Jaguar in the Drive and Other Stories

By P. Somers

The first story draws on the author's own experience of meeting a jaguar in the wild in 1961, just after a hurricane in Belize. Another explores a female protagonist's reaction to waking in a ghost town; she finds solace in the companionship of a dog. One character is uprooted when her family moves from Russia to America, causing her to completely change the way she lives when her father becomes involved in political upheaval.

This is a selection of unique, entertaining short stories about a variety of women and their adventures into the unknown. In each tale, dramatic changes in circumstances lead to the women changing their environment and having to drastically adapt to their new surroundings. The author draws on his experience of living in a family full of females while he was growing up, to create believable and engaging female characters. He considers this collection to be an odyssey, with each story taking place in unfamiliar territory, a world away from what is known to the protagonists.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Troubador Publishing Ltd
• Release date: May 30, 2014
• ISBN: 9781783065653

Book preview

School

Jaguar in the Drive – She

‘You didn’t close the gate properly. Can’t you hear it?’

I’d been having a pleasant dream and didn’t want to wake up.

‘Well?’

Now that sounded like a command. I stirred and turned to her (who must be obeyed). ‘Well?’

‘Aren’t you going to go and see to it?’

‘See to what?’

I could have sworn she growled. Then, ‘The gate. It’s banging.’

I heard it now. Well, I was awake and… ‘Okay. I’ll go and close it.’

I rose and padded barefoot down the wooden stairs. I hurried across the cold, tiled floor to the door and was just going to open it when I saw something in the cold moonlight.

I stopped and put on the deadbolt, which I had forgotten. I wasn’t going out there.

It was a jaguar; a beautiful specimen. And it was lying in the middle of our driveway, looking directly at me.

I turned away and padded back upstairs and climbed back into bed.

‘I can still hear it.’

‘The driveway is blocked.’

She sat up. ‘What do you mean?’

‘There is a jaguar in the way.’

‘You wish. And I’m Angelina Jolie. I saw you looking through those car brochures at the auto dealership.’

‘I thought you did, love of my life. It’s not one of them: this is the real thing, furry and spotted.’

She was wide awake and halfway to the door. ‘Well, come on.’

I knew if I didn’t that I would never hear the last of it. I paused to collect our slippers and followed her.

She was by the door. ‘He is beautiful.’

How did she know it was a he?

I handed her slippers to her.

‘Oh, what are these for?’

‘The tiles are cold.’

‘Oh.’ She was engrossed in our visitor.

I started to feel cold. Although Belize is tropical our newly built house was at 3,000 feet above sea level, on the southern edge of the Pine Ridge, where moonlit nights can be chilly.

‘Let’s go back to bed.’

‘What?’

Well, that was the end of that idea. I went and fetched two comfortable chairs from the kitchen.

She sat and thanked me.

Later, I made a pot of tea. She smiled as she took her eyes off our visitor for a nanosecond.

Dawn arrived, preceded by Venus. It was six thirty.

Our visitor rose and padded across to the Indian plum, which she had successfully transplanted up here.

Suddenly there were two jaguars.

A female… and she’s pregnant. It must be a woman thing.

Our visitors left by our gate, and went out on to that mud track known as Naval Road. They crossed the road and disappeared from our view.

She was up and unlocking the door. ‘Glad to see you locked it.’

I didn’t comment.

We walked across Naval Road and looked down the long grassy slope that fell to the Makal River 2,000 feet below. The jaguars were already 500 feet down. One of them paused and looked back at us. But only for an instant; not at all interested.

We watched until they disappeared into the trees that bordered the Makal. They were heading south.

I looked to the south and saw ridge after ridge rising from cloud-filled valleys, of rainforest – known as the Chiquibul Forest reserve – that stretches nearly two hundred miles to the Guatemalan border to the south.

Today was January 1st 2001, the start of a new millennium. Would there still be jaguars when the next millennium arrived? Would there be humans? The jaguars deserved it. We didn’t.

THE END

The Last Woman – Rebecca Jones

It was still dark when I woke. I could hear the parakeets in the trees at the north end of the apartment building. Dawn couldn’t be far away. I stretched and climbed out of bed. I did my thirty minute exercise routine. Finished, I slipped off my 3X size shirt. It was light now as I opened the closet door and checked out my shape in the full-length mirror. I was pleased with what I saw; I was slimmer and harder than when I had been at Hooters. If I hadn’t worked on my figure while I was at Hooters I would have eventually lost the job, not that there is a Hooters any more, or anything else.

***

It was nine months since whatever it was had happened. I cast my mind back to that day. I had been home for three days, taking medication for a virus. I felt good: the virus had obviously run its course. It had been morning and I was late; I had slipped out of bed and walked out to the living room and looked out of the large window. It was Tuesday, or at least I thought it was.

The large Catholic church across the street was quiet. Well, it wasn’t Sunday when even the sheriff had a patrol car parked there. The Catholic school up the road was also quiet; the children would be at their lessons.

I switched on the TV then went into the tiny kitchen and filled a bowl with muesli. The gallon milk container wasn’t chilled and the fridge light hadn’t come on. I would have to call the manager.

Back in the living room I sat before the TV and looked at a blank screen. I put down my breakfast bowl and picked up the remote. I enjoyed watching and listening to Daryn Kagan on CNN. She always came over as someone who would be a good school teacher, in both dress and speech… which is what I intended to be when I graduated from FAU (Florida Atlantic University). The job at Hooters helped pay for my studies.

The remote remained that: remote. I rose and tried the TV buttons. Nothing. Next, I tried a light switch. Nothing. Something must have tripped. I went to the small closet opposite the kitchen, where all the wires and the AC controls were. All the switches were in the on position; everything looked fine but just in case I flipped them up and down. Not a thing happened. Even the AC remained silent. I really would have to call the manager, but first… my muesli. I collected the bowl and sat by the window and munched.

It was my first solid food in three days and I took my time. I leaned forward to see our small car park. Yuli’s red GT wasn’t there yet; she had gone to Harvard to see her father… should be back today. The street below was empty; you could say dead. Ninth Street is not a major road but it is a through route to a number of gated communities, and not one car had passed by. And no one had gone into the church or come out, which was unusual. Catholics must be a bad lot, with many sins to confess. Like the girl who was a regular… she came on a bicycle in very tight shorts (even briefer than my Hooters ones) and always at midday – which it now was – but she hadn’t shown up. Nor had Midnight Minnie, an elderly lady who lived nearby. She went in the church at all hours. She even tried to enter it when it was locked for the night. I often wondered what sins these two were committing.

This was all very strange, but maybe it was a holiday. I went and fetched my diary; if my brain was working it was Tuesday and that would make it March 17th, St Patrick’s Day. That church should be buzzing.

Maybe I was dreaming all this. Okay, I thought, then I shall go back to bed and sleep until normality returns. But first I tried the telephone. Nothing. That was it. I didn’t feel tired and I had to do something.

I went back to the bedroom and put on my baggy shorts, sports bra (so I wouldn’t bounce too much… well, I was a Hooters girl) and, of course, my new adidas trainers. Then out I went leaving my key under the next apartment’s mat. I went down the stairs in my usual fashion. Dad used to laugh, but warned me that I would break something one day. Mom, trying not to smile, would say, ‘Use more decorum, Becky. You are a young lady now.’ Home was in Blanco, Texas, a small town on the edge of the Hill Country. I had been home for Christmas and I usually phoned them each weekend, but the weekend just gone I hadn’t. I would phone them this evening, and we would laugh at my worries.

I walked past the flower beds and the small patch of green lawn and turned right up the road. There were few sidewalks on this route, so I walked on the left side of the road. I was making for Holiday Park, where whatever time of day it was there would be walkers, joggers, rollerbladers… whatever. And even the nice young man I met a week earlier… he had been practising kicking a rugby ball. I do know what rugby is; my father is from Wales.

I was a block from the park when this large red dog almost knocked me over. It was Sean. Well, that was my name for him. He was an Irish Setter. He wasn’t usually this exuberant but today you would have thought it had been years, not four days, since we had last met. Still, I made a fuss of him.

Sean came all the way to the park with me; he usually left me at the end of his street. I stepped over the low fence that marked the park boundary. Sean jumped over and continued across the grass with me. I was glad of the company as so far I appeared to be the only one there.

We passed the war memorial building and the sports fields opened up before us, empty.

Something was wrong, if this was a holiday there would be hundreds of kids taking part in matches. The soccer pitches would be full with girls’ teams, ranging in age from ten to sixteen. There were no girls, nor any other human.

I was being silly. I had to be dreaming. I knelt down and hugged Sean; he felt warm and real. Then he licked my face. I put my hand to my cheek. It was wet. I began to cry, why I didn’t know. Sean nuzzled my neck, his expression sad. He knew, Sean knew… they had all gone.

***

Sean came home with me; it was his presence that kept me sane.

Back in my apartment – after we had knocked on all the other doors of the three storey building and no one had answered, not that I had expected it – I first made Sean comfortable. In the park he looked as if he had not been eating.

I went into the kitchen to make a meal and discovered that the stove had no gas and of course the microwave didn’t work. I threw out the beef – it smelled bad – and used a sealed packet of beef salami to make sandwiches on dry bread. I gave the leftover salami to Sean. It went in seconds.

It was getting dark when I ate the sandwiches at the table by the window. I could see the sun sinking, then I realised I was waiting for something. Then it hit me; the street lights weren’t coming on.

I looked down at Sean, who was resting his head on my thigh. We had better get some lights for tomorrow night, Sean. And that was the start of our survival.

***

The next day we went shopping to the nearest Publix. The door was open and it was not too dim but there were some worrying shadows. I found the torches and batteries then went round the aisles with a cart. I only chose tinned and dry goods and thankfully found powdered milk. Then I added two gallons of drinking water and went to the nearest checkout. I made a list of what I was taking and signed it, writing my name and address on it. Then I went back down the aisles and fetched a large bag of dog food and added it to the list.

We crossed the road, Federal Highway One, and pushed the cart up the road towards Sunset until we reached Sears, which we entered. The camping section was at the back and I found what we needed: a camping propane stove and lanterns and spare propane bottles.

Then it was back to the apartment. I fed Sean and made a meal for myself. Afterwards I took out a new writing pad and, sitting by the window, began to try to reason out what had happened:

1. Everyone had disappeared. Why?

2. I was still here. Why?

3. I had seen other dogs, and cats and birds. It wasn’t just Sean and me; they hadn’t disappeared. Why?

4. What about cities other than Fort Lauderdale? Had everyone disappeared?

5. What about other countries?

I sat looking at what I had written for some time. It wasn’t a wonderful document but it did say what I knew and what I didn’t know. Number two was the one that stood out: why was I still here? Was I someone special… me, Becky Jones? Was this something like in the Bible when Sodom and Gomorrah were destroyed? Even Lot’s wife didn’t escape because she wanted to return.

Had I been chosen like Lot and his family, and if so why?

I wasn’t anyone special; I was twenty-two, wanting to be a teacher. Was that it, because I wanted to be a teacher… but who would I teach?

What kind of teacher would I have become? I hadn’t been good at maths and had specialised in the subjects I was good at: geography and history. My bachelor’s degree had been a joint one in the two subjects. I liked other subjects; literature, art, music and even religion. I could have taken classes in all those subjects. But who was I to teach?

Noah took others with him; I didn’t have anyone but Sean. Maybe others would find me and eventually we would repopulate the earth. Well, I couldn’t say I hadn’t had thoughts about adding to the population, like with that nice young man with the rugby ball. But I hadn’t gone further than think. Physically I was still a virgin. Was that it?

I suppose in one way I was special; I would say a rarity. Being a virgin at twenty-two was rare. And it wasn’t that I put men off, or because I was ugly; I wouldn’t have got the job at Hooters if that had been the case, and I was friendly. But my objective was to become a teacher first, not a mother.

But there must be thousands if not millions like me, men as well as women. Men can be virgins, can’t they? Well, I would have to find them.

How?

Yep, that is the question. Do I just wait here in my little nest for the others to come and find me? What if there are already groups of survivors… would they bother to look for more? Well that settled it, I would have to do something about finding them.

Where should I start? The world is a very large place; I should know, being a geography graduate. Well, I had already covered Holiday Park and my immediate neighbourhood. How about the rest of Fort Lauderdale, Broward County, the state of Florida, the USA, the world?

Okay… I’d have to start small… Fort Lauderdale and Broward County. But how? It would take days to cross the county. I didn’t have transport because someone had stolen my bicycle. I had seen a few bicycles lying by the sports fields; there was no one to mind if I borrowed one. But it wouldn’t be fair on Sean, expecting him to run behind, and if I left him behind would he be there when I returned? I needed Sean, probably more than he needed me. So we needed a car. I could see one now from my window. It was parked?… left?… in the middle of Ninth Street, outside the school.

I took Sean with me. We cautiously approached the vehicle; I was behaving as if I were going to steal it. It was a small Toyota. I checked through the windows; it was empty except for a baby’s car seat fastened to the rear seat. That shook me. I had not considered that babies had disappeared too; I almost didn’t try the door.

Then my practical side took over. It wasn’t locked and there was a key in the ignition. Sean pushed by me, jumped in, settled in the front passenger seat and looked at me with enquiring eyes. ‘Why are you waiting? Let’s go,’ he was telling me. I laughed for the first time since I had woken up to this new world.

I slipped into the driver’s seat. I didn’t have to adjust it; I settled in, checking where everything was. The gear lever was in drive; I pushed it forward into park. Then I turned the key and watched the dials: the fuel registered half full. I looked at Sean. His expression said, ‘What’s taking you so long?’

I turned the key all the way. The starter whirred and then the engine fired. I released the key and sat back listening to that comforting engine noise.

We drove south on Federal Highway One (US1)… that was until we entered the tunnel that runs under New River. It was full of water. I reversed out – a task that would have been impossible on a normal day. There would have been multiple car crashes and a backup of many miles. I turned and drove back north to Broward Boulevard and turned west.

I kept stopping at traffic lights (which weren’t lit any more), then only as my confidence grew I slowed down.

We drove out to Sawgrass, the gigantic shopping complex. The enormous car park was half full as usual. I had to push open the automatic door. Sean raced ahead of me. Suddenly alone, it became eerie; I called Sean back and hugged him to calm my nerves.

I hadn’t brought a torch so we didn’t stay long. We left by a different door and couldn’t find the car. Then it hit me: I could take any of the hundreds there. I’d never been a car person (whatever that means), so it wasn’t easy choosing.

We ended up with a Ford Explorer. I had to adjust the seat forward. It ran out of gas halfway back to my apartment. We finished the journey with a Ford Ranger.

The next day we drove to Borders on Sunset. I had a sad moment as I entered and saw the desk under the central stairway where Alice used to sit. It was empty. Alice, a retired teacher, was in her late sixties. She always obtained the books I needed for my courses.

I walked past her desk and continued to the travel section on the far side. Sean went exploring.

I selected maps and books for Florida. Then went to Alice’s desk and began to write out the list of what I was taking. I stopped writing: nobody would ever see it. Then I thought of Alice. She would tut tut me, saying, ‘A good job is a finished job.’ I cried at the memory, then completed the job.

Sean joined me at the door; he wasn’t going to be left behind. We went home via the A1A and the new 17th Street bridge; fortunately it was closed to boats, so it was open for cars.

I saw some boats moving and stopped quickly and got out. They were moving but not under power, just drifting. No sign of crews.

Back in the apartment I had lunch and gave Sean two biscuits. ‘Dogs should only be fed once a day,’… that’s what my father drummed into me whenever he caught me feeding our dog tidbits.

Afterwards I spread out the South Florida map. There was no way I could search every street; I would drive through the main areas of population. South was Miami;I would use