens his seatbelt.
“Yes da.” he says chirpily.
I pull my legs up to my chest and push myself deeper into the corner of my seat, hiding as far back behind this man as possible. I am a cornered rabbit trapped in a cage.
I look out the window and see nothing but passing warehouses. They are large abandoned monoliths with black gaping openings better suited on creatures deep beneath the bowels of the Earth. They emanate abandonment and emptiness. There are no movements from within their wide entrances.
I look back in the direction the truck has come from. My hometown city is shrinking behind me without a sound. The overpasses and oddly-abandoned streets go from life-size to small cement arteries. They fade into the gray of the cityscape.
There are no movements. The only sign of life comes from the tower of heavy black smoke pouring out into the sky. I know the source must be the hospital. If not for the black ascending cloud, the city could be an abandoned landscape thousands of years into the future. I conclude the smoke’s movements are not a sign of life, but a symbol of death.
The city continues to shrink and we pull away from the vacant factory district; the road becomes a country interstate. Back there, my mother sleeps in her grave and my father’s bullet-riddled corpse sits bleeding in a hospital parking lot. My life—everything I have known since birth—is dead. Whatever my coma accident may have been, I determine it as a tipping point into a state of purgatory I now found myself in. Fresh tears threaten to spill over my cheeks and I wonder how I have the capability to cry more. By now I should have run out of moisture.
Moisture. My mouth is dry and my body screams out in thirst. Even in my sorrow, the baser instincts within me take over and tell me I must survive. I spot a large twenty-four pack of water bottles between the young boy’s feet and I muster the courage to open my mouth. The boy notices I am about to speak and stares at me expectantly.
“May I have some water?” I croak out. My frail voice sounds hideous. Torn and unused.
Before the boy can speak, the bearded man comes to life. He turns in his seat; a fast violent movement. I face my captor and finally make out details to his features. His dark beard and short hair are taken care-of, but not perfect. His face is the face of a man who is both handsome but yet doesn’t care one way or another whether he is admired or not. He is one who dismisses anyone else’s opinion of himself. His brown eyes show so much anger that I flinch and push myself away.
“Don’t you talk to him. Don’t you dare talk to him.” he growls at me.
The voice is like gravel and his tone is menacing; borderline uncontrollable. It frightens me so badly that my body loses control of itself and I begin to shake. What could I have done to anger him so badly?
“Da!” the boy yelps. “You scaring her! All she wants is some water!”
The bearded man turns his fuming stare towards his son.
“Kade, no more out of you. I told you not to talk to her, you hear me?”
The boy lowers his gaze and stares at his feet. “Yes da.”
The man turns around and focuses back on the road. The car has drifted into the other lane and he corrects his mistake.
I want to ask where the man is taking me. I want to beg for my life and to be set free. I want to ask him what is going on and why everyone around me is dying. I really want to ask about the women of the world and what my father had mentioned. Something about being the last female on Earth. I don’t dare to do so. I am weak and afraid.
The boy glances sideways at me and moves his head in a funny fashion. He looks like a chicken. He’s trying to get my attention. I fully face him and he sneakily reaches down, quietly pulling out a bottle of water. He extends the precious liquid to me and I’m quick to take it. In the rearview mirror I spot the man’s eyes watching us. He’s seen the transaction but has not said anything.
I open the bottle and down half its contents. The boy smiles as he watches me drink. He’s like a little guardian. I feel something towards the boy: kindness. To the man driving I feel nothing but fear and anger. I look back out the window, curl into myself once more, and watch the city finally disappear beyond the horizon. I wonder where I’m heading and what will be in store for me when I get there. The country song continues to play out.
A thousand miles to travel I will.
To be with my daughter.
I miss her so. I miss her so.
I will find her, my daughter.
Chapter [04]: Uncooperative
I try to recollect what my father told me back at the hospital.
“You were in a coma, Evelyn. So much has happened in the last two years… There was a disease. The women—the women are all dead. We need to go.
You’re the last woman left on Earth.”
The coma… I was strolling home from school, worried to death about my friend Gina. She’d broken up with her boyfriend and had acted nearly suicidal. It was just stupid school drama. I didn’t pay attention to where I was walking.
My mind plays back the sound of screeching tires. There’s a brief vision of blurred metal and glinting glass. I never saw the driver; it was just a shadowed form. My last thought was of my father: how he would be so mad at me. Then… darkness. I was free-floating.
So much has happened in the last two years sweetheart…
With a start, I realize I’m no longer fourteen. I am sixteen. The feeling it brings is a strange one. One of loss, sadness, and unfairness. I’d always wanted to be sixteen—the prime teenager age. The time where boys most noticed you.
I’d watch the older high-school girls from afar. The sixteen-year-olds with their beautiful bodies and confident smiles. All the boys they dated. Now two years of my life were stolen from me and I was now at that ‘prime’ time.
I look at my pale skin and feel my bland haystraw-hair brush my lip. Definitely not as beautiful as those girls I had observed. Not at all like my friend Gina who could get any guy she wanted. Jeez, a sixteen-year-old Gina could probably make it on the cover of some swanky magazine--
The women are all dead.
Gina is gone. My beautiful friend is not sixteen-years-old. I feel a hollowness widen inside of me. This pain—it’s the same sentiment that comes from being the last survivor of a war. It’s an emotion I can’t fully understand yet, but I know it’s changing my very being.
How did it happen; the death of women? It is almost too much to accept. But maybe my father was wrong. Maybe I’m not the last.
I want to ask the bearded man. I want to even ask the boy. I don’t dare to, not after the reaction given to me the last time I spoke out.
The truck slows down and turns right onto a smaller road. We are coming up to a gas station. The boy, Kade—it is what his father calls him—pulls himself forward into the front passenger seat and opens the glovebox. He takes out a few small boxes. The truck stops next to a gas pump.
I stare at the station. There are two identical cars parked in front. They are both worn down and old. A mustached man is leaning across one’s hood, casually smoking a cigarette. He scratches at his oil-stained shirt and leisurely watches us as we pull up. Through the glass window of the gas station I can see a bald man behind the counter also `observing us. Both are tanned and lean, like lounging dogs. I can’t tell if they’re wild or tame.
Kade, the boy, opens one of the small boxes he’s pulled out and I see its contents. Bullets. My throat tightens and fear makes the muscles in my chest contract. I had almost forgotten that my captor has a weapon.
Kade loads bullets into what I can only assume is a clip and hands them to his father. The bearded man, eyes never leaving the two lazy-looking strangers, takes the clip and turns off the car. My captor leans over Kade and pulls out the gun I had seen him use earlier. It is menacing and long, with black jagged edges and furrowed holes across its body. I have no idea what brand or type it is.
There’s a click as the clip is loaded. The two men outside don’t flinch. The one leaning across the car pulls a long drag from his cigarette and blows it out towards us. His eyes are half-shut and I wonder if he’s high.
The bearded man nods to his son and lets out a sigh. Kade smiles and pats his leg. I notice Kade has a pistol strapped to his calf. I have not seen the second weapon until now.
My captor opens the truck door and steps outside. The mustached smoker stirs and I close my hands into fists, wondering if there’s going to be some sort of fight. I’m terrified.
“Got any gas?”
The smoker flicks his cigarette onto the dirt and rubs it out with the end of his shoe. He smacks his lips. “A little.”
“How much?” my captor asks.
“Free. Money’s worthless now.” the smoker drawls. The man steps away from the vehicle and signals to the bald register attendee inside the station. My bearded captor squeezes his gun tighter and his shoulders tense. The bald man inside pushes a couple of buttons on a small touch-screen and nods back to the smoker.
“Go ahead. The gas pump’s ready.” the smoker drawls out again.
My captor hesitates, then nods to the man. I can feel my heartbeat slowing down slightly. These two gas station operators aren’t going to hurt us. The bearded man walks over to the truck and opens the vehicle’s gas lid, letting his gun hang around his chest by a short strap. He works the pump and I hear the liquid slosh into the tank. As my captor fills up the truck, the two gas attendees stare at me. Their eyes don’t blink and their facial expressions don’t change.
My bowels clench and I can’t look away from the mustached man’s gaze. I feel as if I’m staring into the eyes of a coyote. He doesn’t move, but continues to drill down on me as if he’s imagining me alone in his gas station. My toes curl up inside my green-and-black running shoes.
“So she the last one?” the mustached man asks, coming to life.
My bearded captor taps one finger against his hanging gun while pumping with the other hand. The gesture is small but speaks volumes. I am amazed by his ability to speak loud words through simple motions. He is one that can convey messages with the slightest of movements. A dangerous man. I notice just how healthy, tall, and fit he is.
The mustached gas attendee does not repeat his question, nor does he seem to take offence at my captor. Instead he pulls out another cigarette, lights it, and returns to staring at me. I cannot hold his gaze and instead look to my feet, which point to each other in discomfort. I fight to not hold my arms up over my breasts.
My captor finishes filling up the gas tank and puts down the nozzle. He gives one last nod to the gas station workers and hops back into the driver’s seat. Kade jumps back to his original position next to me. When we pull away from the station and return to the freeway, I am finally able to release my pent-in breath.
We drive for a ways in silence before my captor turns towards me. The movement startles me and I push into the back corner of my seat like a frightened rabbit. The bearded man scoffs.
“I’m not going to hurt you.”
The words are gruff and low, like the voice of a tired lion. My eyes shoot to his gun, leaning across the passenger seat. The man shakes his head in exasperation and turns back around.
“We need to do something about your hair and clothing.” he says.
“What?” I blurt out in surprise.
“You look too much like a woman. We need to change that. Men will be looking for you.”
I look too much like a woman? I stare down at my chest and blush, wondering at what he was thinking of. Was he picturing my body? Was he kidnapping me for…?
“Dammit girl, I can see your face in the rearview mirror! I’m not gonna rape or kill you! You think I’m some lunatic or perv?”
“Yes!” I blurt out without being able to help myself.
The boy, Kade, laughs. It’s a cute little sound. He grins at me and opens up a bottle of water for himself. “You are pretty crazy, da!”
The man turns and glares at his son. Kade grins back and the man rolls his eyes.
“Who are you?” I ask out, feeling my confidence rise a little now that the man had begun to talk. The car goes silent and I wonder if I’ve caused my captor to shut down again.
“Doesn’t matter. We’re not here to be friends. Right now, we need to focus on you cutting your hair and changing your clothes.”
“I’m not cutting it!” I exclaim, feeling my hair. It’s the longest it has ever been.
“Why can’t we be friends with her, da?” Kade asks. He looks to me. “I’m Kade and that’s my da, William!”
The man spins in his seat and the truck swerves a little. He gives a dark look to his son. “No more information Kade. You hear me? What was the lesson I taught you?”
Kade bites his lips, looking abashed. “The more someone knows about you, the more they can hurt you.”
He says the words in a monotone, as if it’s a boring prayer his father has forced him to memorize.
The man—now I know his name as William—nods in approval. He turns forward and rights the truck back into the correct lane.
“You want to live, girl?” he asks me. The words make me gulp and I wonder if he is threatening me. “If you do, you gonna cut your hair.”
I feel anger rise up inside my chest. This man–who’d knocked me out, kidnapped, yelled, and scared the living daylight out of me was now trying to bully me as well!
“My name is Evelyn!” I shout out. “I’m not ‘girl’ and I’m not cutting my hair!”
Through the rearview mirror I can see the man scowling in anger. He stays silent for a minute before I hear him mumble under his breath.
“At least you got a little fight in ya.”
The words are just about impossible to overhear but when I do hear them, I stick my chin out a little further. Kade smiles at me and I am almost tempted to smile back.
I push my luck and ask a question. “So what happened? To the women?” Before I can stop, other questions burst out of me.
“Am I the last? Are people trying to kill me? Why did you kidnap me?”
William’s back stiffens and he goes still. His eyes stare straight ahead and his face grows even harder, a feat I didn’t think possible. He doesn’t reply to my questions. I open my mouth to speak again and he interrupts me.
“Shut up.” he growls.
The words stab into me like a knife and I clamp my mouth shut. I go from believing that there’s a chance for safety to thinking that this man, my captor, could still very well end my life even though he said he wouldn’t.
William raises the volume on the radio and I notice that instead of music, someone is talking.
—although it can’t be confirmed. Most believe that the remaining captured females have now been killed. Experimentation, assault, or foul play are possibilities.
Backlash on the treatment of the final women has escalated to an all-time high with anarchy, rioting, and even fighting among our troops.
We've received word on three countries that have been nuked. I repeat: three nuked. The U.N. is silent so far on how that will affect our country’s security but with the infighting in our own ranks… I don’t know. I just--
The radio goes silent for a moment and I feel how dry my mouth has become. I’m quivering.
Speculation on whether we have any women left alive and in hiding run rampant. Many have reported seeing specialized government troops driving through neighborhoods and bursting into homes. They are both meticulous and thorough. The initiative—nicknamed ‘the Exxes-Search’ after the female ‘x’ chromosomes—has been extremely successful in hunting down and finding the last women alive. Similarly created groups by other countries have appeared all across the globe as various governments do what they can to preserve the last of female-kind.
“Preserve.” William scoffs. “More like splice and study.” He turns off the radio and the vehicle goes silent.
So I might be the last of my kind. The government was trying to find me. If I were the last of my gender, maybe they would be able to use my help. Maybe…
I look to William. The bearded man is paying attention to the road. He kidnapped me. That means he doesn’t want me found by the government. He must want me for something else. But for what? I gulp and a new wave of fear washes over me.
Chapter [05]: Bound
“They’re gone, da.” Kade calls out. The boy turns back in his seat and yawns.
“Good.” William replies from the front.
The truck slowly crawls out of an embankment and back onto the road. I watch as dust clouds disappear in the distance.
We had been followed by the two cars from the gas station. I didn’t know if it were the two men that William had talked to, but it had sure looked like them. I wonder what they would do if they cornered us on the road. I am almost certain they are after me. The thought makes me want to scream.
“We’re almost there.” William states. Kade cheers and gives out another yawn. The boy is tired and I sympathize with him. I am exhausted myself. It’s all I can do to keep my eyes open. We drive for what must be thirty more minutes before we cross a cattle guard and follow a trail meant for four-wheelers. The trail disappears and we find ourselves idling in a small clearing surrounded by tall grass and a couple of scraggly dead trees.
William strokes his beard and sighs. With a grunt, he turns off the car and exits. He pulls his seat forward and motions for me to step out. I look about, staring at nothingness. How can anyone survive out here? Where are the bathrooms and beds?
I move slowly, my legs creaking in protest. When I step out and feel the gentle breeze hit my face, all I can think off is freedom. Here is my chance!
As if reading my mind, William’s eyes widen. “Nooo…” he begins to say. I don’t give him a chance to finish.
I knee him between the legs as hard as I can and dash away, determined to make my way into the tall grass where I can hide. I make it five feet before my legs give out, tingling from my toes to my thighs. Stupid! I’ve been in a car for hours! My legs are practically numb!
I jump back to my feet and take two steps before I’m tackled to the ground. William’s on top of me, yanking my arms behind my back and swearing violently enough to make a sailor cringe. I open my mouth to scream but he covers it with his hand.
“Stop it Evelyn! Calm down!” he hisses. “I’m not going to hurt you!”
But I don’t stop. I can taste freedom and I am desperate to escape. I bite his hand. He howls and slams my head down into the dirt, pulling my arms back further. I’m stunned into submission and see white dots float at the edge of my vision. We both stop moving, panting with exhaustion.
Kade curiously walks over and William looks over to him. “Grab the rope.”
I want to struggle but I am too tired. I haven’t eaten in who knows how long—two years? I have no energy to burn. Kade hands his father a small stretch of rope. William binds my arms behind my back. Taking another piece of rope, he then binds my feet together. I feel like a snared fox desperate to escape, but know there’s no point in trying. I adjust my body and face William. I glare at him with as much hatred as I can muster. He sits on his haunches in front of me and again I am reminded of an old lion. We stare at each other for a time before he speaks up.
“Have you calmed down?” he asks.
“What are you going to do to me?” I growl at him.
He scoffs. “What I’ve been trying to do all along. Protect you.”
I laugh in fake mockery. “Yeah, by kidnapping me and tying me up?
He stares with what I can guess is frustration. “If you run off on your own, you’ll be dead in under twelve hours. Every man out there is looking for you.”
I lick my lips, trying not to show just how deeply his words frighten me. “You’re a man. How do I know you aren’t trying to seduce or kill me?”
He makes an exasperated noise and stands, spreading his arms. “If I wanted that, don’t you think I would have by now?”
Nearby, Kade watches us argue with quiet amusement.
“Why?” I ask.
William goes quiet, his face growing distant. I wait for him to answer, but it is a while before he does.
“Because you’re most likely the last. Or soon will be.”
He says the words in a bland tone, as if they aren’t the real reason. There is something more to this man; something he will not open up to anyone.
“What are the plans then?” I sigh.
“For now, keep moving. Find someplace to hide. Your medical information is public to anyone now. They know you were in a hospital and they know you were under oxygen. They know you’re still alive.”
“Under oxygen?” I ask, “Why is that important? And how did they get my medical records?”
William ignores my first question and skips to the second one. “The few women left live, their records popped up on the internet somehow. No one knows who put them there. The government, some collective group of corrupt doctors: I don’t know. I saw your name and hospital address just like all those other men did. Thank God I was able to get to you in time.”
“Wait, the few other surviving women; they were all in hospitals?”
My question shuts him up. His face becomes a stone and he turns away. It’s as if he regrets even talking to me. He walks over to the truck and begins to unload what he has: his gun and ammo, the water bottles, and a few blankets.
He sets the items under one of the two skeletal trees and walks back over to me. I try to scoot away and he rolls his eyes, grabbing me and picking me up as if I weigh nothing. He carries me over to the tree and sets me down in the shade. Even though the sun is sinking over the horizon, it is still hot and I’m grateful for the slight temperature change.
“Home’s right over there, da.” Kade speaks up, pointing in the opposite direction of the sunset.
“Why didn’t we just drive a couple miles that way?”
William walks up to his son and pushes the boy’s pointing arm down to his side, looking at me with a squint.
“Because Kade, the hospital had security cameras. The first thing those men did when they couldn’t find her was to search the cameras to see where she went. It’s what I’d do. They would have seen me follow her past the fence into the park. It’ll take them time to identify me, but when they do it won’t be safe around here.
“I’m going to grab us some gear, then we’ll be off, constantly moving.”
The small boy nods his head obediently, trying to understand his father’s logic. When he gets it, he grins. “You’re a smart da! The bad guys won’t ever catch us!”
William smiles at his boy and it’s the first time I’ve seen him not look angry. His entire demeanor changes from that simple smile and I catch the smallest of glimpses to a different man. His face grows hard once more.
“Kade, you know how to use your gun. Remember what I taught you. Stay near Evelyn and protect her. I’m going over to our house for a little bit. I’ll probably be gone for only a few hours.”
The boy pats the gun strapped to his calf and gives a salute. “I can do it!” he says happily.
I can see a look in William’s eyes. Worry for his son. Is it… fear? William hesitates, then looks at me.
“You keep a lookout as well.”
I shake my bound legs. “Not like I have a choice.”
William grabs his gun and dons its strap. He nods to his son one last time and pushes his way through the tall yellow grass. The second he’s gone, I try and free myself. Kade watches me with amusement.
“Da’s really good with knots.” he comments.
He’s right. No matter what I do or how I move my body, I end up only tightening the knots further. I am left on my side, sweating and gasping for breath. There’s no way I can get loose on my own. I turn to Kade and give him the sweetest smile I can muster. I even try batting my eyes at him. The boy looks flustered and his cheeks grow slightly red.
“Kade, can you do me a big favor?” I say with a purr.
“Uh, what is it?” he asks, his voice cracking a little.
“Can you loosen these up just a little? They’re hurting my hands. Well, if you want, you could just take them off. I’m not going to run away. It’s not like I could go anywhere.”
Kade freezes, then a smile appears across his face. “Da said you’d do this! He called it…” his face scrunches up as if he’s trying to remember the right words. “flirtin’ or something like that. He then said some really bad words and something about vixens and sirens. I don’t remember. But he told me not to do anything unless he’s with us.”
I groan and blow a stray hair from my face. “It’s just some knots Kade. It’s no big deal.”
He shakes his head, still smiling. “Sorry! You’ll just have to be patient!”
I turn away from him and give him the cold shoulder. I glance back: he’s frowning. Good. Let him think he’s offended me.
But Kade doesn’t come to the rescue. Instead, he walks over to the other dead tree and sits under its shade. He watches the multi-hued sky as the sun sets and I turn my body, deciding to watch it with him. The sky goes from orange to red, then to purple. It has been over two years since I’ve seen a sunset and this one is especially good. The colors remind me of being a little girl and painting with my parents. The coma has made the memory seem far away and yet feel so recent. It’s a strange combination. Time passes and I travel between reality and memory, remembering times of comfort and security.
My eyes grow heavy in the silence and I see Kade’s head droop. I want to take advantage of his sleepiness but I feel drowsiness come over me as well. My brain is surrounded in cotton. I am exhausted. Right as my eyes close and my mind begins to drift off, the grass to my right moves.
My eyes snap open but it is too late. Kade startles and jumps to his feet, but the man that steps around from behind the boy’s tree hits Kade over the back of the head with a pistol. Kade drops to the ground unconscious and I let out a scream. The man is bald and I recognize him from the gas station.
Someone else is rolling me over onto my back and as I face the sky, a figure blocks out the dying light. It’s the mustached man that talked to William back at the gas pump. He has a smug grin and clenched between his stained-yellow teeth is another cigarette. He kneels on top of me and puts a dirty oily hand on my cheek. He caresses my face with a blackened thumbnail and I desperately thrash about, trying to throw him off. It only makes him smile wider.
“Mmmm, look how she moves Tiz, she’s gonna be a wild ride.” The words drip from between his clenched teeth like tar and I let out another scream. My heart is pounding out of my chest. I want to pee myself. The bald man walks up to us, licking his lips. He’s staring at me with wide hungry eyes.
I’m panicking, hardly being able to control my breathing. This can’t be happening!
“What ‘bout the man she wuz with?” the bald creep asks as he crouches next to me. He grabs a strand of my hair as if in a trance and sniffs it. His face seems to sag with euphoria. I’m sobbing. Beyond us, Kade’s body doesn’t stir.
“He’s far away.” the mustached man replies.
His hand travels down my face and slowly traces a line down my neck. I know where it will go next.
“Last one’s ours Tiz. She’s all ours. I get dibs first.”
The bald man frowns and looks to his partner. “But you said I could go first if I took care of the boy!”
“I meant kill the boy! Not knock him out!” the mustached man hisses in anger. “You did your job half-assed, so I get first dibs!”
The bald man rolls his jaw. “Fine. But be quick about it.”
They both look down at me and I let out the loudest scream I can. They wince at the noise, then smile even wider.
Chapter [06]: Men and Monsters
The mustached man grabs my shirt and I roll to the side; I can hear the fabric tear. I’m trying to push him off of me but it is impossible with both my arms and legs bound. There’s nothing I can do and the panic that comes from my helplessness makes me nearly black out. My brain is pulsing with an electric current of terror.
The mustached man rolls me over belly-down and my face is shoved into the dirt. My tears turn into mud droplets. I clench my teeth and shriek and he tries to get a grip on my pants.
The bald man moves forward to help his partner hold me down. They’re going to take turns. My heart goes from out-of-control pounding, to skipping beats.
A strange noise whistles out. It’s the sound of a miniature jet tearing through the air. I feel something splatter all over me. Hot thick liquid. It sprays the dirt around my muddy face. My assailants stop. There’s a thud as one of them falls to the ground next to me.
“No!” a voice shouts. The same voice swears out, telling another person to back up. I feel a hand spin through my hair and I’m suddenly yanked upwards, pain exploding through my scalp. I scream out.
The first thing I see is the bald man’s corpse. His head has a trench running across its top, splitting open the skull. There’s blood everywhere. I hyperventilate and my eyes avert. They connect with William, who’s standing twenty feet away, holding some sort of rifle up to eye level. I’ve never seen a man so angry in my life. He’s the living embodiment of rage. His eyes are wide and his pupils only pinpricks of quivering violence.
The mustached man hides behind me, using my body as a shield. I feel something cylindrical and hard press against the side of my head. The man is breathing heavily into my ear and his sweat drips onto my neck. He sucks on his still-lit cigarette as if it’s a straw.
“You’re gonna drop the gun and give me the keys to your truck. You do it or I kill her!” He says the words with a mix of terror and exhilaration. There’s almost excitement in his tone, as if he believes he’s unstoppable.
William does not move. He’s a frozen statue. I look closely and cannot even see his chest rise and fall with breath. Can the mustached man not comprehend how William is acting? William is an unmoving wall.
“Drop the gun!” the mustached man roars, teeth clenching around the cigarette. He shouts the words so loudly my ears throb.
William comes to life ever so slowly. His rifle barrel turns upward and he crouches, letting the gun rest on the dirt. He stands back up and my assailant laughs next to my ear. It’s a chuckle of relief and victory. No William! Please!
“Now the truck keys.”
William reaches into his pocket with one hand and retrieves the keys. As he pulls them out, his eyes narrow. I feel a lump in my throat. He’s going to do something; he has a plan up his sleeve!
The mustached man relaxes slightly and leans forward as William moves to give him the keys. The gun is slowly turning away from my head… William presses a button on the key fob. Behind us, the truck honks loudly, making both the mustached man and I jump. He fires his gun and pain explodes across my cheek. I drop with a shout, unable to grab my face.
William is a blur. From behind his back he pulls out a pistol. But this gun is different; it’s larger, thicker, and as long as my forearm. When he pulls the trigger, the noise is deafening. The mustached man’s hand explodes and his weapon flies off into the bushes. Fragments of finger and bone spiral around us.
The mustached man falls onto his butt, mouth opening and closing like a fish. The cigarette drops into his lap and he watches in wonder as blood squirts out of his stump like a water pistol depleting its ammo. William puts his massive pistol away and I nearly yell at him, ask him what he’s doing, before I see him unfasten a thick knife from under his shirt. I press my cheek to the dirt, feeling blood stick to my face, and watch as William stomps over to the mutilated pervert. The man notices the incoming threat and begins to scoot himself backwards, shaking his head in a frenzy.
“No, no, no! Please!”
William grabs the man by the throat, yanking him to his feet. Before I can even think to look away, William has plunged the blade deep into the man’s stomach. The assailant lets out a low groan and grabs at William’s shoulder with his remaining hand. William jerks the blade sideways and I spin away, hearing wet tearing flesh. The man’s breath becomes labored and I—don’t see—but sense him collapse to the ground.
There are footsteps and William brushes past me, dropping his maroon knife as he rushes to his fallen son. I watch, still bound in my ropes, as he examines Kade’s head, lifts back an eyelid, and checks the boy’s pulse. William’s shoulders relax and I feel a sense of relief. Kade isn’t dead, merely unconscious.
William lifts up his son and carries him over to the truck. He’s gone for a while and I spend my time with my eyes closed, crying. I relive the moment in my head a thousand times. I choke on my own sobs and the noises I make are only parallel to the pitiful sounds that come from the mustached man. Prey and predator, both rolling in the dirt. Weak.
William returns with a rag and cleans his knife. He approaches me and for a moment I believe he’s come to kill me as well. Instead, he cuts my bonds with strong precise slices. My freed arms and legs stretch out, blood rushing to recompense my pale limbs. I wiggle my fingers and put a hand to my cheek. I hiss at the stinging sensation. William grabs my hand and lowers it. He examines my face with an almost tender look. My emotions are conflicted over this man. I do not know whether to be afraid of him or grateful. Probably both.
“You’ll be alright.” He tells me quietly. “Let’s get you patched up.”
He brushes a strand of hair away from my face but I don’t flinch. His touch isn’t like the touch of the two gas station men.
William leads me over to the truck where both doors are open. I see Kade slumped inside, resting in the reclined passenger seat. He has a bandana wrapped around his forehead. I am startled by how much younger he looks when he’s not awake.
William walks away into the bushes and returns hauling multiple luggage bags—the kind you take with you on a plane ride. He tosses the bags into the bed of the truck and opens one of them, pulling out a first-aid kit. He takes out rubbing alcohol, some sort of ointment, and gauze. I nod to him, accepting his help.
The alcohol stings and makes me seize up but William works quickly and soon my cheek is taped. The slight weight of the pad that covers my injury annoys me.
“The bullet grazed you. We all got lucky.” William whispers out.
He looks back into the clearing where the mustached man and his partner lay. I refuse to follow his gaze even though it’s getting dark enough that only outlines would be visible. I can still hear the faint rustling of the dying man. William has left him to suffer.
“I got what I needed from home. Now it’s time to go.”
He motions to his car but I don’t move. I’m again conflicted by my emotions. Should I run away? I could find help with our government—with scientists and soldiers that could protect me. But…maybe there was safety with William. He had rescued me twice now; both at the hospital and in the clearing. But…even if he is a good guy, one man can only do so much.
My thoughts tumble through my mind like rice sifting through a sieve. Without coming to any conclusion, I step back into the truck. I am still tired and decide that for now, the only thing in my best interest is sleep.
I am a woman shrouded in absence. In this darkness, I am alone.
My eyes tear open like panicked prey and I attempt to breathe. Cold fury launches down my throat and I hack, violently shaking in my weakness. A contraption lifts off my face and releases its violating embrace. Screaming and explosions echo around me, blasting noise into my already-confused brain. It’s a party. No, it’s a war.
“EVELYN! WAKE UP!”
Someone’s screaming my name. A deep familiar voice: my father.
My perspective is off. White tiles and bright lights stand stoically in front of me and my petite feet point down to a figure that walks on the wall. Disorientation gives way to understanding. The room is correct, I am wrong. The figure is my father, approaching my bed-ridden form. I am laying down.
I turn my head, my neck creaking like a thousand-year-old joint. Complicated machinery greets me, showing my pulse and all sorts of other statistics. Mumbo-jumbo that can only be read by an authoritative figure with knowledge of what’s going on—knowledge I’m not privy to.
This is a hospital room. What happened? Why am I here?
My father leans above me, tears streaming down his face. He’s scrabbling frantically; yanking at tubes and cords. My panic is enhanced by his frantic movements. I feel a sharp pain on my arm and see an IV drip go crashing by.
My brain can’t process correctly. It splutters like a failing generator; trying to make sense of my surroundings. It’s all I can do to remember my name. Evelyn. Ev-e-lyn. In frustration, I mentally scrabble for the slightest fact; the smallest of recognitions. Who are you? A vision of metal lockers slamming shut and the bland smell of grease-burgers briefly flutters past. School. How old are you? Fourteen; I am sure of that. But…I don’t feel that young. I feel…I feel…
“Sit up sweetheart! Oh God, I can’t believe it worked. You’re awake! Sit up!”
My father grabs my brittle arms and props me against a stack of pillows. I flop about. I’m a newborn, weak and frail. My limbs are shaking and I cannot control them. The noise beyond the room’s sterile walls escalates. Closer. Explosions and screaming. Gunfire.
My father’s pulling out clothes from a duffel-bag and dropping them on the thin mattress in front of my feet. They’re for me, but they’re not the clothes I’m used to seeing or wearing. They’re longer, more mature. He pulls out a bra.
I look down at myself. My breasts are larger; no longer the childish equipment I used to have. I’ve filled out. I notice my skin. It’s white like cream! What’s happened to me?
My father’s face reappears, close. His eyes glint with the twin seeds of terror and urgency. He looks older, a lot older. There’s not a single spot of brown in his hair anymore. All gray. That fact makes me sad.
“Evelyn sweetheart. I NEED you to do this. If not, I can. You have a catheter. You have to pull it out and take off your robe. Switch to these clothes as fast as possible. We have to get out of here. We have only a few minutes.”
The information is too much for my brain to handle. It takes a long time for the words to make sense; for my mind to put meaning behind them. Eve-lyn. My name is Evelyn. My father’s expression grows even more terrified and he looks at the door with further urgency. I finally notice the dresser and soft chair propped against the passageway, barricading it. It looks almost childish.
I try to speak; my mouth slowly forms words. My brain is spluttering to life.
“Fa-ther.”
He nods at me, head bobbing in a blur. “Yes. Yes. I’m right here sweetheart.”
I look down at myself once more. Hospital gown. Hospital room. Catheter? I’ve been in an accident. My vision fades to white and I blink my eyes, feeling my face scrunch up. Headlights. Screeching. A car. There was a car. Or was it a truck? As if reading my mind, my father answers me.
“You were in a coma, Evelyn. So much has happened in the last two years… There was a disease. The women—the women are all dead. We need to go.
You’re the last woman left on Earth.”
Chapter [02]: Firefight
My father gives me a look of apology, then takes off my hospital gown. I’m too weak to stop him. I feel like a ragdoll as he completely exposes me then does something that makes me both squeal in pain and groan in discomfort. The catheter. My father isn’t the violator: he’s removing the violation.
He puts clothes on me, his face red from embarrassment. He finishes dressing me, body pulsing with horror by whatever’s happening elsewhere in the hospital. I look at the black and green running-shoes now adorning my feet. My mind focuses on the colors and I feel as if I’m on a swing-set.
My father grabs my hands and kisses my forehead.
“Can you stand Evelyn? I need you to walk.”
His voice and his commands are making more sense now. My brain is starting to understand his sentences. I twitch my right leg and it slides off the bed; lazy and disobedient. The other one is stubborn and refuses to cooperate. Beyond the door, the gunfire draws closer. My father hurries to it and removes the furniture blocking our way out. He straps on a backpack I hadn’t noticed before and walks back to me.
My left leg begins to move and slides off the bed. I’m now sitting on its edge. I can’t will my body to do anymore and my father is quick to take over. He gives a grunt of effort and picks me up, carrying me as if I’m his little baby once again. His arms are strong and comforting. I want to snuggle into his chest. He takes me to the door and stops in hesitation.
“Dez! You there?” he shouts out.
The door bursts open and a grandfatherly-figure steps in. He’s an old turtle of a man, carrying a machinegun of-sorts. Blood leaks through his long white coat, spreading from one shoulder. He’s a doctor with a gun. My delirious brain wants to giggle at the thought of a doctor that hurts instead of heals. I don’t know why I find it funny.
“Tom! They’ve broken through the blockade!” the man says, “It’s not just civilians now, but the military as well. They’re—they’re uncoordinated. There’s no leader. They’re panicking, believing someone else will take them—the two women.” The doctor looks at me. “They want her for themselves.”
I look at my father. Who’s doing what? A group of people were attacking the hospital? Why? They…after me? What had my father said earlier about women? A disease?
“Dez, I need a distraction.” my father asks, “Is the back stairwell still free?”
The doctor nods vigorously. “But not for much longer. They’re going to circle around and cut you off. The other woman—she’s with her husband now. I just saw them going to the stairs. Don’t worry Tom. I’ll stop them here.”
The turtlish-doctor has a determined look on his face; like a chivalrous warrior. He suddenly looks ten years younger than he probably was.
My father licks his lips. “Dez, thank you. Eternally, thank you.”
Neither man say another word. Dez turns and heads down the left side of the hallway, gun up at the ready; my father carries me down the other direction.
I see the soft red glow of an exit sign. It flickers as if losing power. The building shakes and there’s a massive rumble. I can hear the gunfire with more pronunciation. Whomever is fighting is growing more aggressive.
The hospital feels empty. Each room we pass is open and silent. The lights are all turned off. Liter and junk cover the floor and I feel as if I’m in some sort of apocalyptic movie.
My father makes it to the stairs and takes them two at a time. He’s grunting from the strain of carrying me but he doesn’t slow. I feel guilty that so far I’ve been worthless. My legs twitch with more confidence and I know that maybe now, I can stand on my own. My father notices and when we hit the bottom step, he lets me down. I am able to stand, wobbling in place like a noddle trying to stand upright. It’s as if I’ve never walked before. I use the wall to support myself and my father keeps hold of my elbows.
“Sweetheart. You need to get your legs moving. You’re going to have to run.”
“Daddy…” I choke out. My mouth feels horribly dry. “What’s going on?”
My father reaches into his backpack and pulls out a pistol. I’m shocked. My father is the most peaceful man I’ve ever met. I didn’t think he could even use a gun. The weapon glints menacingly and I feel my stomach clench just looking at it.
He holds it uncomfortably and looks into my eyes.
“While you were in a coma something really bad happened. I can’t explain just yet, there isn’t time. In your accident, one of your lungs collapsed. The machines kept you alive, feeding you oxygen. Even when you were healed I kept you strapped in. That’s what saved you.”
His words, his explanation—it’s too much to take in. My mind struggles to wrap around the implications of what he tells me. I open my mouth to release a flood of questions but he cuts me off.
“They’re coming after you now Evelyn. Do you understand? Every man out there wants you. Can you walk?”
I take a tentative step and nearly collapse. Father wraps an arm around me and begins to pull me forward, down a dark hall towards a distant door. There is no one but us.
The walk is long and difficult. I fall often. My father picks me up each time and encourages me to not stop. I feel my strength returning to my legs although my entire body shakes. I am my father’s handicap.
We near the door and my father eases it open. The noise of the gunfire grows ten-times louder. My father looks around and pushes the access a little wider. He beckons me over and I hobble closer. “I have a car parked beyond the public park. It’s just past this employee parking lot. We can make it, but we have to move fast.”
I nod to him and he kisses my forehead. “I love you so much, little Evey.”
I feel tears of fear creep up behind my eyes. I want to hide them but realize my father is crying as well.
“Let’s go.” he whispers.
We burst out into the open and sunlight hits me. It’s warm and fresh and so bright that my eyes instinctively shut. I try blinking and only end up staggering forward into a car. My father grabs my hand and tugs it firmly. He’s leading me. Holding his hand—I feel safe.
He moves fast, to a point where I dare not make a mistake and fall. My black and green running-shoes hit the ground quietly and my legs bend with irregularity as I do what I can to stay upright. I am so weak.
A man and a woman are running next to us. I’ve not noticed them until now. The woman, maybe in her forties, is holding a mask to her face. It’s connected to an oxygen tank that’s strapped to her back. She’s breathing heavily and her eyes are wide in fear. She looks at me and there’s a moment of connection between us. We are the last. We are both prey.
Her husband nods to my father and the four of us move together like a pack, heading towards a distant brick wall. Beyond it I can see trees. The public park.
There’s a fire somewhere behind us and smoke billows upward into the heavens. My feet trod on bullet casings. There are so many of them that it is impossible to not step on at least one. I spot a body laying prostrate against a car’s hood. Dark blood covers the dead man’s chest. It is a sight I have never directly seen before. Death. Not even my mother’s cancer-accountable death had been this direct. I whimper and stumble. My father is there to hold me tightly, still pulling me along.
“Don’t stop Evelyn. Don’t stop moving.”
From around the hospital corner comes a group of many men. Some are dressed in military uniform, others are dressed in regular clothing. They could have been anyone’s father, brother, or son; yet the blood on their shirts and the weapons firmly gripped in their hands make them look barbaric. Terror grips me as their eyes lock onto us.
They run, screaming and yelling, pointing at me and the other woman. Some are raising guns and aiming. I scream; my voice still so weak that it comes out sounding like air escaping a balloon. The two men in our party turn, both firing their guns at the charging horde. My father is killing men to protect me.
Bullets whiz towards us, pinging off the hospital staff cars and the ground. One comes so close to my face, I feel my hair whip about. They don’t care if they kill me; in fact, it looks as if they want to do just that. They would rather see me dead than escaping their hands.
Another group appears from around another building. They are an assortment of every type of men out there, all each carrying weapons as well. But they aren’t coming for us: they’re engaging the others. They fire upon the other group and my father pushes me down behind a car. The married couple with us duck down as well, hiding from the firefight.
My father notices my look and nods. “There are more than just bad men out there Evey. Some want to protect you.”
The man sitting next to us pants and looks at my father.
“Too bad it’s so hard to tell which is which.”
My father bites his lips and peeks over the edge of the car. He beckons us to move as he grabs my hand once more. We stand and begin our escape.
I do everything I can to will my legs to run, yet they refuse, only accepting a brisk trot. I turn my head to look behind me and see the door from where I had exited the hospital burst open. A large bearded man barrels out like an incoming storm. He’s holding an impressive-looking gun which he uses upon anyone that gets in his way. Fear makes my spine tingle. Although he’s battling, his dark eyes never change their course. He’s looking directly at me. My father notices him too and urges me to move faster.
A blur rushes forward and hits the woman next to me. Her oxygen mask flies off her face and she falls to the ground, landing on her tank with a shout of pain. Her husband attacks the man that tackled her. He doesn’t use his gun in fear of hitting his wife. Three more men catch up to us and dog-pile on top of them. They are a mass of squirming bodies trying to grasp at the female.
Someone hits me with excruciating force and I’m on the cement, my hands and forearms ripped to shreds. The pain is excruciating and shoots up to my head like lightning. I’ve never been so terrified. There’s heavy breathing in my ear and I can’t move. An ugly dirty man has pinned me down. His eyes are wild and he acts more like a dog than a man. Crazy.
“Mine. The last one’s mine.” he whispers to himself. His voice is wobbly and out of control.
I think I’m screaming.
Arms reach around the man’s throat and suddenly he’s gone. There’s a gunshot. My father picks me up and pulls me forward; he’s shouting for me to run.
There’s a squeal and a rumble; a military jeep spins around from behind the hospital. A turret on top of the vehicle peers out like the head of a bird, searching for food. The weapon is manned. Without warning, the bird-head turret aims and fires.
The sound is deafening; my ears stop working. The ground is shredded around us and the bodies piled on top of the oxygen-tank woman begin to erupt into spouts of blood. The only other female I have seen is riddled to death by the hot large projectiles. The imagery jars my soul from my body and I float beyond reality, watching the horror happen from a distant perspective. The gore is more than I can grasp.
My father yanks me out of the way as bullets form paths of death on the asphalt. I find out I can run. I move with the grace of broken marionette: my limbs flay about loosely and I feel tears stream down my face like waterfalls. My father’s head is turning to say something to me. His mouth forms the words the car is beyond the park. He doesn’t have a chance to continue. He is stopped like a TV being shut off. Sudden and final.
The turret’s bullets move from the pile of still bodies and follow us, striking my father across the chest and launching him away from me. His body smashes against a car and he drops, still. I see his gray-haired head bob once. That is all.
I cannot run to him. The bullets are already changing their course, coming for me. I have to keep moving. I’m shouting as loud as I can.
“Daddy! Daddy!”
I don’t stop moving. This is a nightmare. It has to be. My father can’t be…
The bullets stop their chase and I turn. The large bearded man that had followed us out of the hospital pulls a knife through the throat of my father’s killer. He stares at me intently, jumping down from the still vehicle—the driver is dead. The bearded man charges towards me at a full sprint. Every man that gets in his way, he kills.
I turn and run as fast as I can, my very core vibrating in parallel with the fear in my mind. Every atom within me denounces and rejects what is happening. This cannot be reality.
I make it to the edge of the parking lot and through a gap in the fence that leads to the park. I am surrounded by green shrubbery and I can smell vegetation instead of spent ammunition. The transition only adds to the ghoulish situation.
I leave the gunfire behind as trees blur past me. The park is long, but somewhere beyond it is a waiting car.
My father is dead!
The thought is violent and sudden. It makes me fall to the grass and I shake with sobs. I crawl forward on my hands and knees, kneading the soft earth beneath my pale fragile fingers. There’s a bush in front of me. I feel it and then push my way into it. I must hide. I cannot make the run to the car.
My father is dead!
I cry into my arms and feel as if I have lost my mind. This is the end of all things. All I have is my fear.
The bushes shake and my head jerks up. It is too late. The bearded man is there, yanking me out violently. I scream and plead.
“No! Don’t! Don’t hurt me!”
He hesitates and looks beyond me; back to the hospital. He turns and smashes the butt of his gun against my head. Everything goes black.
Chapter [03]: Cowboys and Captives
I can hear music rising and falling in pitch. The song is slow and melodic, arguing against every emotion that assails me as I awaken. It smells of alcohol and oil, strong scents that make me cringe.
My eyes flutter open like gasping butterflies and I observe my surroundings as quietly as I can, careful to not make any sudden movements.
The music becomes clearer and I recognize it for what it is. Country. A style I’d never liked before.
Beyond the mountains she sleeps.
My daughter so small.
In the pastures she weeps.
Waiting for my return in the Fall.
I miss her so, I miss her so.
My daughter, I miss her so.
The lyrics remind me of my father and I cannot control the amount of sorrow that washes over me. It’s an unstoppable force of sadness and it squeezes my heart in a death-grip. I shudder in my agony and tears free-flow across my face. I think of my father’s gray hair and his safe embrace. The emotion that comes with the memories drown me in a void of despair. My body moves with the sobs that escape my lips and I don’t care if anyone notices that I have regained consciousness. Let whomever my captors are kill me and end this pain.
There’s movement next to me and I feel a hesitant touch on my shoulder. I pull away in a violent act of anger and my sob turns into a hysterical growl. I feel nothing for a moment and then the hand is back, patting my shoulder once more. I move in a blur, looking up and planning to attack my tormentor. I come face-to-face with a boy years younger than me. I stop, freezing at the sight. He has soft chocolate-brown hair and eyes that only understand innocence. He reminds me of a sympathetic puppy.
The boy is wearing a child-sized plaited shirt with small black buttons like little bugs. The shirt is neatly tucked-in beneath an oversized leather belt that shows many new clumsy notches carved in to compensate for his small frame. He’s a little cowboy, no older than eleven.
He stares at me quietly and neither of us say a single word. I come to realize I’m in the back of a car, but don’t acknowledge the scene; instead I continue to gaze at the boy. I fade into his honey eyes and can no longer comprehend how I feel. In the background, the music continues on.
I can’t return to the mountains.
I have burned my map.
I miss her so. I miss her so.
My daughter, I miss her so.
The boy turns away, breaking the spell. I blink. He leans forward and taps the driver. I look to the man behind the wheel. I can only see the back of his head but I recognize the form. It’s my attacker, the bearded man. Terror consumes me once more and I push backwards against my seat as far as I can. There are no back doors for me to open, no windows I can squeeze out of to escape. The vehicle is a two-door truck and I am stuck in the back where the only way out is forward.
“Da, she’s up. She looks pretty scared.” the young boy states. He says the words hesitantly and respectfully, just like a good little soldier.
The man doesn’t reply but I see his back and shoulders stiffen. The small movement is louder than any words spoken. He is upset. Disgusted even. His hands tighten on the steering wheel and he continues to stare forward like a timeless statue.
I don’t dare say a word to him. I am afraid that if I do, he will turn and kill me. This man could do anything he wanted to me and I would be powerless to stop him. I am too weak from whatever coma I have endured and I have no idea how to defend myself if I were to be attacked.
The man twitches his head to the side as if commanding something. The boy sits back down next to me and refastens his seatbelt.
“Yes da.” he says chirpily.
I pull my legs up to my chest and push myself deeper into the corner of my seat, hiding as far back behind this man as possible. I am a cornered rabbit trapped in a cage.
I look out the window and see nothing but passing warehouses. They are large abandoned monoliths with black gaping openings better suited on creatures deep beneath the bowels of the Earth. They emanate abandonment and emptiness. There are no movements from within their wide entrances.
I look back in the direction the truck has come from. My hometown city is shrinking behind me without a sound. The overpasses and oddly-abandoned streets go from life-size to small cement arteries. They fade into the gray of the cityscape.
There are no movements. The only sign of life comes from the tower of heavy black smoke pouring out into the sky. I know the source must be the hospital. If not for the black ascending cloud, the city could be an abandoned landscape thousands of years into the future. I conclude the smoke’s movements are not a sign of life, but a symbol of death.
The city continues to shrink and we pull away from the vacant factory district; the road becomes a country interstate. Back there, my mother sleeps in her grave and my father’s bullet-riddled corpse sits bleeding in a hospital parking lot. My life—everything I have known since birth—is dead. Whatever my coma accident may have been, I determine it as a tipping point into a state of purgatory I now found myself in. Fresh tears threaten to spill over my cheeks and I wonder how I have the capability to cry more. By now I should have run out of moisture.
Moisture. My mouth is dry and my body screams out in thirst. Even in my sorrow, the baser instincts within me take over and tell me I must survive. I spot a large twenty-four pack of water bottles between the young boy’s feet and I muster the courage to open my mouth. The boy notices I am about to speak and stares at me expectantly.
“May I have some water?” I croak out. My frail voice sounds hideous. Torn and unused.
Before the boy can speak, the bearded man comes to life. He turns in his seat; a fast violent movement. I face my captor and finally make out details to his features. His dark beard and short hair are taken care-of, but not perfect. His face is the face of a man who is both handsome but yet doesn’t care one way or another whether he is admired or not. He is one who dismisses anyone else’s opinion of himself. His brown eyes show so much anger that I flinch and push myself away.
“Don’t you talk to him. Don’t you dare talk to him.” he growls at me.
The voice is like gravel and his tone is menacing; borderline uncontrollable. It frightens me so badly that my body loses control of itself and I begin to shake. What could I have done to anger him so badly?
“Da!” the boy yelps. “You scaring her! All she wants is some water!”
The bearded man turns his fuming stare towards his son.
“Kade, no more out of you. I told you not to talk to her, you hear me?”
The boy lowers his gaze and stares at his feet. “Yes da.”
The man turns around and focuses back on the road. The car has drifted into the other lane and he corrects his mistake.
I want to ask where the man is taking me. I want to beg for my life and to be set free. I want to ask him what is going on and why everyone around me is dying. I really want to ask about the women of the world and what my father had mentioned. Something about being the last female on Earth. I don’t dare to do so. I am weak and afraid.
The boy glances sideways at me and moves his head in a funny fashion. He looks like a chicken. He’s trying to get my attention. I fully face him and he sneakily reaches down, quietly pulling out a bottle of water. He extends the precious liquid to me and I’m quick to take it. In the rearview mirror I spot the man’s eyes watching us. He’s seen the transaction but has not said anything.
I open the bottle and down half its contents. The boy smiles as he watches me drink. He’s like a little guardian. I feel something towards the boy: kindness. To the man driving I feel nothing but fear and anger. I look back out the window, curl into myself once more, and watch the city finally disappear beyond the horizon. I wonder where I’m heading and what will be in store for me when I get there. The country song continues to play out.
A thousand miles to travel I will.
To be with my daughter.
I miss her so. I miss her so.
I will find her, my daughter.
Chapter [04]: Uncooperative
I try to recollect what my father told me back at the hospital.
“You were in a coma, Evelyn. So much has happened in the last two years… There was a disease. The women—the women are all dead. We need to go.
You’re the last woman left on Earth.”
The coma… I was strolling home from school, worried to death about my friend Gina. She’d broken up with her boyfriend and had acted nearly suicidal. It was just stupid school drama. I didn’t pay attention to where I was walking.
My mind plays back the sound of screeching tires. There’s a brief vision of blurred metal and glinting glass. I never saw the driver; it was just a shadowed form. My last thought was of my father: how he would be so mad at me. Then… darkness. I was free-floating.
So much has happened in the last two years sweetheart…
With a start, I realize I’m no longer fourteen. I am sixteen. The feeling it brings is a strange one. One of loss, sadness, and unfairness. I’d always wanted to be sixteen—the prime teenager age. The time where boys most noticed you.
I’d watch the older high-school girls from afar. The sixteen-year-olds with their beautiful bodies and confident smiles. All the boys they dated. Now two years of my life were stolen from me and I was now at that ‘prime’ time.
I look at my pale skin and feel my bland haystraw-hair brush my lip. Definitely not as beautiful as those girls I had observed. Not at all like my friend Gina who could get any guy she wanted. Jeez, a sixteen-year-old Gina could probably make it on the cover of some swanky magazine--
The women are all dead.
Gina is gone. My beautiful friend is not sixteen-years-old. I feel a hollowness widen inside of me. This pain—it’s the same sentiment that comes from being the last survivor of a war. It’s an emotion I can’t fully understand yet, but I know it’s changing my very being.
How did it happen; the death of women? It is almost too much to accept. But maybe my father was wrong. Maybe I’m not the last.
I want to ask the bearded man. I want to even ask the boy. I don’t dare to, not after the reaction given to me the last time I spoke out.
The truck slows down and turns right onto a smaller road. We are coming up to a gas station. The boy, Kade—it is what his father calls him—pulls himself forward into the front passenger seat and opens the glovebox. He takes out a few small boxes. The truck stops next to a gas pump.
I stare at the station. There are two identical cars parked in front. They are both worn down and old. A mustached man is leaning across one’s hood, casually smoking a cigarette. He scratches at his oil-stained shirt and leisurely watches us as we pull up. Through the glass window of the gas station I can see a bald man behind the counter also `observing us. Both are tanned and lean, like lounging dogs. I can’t tell if they’re wild or tame.
Kade, the boy, opens one of the small boxes he’s pulled out and I see its contents. Bullets. My throat tightens and fear makes the muscles in my chest contract. I had almost forgotten that my captor has a weapon.
Kade loads bullets into what I can only assume is a clip and hands them to his father. The bearded man, eyes never leaving the two lazy-looking strangers, takes the clip and turns off the car. My captor leans over Kade and pulls out the gun I had seen him use earlier. It is menacing and long, with black jagged edges and furrowed holes across its body. I have no idea what brand or type it is.
There’s a click as the clip is loaded. The two men outside don’t flinch. The one leaning across the car pulls a long drag from his cigarette and blows it out towards us. His eyes are half-shut and I wonder if he’s high.
The bearded man nods to his son and lets out a sigh. Kade smiles and pats his leg. I notice Kade has a pistol strapped to his calf. I have not seen the second weapon until now.
My captor opens the truck door and steps outside. The mustached smoker stirs and I close my hands into fists, wondering if there’s going to be some sort of fight. I’m terrified.
“Got any gas?”
The smoker flicks his cigarette onto the dirt and rubs it out with the end of his shoe. He smacks his lips. “A little.”
“How much?” my captor asks.
“Free. Money’s worthless now.” the smoker drawls. The man steps away from the vehicle and signals to the bald register attendee inside the station. My bearded captor squeezes his gun tighter and his shoulders tense. The bald man inside pushes a couple of buttons on a small touch-screen and nods back to the smoker.
“Go ahead. The gas pump’s ready.” the smoker drawls out again.
My captor hesitates, then nods to the man. I can feel my heartbeat slowing down slightly. These two gas station operators aren’t going to hurt us. The bearded man walks over to the truck and opens the vehicle’s gas lid, letting his gun hang around his chest by a short strap. He works the pump and I hear the liquid slosh into the tank. As my captor fills up the truck, the two gas attendees stare at me. Their eyes don’t blink and their facial expressions don’t change.
My bowels clench and I can’t look away from the mustached man’s gaze. I feel as if I’m staring into the eyes of a coyote. He doesn’t move, but continues to drill down on me as if he’s imagining me alone in his gas station. My toes curl up inside my green-and-black running shoes.
“So she the last one?” the mustached man asks, coming to life.
My bearded captor taps one finger against his hanging gun while pumping with the other hand. The gesture is small but speaks volumes. I am amazed by his ability to speak loud words through simple motions. He is one that can convey messages with the slightest of movements. A dangerous man. I notice just how healthy, tall, and fit he is.
The mustached gas attendee does not repeat his question, nor does he seem to take offence at my captor. Instead he pulls out another cigarette, lights it, and returns to staring at me. I cannot hold his gaze and instead look to my feet, which point to each other in discomfort. I fight to not hold my arms up over my breasts.
My captor finishes filling up the gas tank and puts down the nozzle. He gives one last nod to the gas station workers and hops back into the driver’s seat. Kade jumps back to his original position next to me. When we pull away from the station and return to the freeway, I am finally able to release my pent-in breath.
We drive for a ways in silence before my captor turns towards me. The movement startles me and I push into the back corner of my seat like a frightened rabbit. The bearded man scoffs.
“I’m not going to hurt you.”
The words are gruff and low, like the voice of a tired lion. My eyes shoot to his gun, leaning across the passenger seat. The man shakes his head in exasperation and turns back around.
“We need to do something about your hair and clothing.” he says.
“What?” I blurt out in surprise.
“You look too much like a woman. We need to change that. Men will be looking for you.”
I look too much like a woman? I stare down at my chest and blush, wondering at what he was thinking of. Was he picturing my body? Was he kidnapping me for…?
“Dammit girl, I can see your face in the rearview mirror! I’m not gonna rape or kill you! You think I’m some lunatic or perv?”
“Yes!” I blurt out without being able to help myself.
The boy, Kade, laughs. It’s a cute little sound. He grins at me and opens up a bottle of water for himself. “You are pretty crazy, da!”
The man turns and glares at his son. Kade grins back and the man rolls his eyes.
“Who are you?” I ask out, feeling my confidence rise a little now that the man had begun to talk. The car goes silent and I wonder if I’ve caused my captor to shut down again.
“Doesn’t matter. We’re not here to be friends. Right now, we need to focus on you cutting your hair and changing your clothes.”
“I’m not cutting it!” I exclaim, feeling my hair. It’s the longest it has ever been.
“Why can’t we be friends with her, da?” Kade asks. He looks to me. “I’m Kade and that’s my da, William!”
The man spins in his seat and the truck swerves a little. He gives a dark look to his son. “No more information Kade. You hear me? What was the lesson I taught you?”
Kade bites his lips, looking abashed. “The more someone knows about you, the more they can hurt you.”
He says the words in a monotone, as if it’s a boring prayer his father has forced him to memorize.
The man—now I know his name as William—nods in approval. He turns forward and rights the truck back into the correct lane.
“You want to live, girl?” he asks me. The words make me gulp and I wonder if he is threatening me. “If you do, you gonna cut your hair.”
I feel anger rise up inside my chest. This man–who’d knocked me out, kidnapped, yelled, and scared the living daylight out of me was now trying to bully me as well!
“My name is Evelyn!” I shout out. “I’m not ‘girl’ and I’m not cutting my hair!”
Through the rearview mirror I can see the man scowling in anger. He stays silent for a minute before I hear him mumble under his breath.
“At least you got a little fight in ya.”
The words are just about impossible to overhear but when I do hear them, I stick my chin out a little further. Kade smiles at me and I am almost tempted to smile back.
I push my luck and ask a question. “So what happened? To the women?” Before I can stop, other questions burst out of me.
“Am I the last? Are people trying to kill me? Why did you kidnap me?”
William’s back stiffens and he goes still. His eyes stare straight ahead and his face grows even harder, a feat I didn’t think possible. He doesn’t reply to my questions. I open my mouth to speak again and he interrupts me.
“Shut up.” he growls.
The words stab into me like a knife and I clamp my mouth shut. I go from believing that there’s a chance for safety to thinking that this man, my captor, could still very well end my life even though he said he wouldn’t.
William raises the volume on the radio and I notice that instead of music, someone is talking.
—although it can’t be confirmed. Most believe that the remaining captured females have now been killed. Experimentation, assault, or foul play are possibilities.
Backlash on the treatment of the final women has escalated to an all-time high with anarchy, rioting, and even fighting among our troops.
We've received word on three countries that have been nuked. I repeat: three nuked. The U.N. is silent so far on how that will affect our country’s security but with the infighting in our own ranks… I don’t know. I just--
The radio goes silent for a moment and I feel how dry my mouth has become. I’m quivering.
Speculation on whether we have any women left alive and in hiding run rampant. Many have reported seeing specialized government troops driving through neighborhoods and bursting into homes. They are both meticulous and thorough. The initiative—nicknamed ‘the Exxes-Search’ after the female ‘x’ chromosomes—has been extremely successful in hunting down and finding the last women alive. Similarly created groups by other countries have appeared all across the globe as various governments do what they can to preserve the last of female-kind.
“Preserve.” William scoffs. “More like splice and study.” He turns off the radio and the vehicle goes silent.
So I might be the last of my kind. The government was trying to find me. If I were the last of my gender, maybe they would be able to use my help. Maybe…
I look to William. The bearded man is paying attention to the road. He kidnapped me. That means he doesn’t want me found by the government. He must want me for something else. But for what? I gulp and a new wave of fear washes over me.
Chapter [05]: Bound
“They’re gone, da.” Kade calls out. The boy turns back in his seat and yawns.
“Good.” William replies from the front.
The truck slowly crawls out of an embankment and back onto the road. I watch as dust clouds disappear in the distance.
We had been followed by the two cars from the gas station. I didn’t know if it were the two men that William had talked to, but it had sure looked like them. I wonder what they would do if they cornered us on the road. I am almost certain they are after me. The thought makes me want to scream.
“We’re almost there.” William states. Kade cheers and gives out another yawn. The boy is tired and I sympathize with him. I am exhausted myself. It’s all I can do to keep my eyes open. We drive for what must be thirty more minutes before we cross a cattle guard and follow a trail meant for four-wheelers. The trail disappears and we find ourselves idling in a small clearing surrounded by tall grass and a couple of scraggly dead trees.
William strokes his beard and sighs. With a grunt, he turns off the car and exits. He pulls his seat forward and motions for me to step out. I look about, staring at nothingness. How can anyone survive out here? Where are the bathrooms and beds?
I move slowly, my legs creaking in protest. When I step out and feel the gentle breeze hit my face, all I can think off is freedom. Here is my chance!
As if reading my mind, William’s eyes widen. “Nooo…” he begins to say. I don’t give him a chance to finish.
I knee him between the legs as hard as I can and dash away, determined to make my way into the tall grass where I can hide. I make it five feet before my legs give out, tingling from my toes to my thighs. Stupid! I’ve been in a car for hours! My legs are practically numb!
I jump back to my feet and take two steps before I’m tackled to the ground. William’s on top of me, yanking my arms behind my back and swearing violently enough to make a sailor cringe. I open my mouth to scream but he covers it with his hand.
“Stop it Evelyn! Calm down!” he hisses. “I’m not going to hurt you!”
But I don’t stop. I can taste freedom and I am desperate to escape. I bite his hand. He howls and slams my head down into the dirt, pulling my arms back further. I’m stunned into submission and see white dots float at the edge of my vision. We both stop moving, panting with exhaustion.
Kade curiously walks over and William looks over to him. “Grab the rope.”
I want to struggle but I am too tired. I haven’t eaten in who knows how long—two years? I have no energy to burn. Kade hands his father a small stretch of rope. William binds my arms behind my back. Taking another piece of rope, he then binds my feet together. I feel like a snared fox desperate to escape, but know there’s no point in trying. I adjust my body and face William. I glare at him with as much hatred as I can muster. He sits on his haunches in front of me and again I am reminded of an old lion. We stare at each other for a time before he speaks up.
“Have you calmed down?” he asks.
“What are you going to do to me?” I growl at him.
He scoffs. “What I’ve been trying to do all along. Protect you.”
I laugh in fake mockery. “Yeah, by kidnapping me and tying me up?
He stares with what I can guess is frustration. “If you run off on your own, you’ll be dead in under twelve hours. Every man out there is looking for you.”
I lick my lips, trying not to show just how deeply his words frighten me. “You’re a man. How do I know you aren’t trying to seduce or kill me?”
He makes an exasperated noise and stands, spreading his arms. “If I wanted that, don’t you think I would have by now?”
Nearby, Kade watches us argue with quiet amusement.
“Why?” I ask.
William goes quiet, his face growing distant. I wait for him to answer, but it is a while before he does.
“Because you’re most likely the last. Or soon will be.”
He says the words in a bland tone, as if they aren’t the real reason. There is something more to this man; something he will not open up to anyone.
“What are the plans then?” I sigh.
“For now, keep moving. Find someplace to hide. Your medical information is public to anyone now. They know you were in a hospital and they know you were under oxygen. They know you’re still alive.”
“Under oxygen?” I ask, “Why is that important? And how did they get my medical records?”
William ignores my first question and skips to the second one. “The few women left live, their records popped up on the internet somehow. No one knows who put them there. The government, some collective group of corrupt doctors: I don’t know. I saw your name and hospital address just like all those other men did. Thank God I was able to get to you in time.”
“Wait, the few other surviving women; they were all in hospitals?”
My question shuts him up. His face becomes a stone and he turns away. It’s as if he regrets even talking to me. He walks over to the truck and begins to unload what he has: his gun and ammo, the water bottles, and a few blankets.
He sets the items under one of the two skeletal trees and walks back over to me. I try to scoot away and he rolls his eyes, grabbing me and picking me up as if I weigh nothing. He carries me over to the tree and sets me down in the shade. Even though the sun is sinking over the horizon, it is still hot and I’m grateful for the slight temperature change.
“Home’s right over there, da.” Kade speaks up, pointing in the opposite direction of the sunset.
“Why didn’t we just drive a couple miles that way?”
William walks up to his son and pushes the boy’s pointing arm down to his side, looking at me with a squint.
“Because Kade, the hospital had security cameras. The first thing those men did when they couldn’t find her was to search the cameras to see where she went. It’s what I’d do. They would have seen me follow her past the fence into the park. It’ll take them time to identify me, but when they do it won’t be safe around here.
“I’m going to grab us some gear, then we’ll be off, constantly moving.”
The small boy nods his head obediently, trying to understand his father’s logic. When he gets it, he grins. “You’re a smart da! The bad guys won’t ever catch us!”
William smiles at his boy and it’s the first time I’ve seen him not look angry. His entire demeanor changes from that simple smile and I catch the smallest of glimpses to a different man. His face grows hard once more.
“Kade, you know how to use your gun. Remember what I taught you. Stay near Evelyn and protect her. I’m going over to our house for a little bit. I’ll probably be gone for only a few hours.”
The boy pats the gun strapped to his calf and gives a salute. “I can do it!” he says happily.
I can see a look in William’s eyes. Worry for his son. Is it… fear? William hesitates, then looks at me.
“You keep a lookout as well.”
I shake my bound legs. “Not like I have a choice.”
William grabs his gun and dons its strap. He nods to his son one last time and pushes his way through the tall yellow grass. The second he’s gone, I try and free myself. Kade watches me with amusement.
“Da’s really good with knots.” he comments.
He’s right. No matter what I do or how I move my body, I end up only tightening the knots further. I am left on my side, sweating and gasping for breath. There’s no way I can get loose on my own. I turn to Kade and give him the sweetest smile I can muster. I even try batting my eyes at him. The boy looks flustered and his cheeks grow slightly red.
“Kade, can you do me a big favor?” I say with a purr.
“Uh, what is it?” he asks, his voice cracking a little.
“Can you loosen these up just a little? They’re hurting my hands. Well, if you want, you could just take them off. I’m not going to run away. It’s not like I could go anywhere.”
Kade freezes, then a smile appears across his face. “Da said you’d do this! He called it…” his face scrunches up as if he’s trying to remember the right words. “flirtin’ or something like that. He then said some really bad words and something about vixens and sirens. I don’t remember. But he told me not to do anything unless he’s with us.”
I groan and blow a stray hair from my face. “It’s just some knots Kade. It’s no big deal.”
He shakes his head, still smiling. “Sorry! You’ll just have to be patient!”
I turn away from him and give him the cold shoulder. I glance back: he’s frowning. Good. Let him think he’s offended me.
But Kade doesn’t come to the rescue. Instead, he walks over to the other dead tree and sits under its shade. He watches the multi-hued sky as the sun sets and I turn my body, deciding to watch it with him. The sky goes from orange to red, then to purple. It has been over two years since I’ve seen a sunset and this one is especially good. The colors remind me of being a little girl and painting with my parents. The coma has made the memory seem far away and yet feel so recent. It’s a strange combination. Time passes and I travel between reality and memory, remembering times of comfort and security.
My eyes grow heavy in the silence and I see Kade’s head droop. I want to take advantage of his sleepiness but I feel drowsiness come over me as well. My brain is surrounded in cotton. I am exhausted. Right as my eyes close and my mind begins to drift off, the grass to my right moves.
My eyes snap open but it is too late. Kade startles and jumps to his feet, but the man that steps around from behind the boy’s tree hits Kade over the back of the head with a pistol. Kade drops to the ground unconscious and I let out a scream. The man is bald and I recognize him from the gas station.
Someone else is rolling me over onto my back and as I face the sky, a figure blocks out the dying light. It’s the mustached man that talked to William back at the gas pump. He has a smug grin and clenched between his stained-yellow teeth is another cigarette. He kneels on top of me and puts a dirty oily hand on my cheek. He caresses my face with a blackened thumbnail and I desperately thrash about, trying to throw him off. It only makes him smile wider.
“Mmmm, look how she moves Tiz, she’s gonna be a wild ride.” The words drip from between his clenched teeth like tar and I let out another scream. My heart is pounding out of my chest. I want to pee myself. The bald man walks up to us, licking his lips. He’s staring at me with wide hungry eyes.
I’m panicking, hardly being able to control my breathing. This can’t be happening!
“What ‘bout the man she wuz with?” the bald creep asks as he crouches next to me. He grabs a strand of my hair as if in a trance and sniffs it. His face seems to sag with euphoria. I’m sobbing. Beyond us, Kade’s body doesn’t stir.
“He’s far away.” the mustached man replies.
His hand travels down my face and slowly traces a line down my neck. I know where it will go next.
“Last one’s ours Tiz. She’s all ours. I get dibs first.”
The bald man frowns and looks to his partner. “But you said I could go first if I took care of the boy!”
“I meant kill the boy! Not knock him out!” the mustached man hisses in anger. “You did your job half-assed, so I get first dibs!”
The bald man rolls his jaw. “Fine. But be quick about it.”
They both look down at me and I let out the loudest scream I can. They wince at the noise, then smile even wider.
Chapter [06]: Men and Monsters
The mustached man grabs my shirt and I roll to the side; I can hear the fabric tear. I’m trying to push him off of me but it is impossible with both my arms and legs bound. There’s nothing I can do and the panic that comes from my helplessness makes me nearly black out. My brain is pulsing with an electric current of terror.
The mustached man rolls me over belly-down and my face is shoved into the dirt. My tears turn into mud droplets. I clench my teeth and shriek and he tries to get a grip on my pants.
The bald man moves forward to help his partner hold me down. They’re going to take turns. My heart goes from out-of-control pounding, to skipping beats.
A strange noise whistles out. It’s the sound of a miniature jet tearing through the air. I feel something splatter all over me. Hot thick liquid. It sprays the dirt around my muddy face. My assailants stop. There’s a thud as one of them falls to the ground next to me.
“No!” a voice shouts. The same voice swears out, telling another person to back up. I feel a hand spin through my hair and I’m suddenly yanked upwards, pain exploding through my scalp. I scream out.
The first thing I see is the bald man’s corpse. His head has a trench running across its top, splitting open the skull. There’s blood everywhere. I hyperventilate and my eyes avert. They connect with William, who’s standing twenty feet away, holding some sort of rifle up to eye level. I’ve never seen a man so angry in my life. He’s the living embodiment of rage. His eyes are wide and his pupils only pinpricks of quivering violence.
The mustached man hides behind me, using my body as a shield. I feel something cylindrical and hard press against the side of my head. The man is breathing heavily into my ear and his sweat drips onto my neck. He sucks on his still-lit cigarette as if it’s a straw.
“You’re gonna drop the gun and give me the keys to your truck. You do it or I kill her!” He says the words with a mix of terror and exhilaration. There’s almost excitement in his tone, as if he believes he’s unstoppable.
William does not move. He’s a frozen statue. I look closely and cannot even see his chest rise and fall with breath. Can the mustached man not comprehend how William is acting? William is an unmoving wall.
“Drop the gun!” the mustached man roars, teeth clenching around the cigarette. He shouts the words so loudly my ears throb.
William comes to life ever so slowly. His rifle barrel turns upward and he crouches, letting the gun rest on the dirt. He stands back up and my assailant laughs next to my ear. It’s a chuckle of relief and victory. No William! Please!
“Now the truck keys.”
William reaches into his pocket with one hand and retrieves the keys. As he pulls them out, his eyes narrow. I feel a lump in my throat. He’s going to do something; he has a plan up his sleeve!
The mustached man relaxes slightly and leans forward as William moves to give him the keys. The gun is slowly turning away from my head… William presses a button on the key fob. Behind us, the truck honks loudly, making both the mustached man and I jump. He fires his gun and pain explodes across my cheek. I drop with a shout, unable to grab my face.
William is a blur. From behind his back he pulls out a pistol. But this gun is different; it’s larger, thicker, and as long as my forearm. When he pulls the trigger, the noise is deafening. The mustached man’s hand explodes and his weapon flies off into the bushes. Fragments of finger and bone spiral around us.
The mustached man falls onto his butt, mouth opening and closing like a fish. The cigarette drops into his lap and he watches in wonder as blood squirts out of his stump like a water pistol depleting its ammo. William puts his massive pistol away and I nearly yell at him, ask him what he’s doing, before I see him unfasten a thick knife from under his shirt. I press my cheek to the dirt, feeling blood stick to my face, and watch as William stomps over to the mutilated pervert. The man notices the incoming threat and begins to scoot himself backwards, shaking his head in a frenzy.
“No, no, no! Please!”
William grabs the man by the throat, yanking him to his feet. Before I can even think to look away, William has plunged the blade deep into the man’s stomach. The assailant lets out a low groan and grabs at William’s shoulder with his remaining hand. William jerks the blade sideways and I spin away, hearing wet tearing flesh. The man’s breath becomes labored and I—don’t see—but sense him collapse to the ground.
There are footsteps and William brushes past me, dropping his maroon knife as he rushes to his fallen son. I watch, still bound in my ropes, as he examines Kade’s head, lifts back an eyelid, and checks the boy’s pulse. William’s shoulders relax and I feel a sense of relief. Kade isn’t dead, merely unconscious.
William lifts up his son and carries him over to the truck. He’s gone for a while and I spend my time with my eyes closed, crying. I relive the moment in my head a thousand times. I choke on my own sobs and the noises I make are only parallel to the pitiful sounds that come from the mustached man. Prey and predator, both rolling in the dirt. Weak.
William returns with a rag and cleans his knife. He approaches me and for a moment I believe he’s come to kill me as well. Instead, he cuts my bonds with strong precise slices. My freed arms and legs stretch out, blood rushing to recompense my pale limbs. I wiggle my fingers and put a hand to my cheek. I hiss at the stinging sensation. William grabs my hand and lowers it. He examines my face with an almost tender look. My emotions are conflicted over this man. I do not know whether to be afraid of him or grateful. Probably both.
“You’ll be alright.” He tells me quietly. “Let’s get you patched up.”
He brushes a strand of hair away from my face but I don’t flinch. His touch isn’t like the touch of the two gas station men.
William leads me over to the truck where both doors are open. I see Kade slumped inside, resting in the reclined passenger seat. He has a bandana wrapped around his forehead. I am startled by how much younger he looks when he’s not awake.
William walks away into the bushes and returns hauling multiple luggage bags—the kind you take with you on a plane ride. He tosses the bags into the bed of the truck and opens one of them, pulling out a first-aid kit. He takes out rubbing alcohol, some sort of ointment, and gauze. I nod to him, accepting his help.
The alcohol stings and makes me seize up but William works quickly and soon my cheek is taped. The slight weight of the pad that covers my injury annoys me.
“The bullet grazed you. We all got lucky.” William whispers out.
He looks back into the clearing where the mustached man and his partner lay. I refuse to follow his gaze even though it’s getting dark enough that only outlines would be visible. I can still hear the faint rustling of the dying man. William has left him to suffer.
“I got what I needed from home. Now it’s time to go.”
He motions to his car but I don’t move. I’m again conflicted by my emotions. Should I run away? I could find help with our government—with scientists and soldiers that could protect me. But…maybe there was safety with William. He had rescued me twice now; both at the hospital and in the clearing. But…even if he is a good guy, one man can only do so much.
My thoughts tumble through my mind like rice sifting through a sieve. Without coming to any conclusion, I step back into the truck. I am still tired and decide that for now, the only thing in my best interest is sleep.
