Last Woman Read Free Page B

floated down the river, it wasn’t conceivable that I was the only one who remained. I was convinced of that. Convinced there was help and others out there, I just needed to get out of the section of the city and across the river to find them.

6. Slight Remembrance
    I’d be lying if I said my own thoughts didn’t scare me. I created something that wasn’t there, noises that didn’t exist, and shadows that were impossible.
    Locked in the cab of that truck, I lost count of how many times I turned the interior light on and off. Society put the crazy thoughts in my head. Movies to be exact. Not that I was a fan, but I had seen the movies, laughed them off and dismissed them. But truth be known, a part of me did fear seeing a staggering recently risen person out for my blood. Or even a crazed virus infected person racing madly toward me with no regards to their own pain.
    Although if the dead were to rise, I would have been corned beef hash having woken up amongst thousands of bodies.
    I tried to get some sleep, but that wasn’t happening. I wasn’t feeling well at all. My legs were weak, my stomach cramped and I swam in nausea. It had to be from eating. My system wasn’t processing it. I hadn’t a clue when they dumped me in the pile.
    I was still trying to figure out how that happened. Apparently, by the mark on my hand and also the bend of my arm, I was receiving medical attention.
    What turned? What made them think I was dead? Maybe they didn’t know, didn’t check or even cared. I was one less person to care for and deal with. Get rid of me, toss me, I wasn’t going to survive. No one would know anyhow.
    Sitting there in the truck, juggling between trying to sleep, jumping in fear, and reading the notes of the soldiers, I started to recall that night. That last night with Christine and Amber.
    I wasn’t on a downer that night, I was in my new state, comfortably numb, lacking emotions and not really caring if I lived or died. How ironic, considering I was struggling to survive since I rolled from the heap of bodies. Wanting to live. How long I’d be that way, remained to be seen.
    That night though, I was already drinking when they arrived. I wasn’t drunk, not by a long shot. My steady diet of bourbon made me feel invincible to the stuff and almost as if I built up an intolerance to getting good and drunk.
    Christine made me laugh. She always did. Perhaps that was why I avoided talking to her over the phone or seeing her since the accident. Amber was solid and motherly, she fed into my depression. Not Christine, she didn’t even need to try and she’d make me laugh. She was that person that lit up a room, just by walking in. Her sarcastic humor, witty one liners. She didn’t need to try, she was a natural and I just didn’t want any part of smiling.
    We hit the hibachi place, I barely ate, but did about four shots of Saki and then we went to our favorite hangout. A lot of younger people, and we enjoyed their energy and antics.
    But on that night, the typical Saturday night ‘having a blast’ crowd was thin.
    There were tables, lots of tables.
    “Where is everyone?” I asked. “It’s dead in here tonight.”
    “News is saying stay inside.” Amber said.
    “Oh my God, please. It’s the flu.” Christine snipped. “The flu. This happens like every five years, they act like this is the big one. Remember SARS?”
    “MERS, too,” Amber added.
    “And don’t forget the great return of The Swine Flu.” Christine poured me a drink from the pitcher.
    “I got my shot.” Amber stated. “But that was in November.”
    Christine laughed about that for some reason. A forty year old woman shooting alcohol from her nostrils in a snort of a laugh. “It’s not even cold and flu season.”
    The flu.
    I know I didn’t have it, not that night. What happened to me had to simply be alcohol poisoning. I overdid it. The room started to spin, my hands went numb and despite what I thought I was saying, what came