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She couldn’t run, couldn’t find shelter…
And then she froze, her bare feet adhering to the floor. There it was again.
It was not her imagination.
THE LAST MAN ON EARTH
Raine Weaver
90
There, between the death moans of the tree and the galloping thunder--there was the same mournful sound that she’d heard before, drifting up from the bowels of the house.
And it was not the wind. She was sure of that—and of what to do now.
*
*
*
“Easy, baby. Steady as she goes. There’s a good girl.”
Russell cooed softly and patted the dashboard of the car as if he were comforting a skittish pet.
He had stopped in the middle of the road, allowing himself a moment to breathe and to still his hyperactive heartbeat. It was a relief to be able to stop; he’d only managed a few hundred yards, and even that had felt like sailing a glider on glass.
The hill from his house seemed longer than it ever had this day.
Perhaps it was because he was preoccupied with other things.
Generally, he wasn’t one to worry. It was pointless. Life took care of itself. And even today, with his world turned upside-down, he wasn't really worried.
He was afraid.
THE LAST MAN ON EARTH
Raine Weaver
91
He’d never been so macho that he couldn’t be honest with himself. The slow drive down the hill was scaring the shit out of him.
There seemed to be no road, nothing for the tires to cling to.
And the storm seemed to have worsened. He was surprised to see the small aluminum storage shed that housed his riding mower and gardening equipment still stood intact on the opposite edge of his hill; but the small amount of road he’d managed so far had been littered with broken branches, and icicles grew between earth and trees, like the path through a gigantic, frigid cave. Other than his sighting of a small red car, eerily driverless and abandoned on the side of the road, there was no sign of animal life, no trace of the rabbits or deer who frequented his property. Even the birds had deserted the skies.
They’d taken shelter, of course, as anything in its right mind would do. He was the only lunatic on the loose, trying to verify the continued existence of the human race—if it still deserved to exist.
But this was not what frightened him. It was the gangly little girl who’d grown into a woman and secretly stolen his heart that scared him.
THE LAST MAN ON EARTH
Raine Weaver
92
She had confessed to having a childhood crush on him. Was it possible that those feelings were still there, that they ran deeper than the friendship he’d thought?
“She was just frightened. This shit is suicide. And I’m an idiot.
Let’s go, sweetheart.” With the Jeep in low, and his boot barely an inch off the brake pedal, he continued his creeping pace down the decline.
Unfortunately, that truncated bit of conversation changed his life nearly as much as the snippet of news from the television. He knew he loved her. The idea of marriage had occurred to him more than once. But as long as she just thought of him as a ‘friend’, it was hopeless. What was he going to do--casually bring up a conversation and propose out of the blue?
She’d never take him seriously.
And there was always the chance that he might convince her with time—but he couldn’t wait. He needed to touch her, to feel her respond, to lose himself inside of her, and he needed it now. The desire he felt for her far outweighed any sense of practicality.
And once he’d gotten her into his bed, he could gradually establish a more serious relationship.
THE LAST MAN ON EARTH
Raine Weaver
93
However…
If it was possible that she already loved him…
Like a cat who’d suddenly decided to chase it’s tail, the car made a sharp turn, did a three-sixty on the ice, and settled back on course, it’s nose straight, the tires mere feet away from where they began.
Russell opened his mouth to curse, realized it was too late, that the vehicle had already righted
And then she froze, her bare feet adhering to the floor. There it was again.
It was not her imagination.
THE LAST MAN ON EARTH
Raine Weaver
90
There, between the death moans of the tree and the galloping thunder--there was the same mournful sound that she’d heard before, drifting up from the bowels of the house.
And it was not the wind. She was sure of that—and of what to do now.
*
*
*
“Easy, baby. Steady as she goes. There’s a good girl.”
Russell cooed softly and patted the dashboard of the car as if he were comforting a skittish pet.
He had stopped in the middle of the road, allowing himself a moment to breathe and to still his hyperactive heartbeat. It was a relief to be able to stop; he’d only managed a few hundred yards, and even that had felt like sailing a glider on glass.
The hill from his house seemed longer than it ever had this day.
Perhaps it was because he was preoccupied with other things.
Generally, he wasn’t one to worry. It was pointless. Life took care of itself. And even today, with his world turned upside-down, he wasn't really worried.
He was afraid.
THE LAST MAN ON EARTH
Raine Weaver
91
He’d never been so macho that he couldn’t be honest with himself. The slow drive down the hill was scaring the shit out of him.
There seemed to be no road, nothing for the tires to cling to.
And the storm seemed to have worsened. He was surprised to see the small aluminum storage shed that housed his riding mower and gardening equipment still stood intact on the opposite edge of his hill; but the small amount of road he’d managed so far had been littered with broken branches, and icicles grew between earth and trees, like the path through a gigantic, frigid cave. Other than his sighting of a small red car, eerily driverless and abandoned on the side of the road, there was no sign of animal life, no trace of the rabbits or deer who frequented his property. Even the birds had deserted the skies.
They’d taken shelter, of course, as anything in its right mind would do. He was the only lunatic on the loose, trying to verify the continued existence of the human race—if it still deserved to exist.
But this was not what frightened him. It was the gangly little girl who’d grown into a woman and secretly stolen his heart that scared him.
THE LAST MAN ON EARTH
Raine Weaver
92
She had confessed to having a childhood crush on him. Was it possible that those feelings were still there, that they ran deeper than the friendship he’d thought?
“She was just frightened. This shit is suicide. And I’m an idiot.
Let’s go, sweetheart.” With the Jeep in low, and his boot barely an inch off the brake pedal, he continued his creeping pace down the decline.
Unfortunately, that truncated bit of conversation changed his life nearly as much as the snippet of news from the television. He knew he loved her. The idea of marriage had occurred to him more than once. But as long as she just thought of him as a ‘friend’, it was hopeless. What was he going to do--casually bring up a conversation and propose out of the blue?
She’d never take him seriously.
And there was always the chance that he might convince her with time—but he couldn’t wait. He needed to touch her, to feel her respond, to lose himself inside of her, and he needed it now. The desire he felt for her far outweighed any sense of practicality.
And once he’d gotten her into his bed, he could gradually establish a more serious relationship.
THE LAST MAN ON EARTH
Raine Weaver
93
However…
If it was possible that she already loved him…
Like a cat who’d suddenly decided to chase it’s tail, the car made a sharp turn, did a three-sixty on the ice, and settled back on course, it’s nose straight, the tires mere feet away from where they began.
Russell opened his mouth to curse, realized it was too late, that the vehicle had already righted
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