by Ted Hill
“What happened to Samuel?” Kessie asked.
Somebody had made an impression. Jimmy knew Samuel would be pleased if someone ever told him. He found a chair next to Vanessa, across from the visitors. “He offered to finish up the work I was doing out in the fields. He told me you guys drove here from Iowa.”
Patrick and Kessie both looked at Chase. Chase sipped his drink, holding the cup in both hands before resting it back on the table slowly.
“We’re from a small town in central Iowa,” he finally said. “After two of the older kids died last month from the plague, we decided to drive out and see if anyone had discovered the cure yet.”
Vanessa hissed and Mark laid a comforting arm around her shoulders. The gaze they shared made it clear that the plague had been on their minds more than they cared to mention. Vanessa would never want to leave little David. Jimmy was sure Mark felt the same way. They all hoped the plague was over while silently worrying every day about its impending approach.
Jimmy squeezed the back of his neck, concerned about how sore it felt. He did a lot of work that made him sore, but still he wondered and that led to the worry.
“We haven’t heard of a cure yet,” he said. It wasn’t really a lie. Catherine might be a cure. Might. And yeah, he wasn’t ready to share her. He reasoned if Samuel thought he was selfish, he could live with that. All he wanted to do was live.
Chase stared at Jimmy for a time before glancing away with a shrug. “I figured as much, but we decided to go find out instead of sitting around waiting to die. We headed west on I-80 and never saw a soul. With winter coming on, I knew we’d better turn back soon. Patrick found some fresh motorcycle tracks leading south so we followed those here. Is this Kansas?”
“Kansas is a couple miles south of here. You’re in southern Nebraska. Samuel’s brother gathered us together and brought us here after all the adults died.”
“Where’s he now?” Patrick asked with a gravelly bass that reminded Jimmy of his dad.
“He passed away two years ago.”
“The plague,” Patrick said.
Jimmy spread his hands. “When he turned eighteen. We were hoping he was the last.”
“Don’t count on it,” Patrick said. The big kid frowned and dropped his gaze to the floor. Jimmy pegged Patrick at being about the same age. Now he was pretty sure of it.
Chase actually grinned. “Three in our town will turn eighteen this year. Patrick’s birthday is in the spring.”
Jimmy spoke to Patrick. “Mine’s April 5th.”
Patrick’s eyes were flat and heavy. “You got me beat, but not by much. April 7th.”
Chase chimed back in. “I would tell you guys not to give up hope, but we’re just a bunch of dumb kids, right? We’d need either scientists to discover a cure, or a holy miracle. Unfortunately, we don’t seem to have either one.”
Jimmy leaned back in his wooden chair. Mark still held Vanessa with his arm around her shoulder. Her face was lined with grief and Jimmy knew she should leave and spend time with her baby. Silence became the centerpiece at the table.
Chase was right about the hopelessness of discovering a cure, but the miracle was not that far away. Something in Chase’s eyes told Jimmy he knew about Catherine but wanted her for all the wrong reasons. Jimmy reached for his glass and gulped the water down, along with his resolve to keep his secret.
“Do you know why the plague only affects people eighteen and older?” Chase asked.
Jimmy pushed the brim of his cap up and scratched his forehead. “No. We don’t even know what caused it in the first place. We’ve heard tons of rumors.”
Chase scooted closer to the table, eagerness making those black pupils expand. He licked his lips. “What kind of rumors have you heard?”
Jimmy considered Chase’s curiosity, trying to read the boy’s sudden excitement but figured he just wanted to understand. “People talk about a bird flu epidemic out of China, or one of our own military experiments gone wrong. Or even a combination of the two where some terrorist group used a biological weapon against the United States, but I would have expected some sort of help from other countries if we were the only ones affected.”
Chase wrung his hands together. “All of those are very good. There’s also the alien plot to wipe the planet clean so they can harvest our natural resources. It still doesn’t explain why eighteen is the cut-off. Something biological wouldn’t just affect a specific age.”
“What then?” Jimmy asked.
“Biblical.” Chase narrowed his eyes. “Have you read the Book of Revelation?”
Jimmy shifted one sore cheek on the wooden chair for the other. “My parents weren’t big on church attendance.”
“I’ve read it,” Vanessa spoke up. “I’ve read the whole Bible several times since the plague. I didn’t witness any type of rapture.”
“Don’t you think your parents did?” Chase asked.
Jimmy pulled his cap back down wanting to end the crazy talk. He never cared for this kind of stuff. “Where are you going with this, Chase? And how long before we get there?”
Patrick dropped his meaty hands on the table with a loud thump, and Jimmy shared a look with Mark. The big kid wasn’t dumb enough to start a fight in the middle of town, Jimmy hoped, but then Chase coughed and drew everyone’s attention back to him.
“Have patience, Jimmy. Book of Revelation, chapter thirteen, verse eighteen reads: ‘This calls for wisdom. Let the person who has insight calculate the number of the beast, for it is the number of man. That number is 666.’”
Chase smiled. “Eighteen is divided by six three times.”
No one else spoke in the tension of the moment. The two other members of Chase’s group remained silent, differing in their reactions to the conversation. Kessie inspected her fingernails and picked at the dirt underneath, while Patrick’s sleepy eyes looked bored and possibly hungry, for food or whatever.
Jimmy wanted this creepy party out of his town as soon as humanly possible.
“Well, Chase, it sounds like you have it all figured out. I don’t really buy it, but at least I have a new rumor for my collection. In terms of dealing with this plague, I wish we could have helped each other out.”
Jimmy spotted an upward twitch in the corner of Chase’s mouth, and found his reflection, small and trapped, in the sickly boy’s soulless gaze.
Chase pulled a white handkerchief from his front pocket and wiped his nose. “I do, too.”
FIFTEEN
Scout
Scout checked the outside temperature on the digital display of the small Toyota pickup as he coasted to a stop in front of Ginger’s house. Three hours had slipped by and the temperature only rose two degrees, from thirty-four to thirty-six. The gas gauge hung near empty. Scout was glad he’d made it back to Independents without a long walk freezing his butt off. He would fill up at the auto depot where they kept their fuel reserves in a giant tanker truck, but first he wanted to spread a little joy.
Scout sprang from the pickup like a snake in a can, excited by what he had found for Ginger and the anticipation of her reception. A foot-pedal sewing machine in pristine condition rested in the truck bed, revealing the care and love of the previous owner. Scout also found enough needles, bobbins, thread and material to supply Ginger with her own private shop.
As he unloaded the truck’s contents to the porch, Samuel walked up and leaned against the tailgate.
“What’s up? Need any help?”
“Sure, grab that pile,” Scout said, holding bolts of fabric in shades of blue, red, and green.
Samuel hopped into the bed with the creaking complaint of worn shocks and lifted his own spectrum of colored materials. “Shouldn’t this go over to the sewing shop?”
“I figured I’d give the sewing stuff to the person doing all the sewing. Anyways, this is a gift for Ginger. They got plenty of this stuff at the shop.”
“Not you, too.”
“What do you mean by that?”
&
nbsp; Samuel smiled like a fat Tomcat climbing out of a garbage can. “There’s been a lot of interest in Ginger, lately. I understand, of course. She’s the sweetest girl in town, not to mention her curvy assets.”
Scout shrugged. “I just wanted to do something nice for her since she’s helped Vanessa with little David. You don’t have to worry about me if you got something going on with her.”
Samuel laughed. “Can you keep a secret?”
“What kind?”
“The kind that gets my butt kicked if it goes any further than you and me.”
“Oh yeah, I’m good at keeping those kind.”
Samuel squinted hard at Scout, and then he lowered his voice. “Jimmy has this huge crush on Ginger, but he’s too shy to do anything about it. I’ve been trying to figure out a way to get the two together for a while now.”
Scout grinned. “Let me handle it. I’m a natural matchmaker. How do you think Vanessa and Mark finally hooked up?”
“I thought Mark asked her out,” Samuel said, hoisting a better grip on the material.
“Please. He was scared to death, and Vanessa was no better. She kept telling me how cute he was and how much she was in love with him ’til I thought I would puke my guts out.”
“What did you do?”
Scout knocked loudly on the door and quickly regained his grip on the pile. He winked at Samuel as Ginger opened the door to her yellow house, washing them in a floral fragrance of warm air.
“Hey, Ginger,” Scout said. “I found you a bunch of sewing stuff. And you’re never going to guess who has the biggest crush on you.”
Samuel’s pile slipped from his hands and hit the porch. He stumbled off backwards and fell on the ground where he silently fumed in Scout’s direction.
“Oh my goodness! Are you okay?” Ginger asked.
Samuel jumped up and brushed off his butt. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Look at all this stuff,” Ginger said, bending down to help Samuel gather his pile. “Why didn’t you take it over to the shop?”
“You guys have enough over there already. This way, you can sew whatever you want without Molly being up in your business.”
Scout walked in and laid his pile on a large table. Potted flowers in various states of bloom lined shelves that usually received direct sunlight from the high southern windows, except on cloudy days like today. The invigorating smell permeated the house, causing Scout to feel like a little kid again. His mom loved flowers, too, and Ginger’s house always cheered him up. Flames crackled sparks over the wood in the fireplace, making the place warm and cozy.
Samuel staggered into the house and laid his pile on the table with Ginger’s help. He smiled at her nervously.
“Help me bring in the rest, Samuel,” Scout said.
“Sure.” He looked back at Ginger. “Is Catherine around?”
“She’s still in bed. She likes to stay up late. Why?”
“Jimmy asked me to check. I’ll explain when I’m done helping Scout.” Samuel caught Scout’s attention with a deep frown and motioned his head towards the door. They walked outside, leaving Ginger with her new material.
“What the hell did you just do to me?” Samuel whispered harshly.
Scout shrugged. “I solved your problem.”
“It was a secret.”
“Not anymore.” Scout laughed at Samuel’s concern for his soon to be kicked butt.
They carted the rest of the sewing supplies inside, and Ginger’s eyes grew big and shiny when they carried in the sewing machine. Scout’s grin stretched a giant curl.
“Oh, Scout, I love it. Where did you find it?”
“Mark and I raided a farmhouse up north for baby furniture. All this stuff was there, too. Everything in the house was probably kept in great condition before…well, you know.”
Ginger nodded, her eyes softened, and her lips held a sad little line. “Thank you. I promise to take good care of it.”
Scout and Samuel gently set the sewing machine down. It was a combination table, machine and foot-pedal design built when people weren’t so reliant on electricity. The black metal machine and the dark-stained wood looked classic and elegant. Scout made another round trip to the porch for the matching bench. He lifted the red upholstered seat that concealed a collection of needles, thread and bobbins.
Ginger clapped her hands and gave Scout a big hug. “This is the nicest present ever!”
“Mark, Vanessa and I wanted to do something for you. Those clothes you made for little David were really special. So thank you.”
“You’re very welcome. I loved doing it.” Ginger wiped away a tear. She sat on the bench and caressed the surfaces of the machine, spinning the wheel and clicking switches as her foot pumped the wide pedal that propelled the needle up and down.
Smiling with a huge sense of accomplishment and pleasure, Scout sought Samuel’s approval, but was greeted by a frown. “What?”
“We have visitors in town,” Samuel said.
“Visitors?”
Samuel ignored Scout and inspected a roll of bright green material, unfolding its length on the table and rubbing his hand over to smooth it out. “Ginger, can you use this to make me a coat? Like a suit coat?”
“Man, if you want, she’ll fashion you some buckle-shoes so you can dress up like a Leprechaun. What’s this about visitors? How many are there?”
Samuel turned his attention to some royal blue fabric and placed it over the green. “Maybe you could line the inside with this and make it reversible. That would be awesome.”
Scout laid his hands on top of the fabric. “Yeah, you can go from shamrock to laughing-stock anytime you want. What’s up with these visitors?”
“What’s with all the noise?” Catherine shuffled around the corner, carrying a Teddy bear by its furry arm. She wore a pink nightshirt and the top of her head was a ruffled, blonde mass as she rubbed the last particles of sleep from her eyes. The flowers on the shelves seemed to follow her every move.
She walked over and squeezed Samuel around the waist and then offered another hug for Scout. Both boys patted her gently on the back when she made her rounds. Finally, she took Ginger’s hand and led the older kids to the two couches in the living room. Everyone took a seat.
“We have some visitors from a town in Iowa,” Samuel said. “Two guys and a girl; they drove in about an hour ago.”
“Are we sure there are just the three of them?” Scout asked. “They might have other people waiting outside of town.”
“You’re more paranoid than Jimmy.” Samuel folded his arms and his face scrunched in thought. “They seem honest enough, but who knows.”
“Where are they now?” Scout asked.
“Last I saw them they were at Brittany’s with Mark. Jimmy was headed there and told me to come here.”
“Why did he want you to come here?” Ginger asked.
“He was probably worried about you,” Catherine said to Ginger. “Remember what I told you?”
Ginger shook her head at the little girl, but Catherine pressed on. “I told Ginger that Jimmy likes her, but she doesn’t believe me.”
“Why do you think that?” Samuel blurted.
“Duh, it’s so obvious,” Catherine answered. “Every time he gets near her, his heartbeat speeds up. Between the two of them it’s like a cattle stampede. They both blush and sweat, and neither one of them can talk straight when they’re near the other. Ginger doesn’t believe me, but I think she’s just being silly. If you love someone, you have to tell them, right?”
“Catherine, that’s enough! Please,” Ginger said. Her face turned bright pink, matching the little girl’s nightshirt.
Scout winked at Samuel, who was at a loss for words. Scout then steered back to the visitors. “I’d better go get Hunter. We’ll search the area to make sure their story checks out.”
“All right, I’ve got to stay here until Jimmy shows up,” Samuel said.
Catherine giggled.
“What’s so
funny?” Scout asked her.
“Ginger’s heartbeat just sped up,” Catherine said.
Ginger pinched up her face and squinted at her housemate. Scout figured anger probably wasn’t something she kept stocked in her emotional arsenal because she didn’t hold the expression for very long. Her features gelled back to normal as she switched her gaze to Scout.
“I almost forgot. You said someone has a crush on me. Who were you talking about?”
Scout jumped up to leave and pointed at Samuel. “Ask him. I’m sworn to secrecy.”
SIXTEEN
Molly
Nothing beats a hot bath, especially on a cold morning. At least Molly thought it was still morning. The absence of sunshine, hidden somewhere behind dark, gray clouds since she woke up and enjoyed her playtime with Hunter, made her judgment in time unreliable. She knew it was Saturday and her store was closed. Nothing else mattered.
Molly felt slippery and alive surrounded by bubbles. She was using soap from the town’s stockpile, but those supplies were dwindling and last week the town council talked about producing their own. Molly thought she would lose her lunch when they mentioned boiling animal fat. You would never catch her doing that job.
Hunter had found her some real bubble bath soap on one of his searches, but Jimmy stopped him from going out so far now that winter approached. Jimmy always messed with things. Molly didn’t understand what she ever saw in him. He was pathetic.
Steam covered the bathroom windows, which were rapidly icing over due to the temperature difference outside. The sink and the toilet sat in their spots as nothing more than decoration. Water no longer ran to the house so it took some effort to bring hot water to the tub. Luckily Molly now lived with someone who provided the effort.
Molly noticed the water turning chilly as the heat diminished. “Hunter, I need more hot water.”
The bed creaked and Hunter’s heavy feet pounded on the stairs. Her boyfriend was fulfilling her wishes. She laid back and closed her eyes. This was about as close to luxury as one could get in Independents.
Hunter was a willing servant, and why not? Molly had all the right tools for getting her way. He was very useful. Splashing her hands upon the soapy surface, she caught herself smiling at just how useful.