Sudden Independents i-1

by Ted Hill

  “Lidocaine,” Luis’s voice invaded his happy memory. “I know I have some Lidocaine around here somewhere.” The sound of glass clinked together. “Ah, there it is.”

  Jimmy scooped up a runaway tear and kept it hidden in his hand. He stared through the window blinds at Sunday morning on Main Street, which was empty from its usual herd of kids playing outside; chased indoors by the cold.

  Ginger gently lifted his arm. “I have to take your blood pressure.” She looped the cuff around his arm and pumped the air bubble. She counted with the cold stethoscope pressed against his muscle. The pressure in the cuff released with a snake’s hiss.

  “When did you learn to do that?”

  Ginger ripped the cuff loose. “When Vanessa had little David.” She called to Luis, “One-sixty over ninety-five.”

  Jimmy asked, “Is that bad?”

  “It’s not good,” Luis said from an open closet across the room. “But it’s to be expected in your current condition.”

  Luis rolled a metal table over with a squeaky wheel. Silver knives, needles, vials and a clear plastic tube rested on top. He nodded Jimmy’s way. “Don’t worry, everything is sterile.”

  “Yeah, that’s my number-one worry right now.” Jimmy closed his eyes again. “Let’s do this thing.”

  “Ginger, hold his arm up and keep it there.”

  Ginger gripped Jimmy’s wrist firmly. Something cold and wet brushed against his side.

  “That tickles.”

  “I’m killing germs by swabbing iodine around the area where I’ll make the incision.”

  The word incision made Jimmy shudder. A moment later, he heard clothes being wrestled on. When he heard snapping, he had to look. Luis was wrapped head to toe in baby blue with a mask over his mouth and a blue cap on his head. A clean pair of rubber gloves covered his hands. The young doctor inserted a long needle into a glass bottle and filled the syringe with a clear liquid. Jimmy clamped his eyes shut.

  “This will numb the pain,” Luis said. “It’s going to sting for a second.”

  The shot stung like a fifty-pound hornet—and did little to numb the pain that followed.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Scout

  Scout knew they were too late as he followed Hunter across the field to the farmhouse. The incapacitated truck and knocked-over motorbikes still lined the northern wall. The backdoor hung open. The kids they were after had scuttled out and were gone.

  They rode up to the vehicles and dismounted. Scout and Hunter walked with the heads down and studied the ground, following different sets of tire tracks that led from the house.

  Scout pointed. “These look the freshest. They’re also the only ones heading away from Independents.”

  “Nobody’s here,” Samuel reported coming out of the house. “What now?”

  Hunter said, “Get back behind the wheel. We’re going to follow these tracks. We’ll probably make sudden stops if we lose the trail. Don’t run us over.”

  The tracks led off to the south towards the Kansas state line. Scout shook his head. “There’s no way this group came from Iowa.”

  “Too bad your sister couldn’t get anything out of Jolanda.”

  Scout eyed the growing wall of heavy clouds. The temperature was dropping rapidly as a cold wind pushed ahead of the storm, clearing out a path with the promise of snow in the air. “We better find them quick or there won’t be any tracks to follow.”

  “Let’s go already!” Mark yelled, leaning through the window and pounding his hand on the door of the SUV. “We’re wasting time here!”

  Scout shrugged at Hunter, who frowned and revved up his bike. They each took a tread of the trail and followed it away from the empty farmhouse.

  The trail was easy to spot where it mashed down the high prairie grass, continuing south for several miles. They arrived at an old, forgotten highway with a white and black sign marked US 36. Potholes and cracks covered the gray asphalt in both directions. The trail turned west, running parallel to the highway.

  Scout didn’t hesitate. He turned with his groove and headed west.

  Hunter pulled up beside him and hollered over the noise of their engines. “We followed this highway before, remember?”

  “Yeah, but that was a while ago.”

  “Remember how it goes through a town every ten miles or so? Lots of good places for another ambush.”

  “Then we’ll have to play it safe and stay sharp when we pass through them, but I doubt they’re stopping for anything. They got to figure we’re coming after them.”

  The hidden sun left Scout without any clues to the time of day. The miles passed quickly with the flat ground providing a smooth ride next to the broken road.

  Roads were reminders of the ruined world that no longer functioned. People, or rather the surviving kids, didn’t function the same way either because they were also broken, cracked and filled with holes. Molly was the leading example, but Scout knew a lot of kids suffered. You either dealt with it or you exploded from the pressure building up over time. Molly had popped her top like a Roman candle.

  Scout refocused his attention when they approached the first town. His fingers tapped the brake and Hunter slowed next to him. The wind blew dust and half a dozen tumbleweeds through the empty streets ahead. This place could have been Independents, instead of a lifeless ruin. Its Main Street buildings stood dull and forgotten. Sometime ago, a roof had collapsed and reduced one building to rubble.

  Scout tucked his stocking mask into his collar. “What do you think?”

  Hunter removed his goggles, snorted and spat with the wind. “A bulldozer would make this place look real nice.”

  “Are you worried about an ambush?”

  “No, this town is dead.”

  Behind them the SUVs rolled closer and stopped. “What’s the discussion? We’re losing daylight!” Mark yelled.

  Hunter responded. “Give us a break! We’re not sitting in front of a heater!”

  Scout lowered his head.

  The passenger door flew open and Mark leapt out. Hunter hopped off his bike and Scout did too, knowing he would have to buffer the situation.

  Samuel followed quickly after Mark. Everyone else stayed in the SUVs.

  Mark stalked over with his fists clenched, his jaw leading the way. “What did you say?”

  “You heard me,” Hunter said. “I’m out here freezing my ass off, and I don’t need you yelling at me.”

  “We need to pick up the pace. My sister’s out there and we’re never going to find her if we keep stopping.”

  Scout silently prayed for Hunter to bite his tongue, even going so far as to look heavenward only to find black, unfriendly clouds.

  “My brother has a concussion and broken ribs because of her! So screw your crazy-ass sister!” Hunter yelled.

  Mark barreled into him, flailing erratic blows. Scout and Samuel pounced on the pile and dragged Mark off kicking, screaming and spitting.

  “I’m going to kill you!”

  Hunter wiped blood off his lip and returned to his motorbike. He rode off through the empty town alone.

  “Mark, this isn’t helping anybody,” Scout said. “We can’t keep separating you from Hunter and we can’t concentrate on tracking the kids who took Molly and Catherine if you’re yelling at us every time we stop.”

  “Scout’s right,” Samuel said. “You got to take it easy, man.”

  “Let’s just go. I trust you guys to find her.”

  “What about Hunter?” Scout asked.

  “Him, too.” Mark walked away and settled in the SUV.

  “This is messed up, isn’t it?” Samuel asked.

  “Which part?”

  Samuel turned back to the SUV. “Pretty much all of it.”

  Scout rode through town. A couple of skeletons lay on the sidewalk like a museum display showing the affects of a simple life interrupted by an uncontrollable disease. He guided his bike down the broken road to where Hunter waited.

  “Are
you all right?” Scout asked.

  Hunter smirked with a bandanna pressed to his split lip. He pulled his ski mask and goggles back down as the SUVs caught up and they all left the town as a group. Hunter led, picking up the trail again on the other side and ripping through the miles at a faster pace. This time Scout didn’t object to his recklessness.

  They continued following US 36 West. Their winter gear kept Hunter and Scout warm on their motorbikes for the most part, and the feeling of urgency did the rest. They didn’t stop for conferences anymore because there wasn’t any time. The path lay clearly ahead and they needed to catch up.

  They passed through two more ghost towns. The fourth town they arrived at classified as a city, expanding in all directions around the highway with a McDonald’s, Pizza Hut and Taco Bell that all the boys looked upon with unbridled hunger. Scout placed the Wal-Mart on his to-do list for the spring and wondered if this city had a Boy Scout troop six years ago.

  They siphoned fuel out of some vehicles near an old warehouse that backed a set of railroad tracks. Hunter and Mark stayed in their respective corners during the pit stop. Samuel handed out Chef Brittany sandwiches that didn’t carry the same appeal as a Happy Meal, but squelched their rumbling stomachs all the same.

  After the quick bite, everyone loaded up their vehicles just as big fat snowflakes spiraled out of the sky. Scout looked at Hunter and they both lowered their heads. It took two minutes and a white blanket covered the ground. In three minutes they couldn’t see the other buildings across the street from the intensity of the whiteout.

  The boys piled out of the SUVs and hurried into the warehouse, followed by Scout and Hunter, pushing their motorbikes inside. Samuel came through the door with a snowcap sitting on his head.

  “Where’s Mark?” Scout asked.

  Samuel hooked a thumb at the SUV. “He wants to keep going.”

  “He would,” Hunter said.

  “Keep that talk quiet,” Scout growled at him. “We’re going to be stuck here for a while. I don’t want to pull you guys apart every five minutes.”

  Hunter moved to the back of the building. Scout watched him clear a spot and lie down, using his backpack as a pillow.

  “We can’t ride in this weather,” Scout told Samuel. “We’d get stuck in the middle of nowhere and freeze to death. We’re lucky we were here when this storm hit.”

  “I know.” Samuel turned toward the SUV that was barely visible through the snowfall. “We just need to convince him.”

  “You kept the keys, right?”

  Samuel jingled them at Scout.

  “Good news is Chase and company won’t be able to drive in this either,” Scout said.

  “Any bad news?”

  “Only if they didn’t find shelter. Or they might be out from under the storm and leaving us behind. It doesn’t really matter. We’re stuck.”

  The snow piled up around the SUV where Mark sat alone. Finally, even he gave up and waded through the drifts into the building where the search party had found refuge.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Molly

  Molly was freezing in the truck bed with the pack of five boys. They finally came to the realization that she wasn’t putting out and huddling with them was easier ever since. The ride was smoother once Kessie started following the old road that stretched behind them like a broken ribbon of black asphalt through the withered grass. Every time they passed an abandoned town, Molly hoped they would stop. But the towns quickly faded in the distance like unimportant memories and still the brutal trip wore on and on.

  That’s when she started thinking she’d made a mistake. A vision of Hunter leading a column of Independents boys coming to her rescue kept popping into her head. She shook the thought in agitation.

  “I don’t need rescuing.”

  A sleepy boy next to her lifted his head. “What?”

  Molly didn’t bother responding. Why would she talk to the pawns of this little party? Still, she hated showing any type of weakness, and it was getting tougher with every mile. She pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them as her eyesight blurred.

  She woke from a sudden shift in momentum. Her eyes hurt as she opened them in the wintry air. The engine stopped and both doors to the cab opened.

  “Wake up, girls!” Patrick yelled. He stretched and yawned, loud and obnoxious, and shook the nearest boy. “Grab that fuel we left inside and fill us up.”

  They scrambled out of the truck, leaving Molly cold from their absence. Even her bones felt coated in ice. They had arrived in some forgotten town that resembled all the others previously passed, except for the trees that lined both sides of the street like tall, leafless guardians. Molly stood and the blood rushed to her head. She steadied herself on the cab until she found her balance. She threw her leg over the side of the truck bed and fell to the ground because her stupid foot had gone to sleep.

  Patrick grabbed underneath her arms and helped her up. “Cold out here, isn’t it?” He leered at her with his big, dumb face.

  Molly started walking, wanting to get far away from him. Her feet waded through the piles of leaves that littered the main street of this Podunk town. She hoped her internal heater would kick in before she became a permanent Popsicle. After a couple minutes, her legs still quivered, but they were a little warmer and she was still standing.

  She found Chase staring at her with his creepy eyes. He watched her all the way like she was putting on a show just for him. Molly circled around him and kept moving. There was nothing to say; he already proved himself useless.

  One of the boys ran up and handed her some food. She swallowed the bread, cheese and dried meat in less than two minutes. When no other food was offered, she sulked in silence against the rough bark of one of the nearby trees.

  A small hand gripped hers and Molly felt warmth traveling throughout her body and limbs immediately. She looked down into Catherine’s blue eyes and a stirring of guilt crept over her. She hated the unfamiliar feeling.

  Catherine gave Molly’s hand a squeeze. “You didn’t know.”

  And then it hit her. She didn’t even know what “it” was, but she lowered her gaze as tears raced down her face.

  A light glowed in the grip of their hands, as though their connection were fueled by a power source. The light seeped between the laces of their fingers and Catherine’s strange power surged through Molly. Part of her wanted to pull away, but the cold, tired portion of Molly refused. A replay of the events from the night before flipped past in her mind: the fire, hitting Jimmy and kidnapping Catherine. Was it possible that she had been responsible for all of it? Molly couldn’t turn away from the fact that she’d played a critical part.

  Light covered her body as her mind clicked.

  And like a receding tide, the light drained away into Catherine. Her face pinched on itself, tight with the struggle she was assuming from Molly. She swayed and only their hold on each other kept the little girl from falling. She raised her face and the light shot from her eyes like twin bolts into the dark clouds above. Still clasping hands, the two girls sagged to the cold ground next to the tree. From everything Molly had heard about Catherine’s earlier healings, she expected to pass out, but didn’t.

  “That wasn’t so bad,” Catherine said, blinking her eyes.

  She wrapped her arms around Molly, hugging her tenderly. Molly felt reborn from the cold numbness that claimed her since Hunter had ended their relationship. But really, she realized, her paralysis extended far beyond that moment, all the way to when she held her dying mother’s hand with confusion over her sudden illness.

  “What have I done?” she choked out.

  “Nothing that can’t be undone,” Catherine answered with a sympathetic smile.

  “But I….” Molly wiped away more tears.

  “I know. It doesn’t matter now.”

  “What can I do?”

  Catherine stood and reached out to help Molly up. “Live the life given to you. Accept things th
e way they are and then move forward to make a better tomorrow.”

  Molly nodded her head and closed her eyes. Her body tingled. Her spirit was strengthened by sense of joy that lifted her out of a dark abyss.

  “Are we about done here?”

  Molly opened her eyes. Chase’s cancerous form oozed over towards them. Even the giant trees seemed to lean back as if repulsed by his presence.

  Catherine scrunched up her nose like she’d caught a whiff of something rotten. “You’re such a party pooper.”

  “You’ve ruined her, haven’t you?”

  “That’s right. Want to know why? Because I have the power to help her and there isn’t a thing you or your plague can do about it.”

  Chase backhanded Catherine hard across the face. She spun to the ground. Shocked, Molly knelt to help her.

  Chuckling, Catherine pushed up. “Is that all you got?”

  Molly grabbed her hand and whispered, “He’ll kill you.”

  Catherine winked. “I need you to run.” She kissed Molly’s cheek and gently shoved her away.

  Molly touched the warm spot that Catherine’s lips left behind. “What?”

  Catherine spread her hands, palms down, under the leaves and touched the ground. A rumbling quake shook the surrounding area and the trees rustled with growing agitation. The street exploded with flying dirt and debris as a multitude of long sinuous roots tore from the earth, knocking Kessie, Patrick and the other boys off their feet. With a scowl on his face, Chase raised a hand and the tree root aimed at him shriveled and died.

  “Run, Molly!” Catherine yelled.

  Molly sprinted, her legs churning as though she risked losing everything. She scrambled over the crumbling remains of a building and turned at the first corner. Cold air filled her lungs, but something deeper fueled her need to escape.

  Houses dotted the neighborhood ahead of her and Molly ran behind one, breaking the line of sight so her pursuers couldn’t tell which way she’d gone. She scurried from house to house using large evergreens and untamed shrubs for cover.