Sudden Independents i-1

by Ted Hill

  A couple of blocks in, she jumped a chain-link fence and rushed to the back of a white-sided house. Opening the door with a rusty-hinged squeal, she slipped inside.

  The dried-husk of a dead man sat at the table, dressed in a suit as though he were about to leave for church when death came knocking. Molly cringed past the remains and entered the front room of the house. Kneeling beneath the window, she lifted the blinds an inch to peek out. Boys searched for her in the distance. Patrick walked behind them, shouting orders and pointing out different directions.

  The truck drove up to Patrick with Catherine seated between Chase and Kessie. Chase spoke to Patrick, who yelled for the others to return; they were leaving. Patrick’s expression soured when Chase directed him into the truck bed with the other boys.

  Molly stared at Catherine, wishing she would save herself. Molly was sure she could if she wanted. Catherine could do anything. Why was she letting Chase take her?

  Catherine looked directly at Molly and smiled. The truck sped off, laying a big trail of dust and leaving Molly all alone. Sadness overwhelmed her, and yet for the first time in her memory, she felt genuine. She cried for Catherine until her tears ran out, and then she slept.

  Late March

  TWENTY-NINE

  Hunter

  Hunter rubbed the fuzz covering his scalp while waiting for dinner in a survivor settlement on the outskirts of Denver, Colorado. He wasn’t convinced about his new look. He missed the way his hair used to lay on his collar and how it would billow in the wind. Now he just felt naked. There was still enough winter cold to make him regret the loss for more practical reasons than vanity. He lowered his hand and sighed as he scanned the crowd outside the cafeteria one more time.

  Ginger hooked her arm in his and laughed softly. “You’re never going to forgive me, are you?”

  “It’s not your fault Jimmy made you cut all my hair off. I just can’t believe I let you. I haven’t seen one other kid with hair this short.”

  “Molly gave me the idea from a fashion magazine. Short hair used to be in style.”

  “I feel like a dope.”

  Ginger faced Hunter and arched an eyebrow. “I like it. You have to admit it’s a pretty good disguise.”

  “So is putting a dress on Jimmy, but that idea got shot down real quick.”

  Ginger laughed. “Your brother would make a lousy girl. He’s too gangly, and he walks like a boy. You, on the other hand…”

  “Don’t even go there.”

  Ginger cupped a hand over her mouth, unsuccessfully hiding her widening smile. Her eyes glimmered with mischievous delight.

  Hunter eyed her suspiciously. “I’m glad you and Molly had such a great time cutting my hair together.”

  “I’m glad you two got back together after she made it back to town.”

  Hunter shrugged. “She’s different now.”

  “You’re both different now,” Ginger said and patted his arm.

  Hunter shook his head. Anticipation rumbled in his stomach. “The food at this place better be good. I’m starting to think nobody in Denver knows how to cook.”

  “I asked Raven this morning before we left.”

  Hunter stared at her, waiting for the verdict. Over the past three days, he had grown familiar with Ginger’s subtle sense of humor. His brother had picked a keeper.

  Ginger held up two fingers. “She gave it two stars.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  She nudged into the side of Hunter playfully. “Don’t get your hopes up.”

  They stood in the parking lot surrounded by cracks in the asphalt. This was the third cafeteria he and Ginger had tried in as many days. “Jackson’s Joint” was spray-painted in red loopy letters above the double doors. Hunter didn’t recognize the shabby exterior, especially since the color showed the faded appearance that came with six years of neglect. Some days he wished for Red Lobster, but actual seafood was out of the question in the middle of the continent. Hunter missed fried shrimp.

  The crowd surged forward as the cafeteria doors opened. Hunter and Ginger were swept up in the tide of kids flowing inside.

  At the hostess station a girl on a barstool jiggled an industrial-sized can labeled hominy beans. She eyed each person from beneath her rainbow-colored stocking cap as they passed. Ginger dropped her One Dollar casino chip from The Teller House into the can and Hunter did the same.

  “I don’t know where they find these grumpy girls,” Ginger said, looking back over her shoulder. “They make you feel like you’re committing a crime just to get something to eat.

  “Yeah, I miss Brittany’s personal service with a smile.”

  The line dwindled until they were at the front where kids grabbed their plates and shuffled off to find seats. Hunter received a plate of something brown and something green and a couple of yellow lumpy things. His stomach rolled from the smell, but after working all day for his three casino chips, he was going to eat. He managed to thank the greasy-haired girl who handed him the plate. She sneered and Hunter quickly moved away before she flung her serving spoon and peppered him with something brown.

  Ginger directed his attention upward. “I bet I made one of those candles today.”

  Several chandeliers hung from the ceiling and each one held twelve white candles in a flaming circle. At least the gloomy kids living in Denver were treated to a cheery glow at dinner. Judging by the contents on his tray, Hunter mused it might be better to eat the slop in the dark.

  “You got to stir a pot of boiling pig fat?” he asked.

  “You don’t have to make it sound so unpleasant.”

  “Who do you think was cutting the fat out of the pig?”

  Ginger made a yucky face, but that was probably caused by the stuff on her plate. Hunter followed her to an empty table and then left to fetch waters. When he returned, some skinny kid with dirty hands and long, black hair that hung in greasy strands stood at their table. The kid caught sight of Hunter’s approach and leaned closer to Ginger.

  “Why you want to be like that? I was hoping we could keep each other warm tonight.”

  Hunter placed the drinks on the table and crossed his arms. “Go away.”

  “Whoa! Hey, nice hair. This is between her and me. What’s your problem?”

  “She’s my sister, and you smell like a pile of crap. Now take off.”

  Ginger tapped Hunter’s leg. He ignored her and glared at the skinny kid.

  The kid held up his hands, smiled a yellow row of teeth, and backed away. Hunter watched him until he sat down with a bunch of other kids. They all laughed, but Hunter paid them no more attention.

  “You okay?”

  “I’m fine. He was just rude. You’re lucky he backed down.”

  Hunter snorted. “That kid, are you serious? I would have torn him a new one.”

  “I realize that, but we’re trying to keep a low profile, not beat up kids with bad manners.”

  Hunter conceded with a nod and then forked in his food as fast as he could without thinking about what it might be and how many foreign objects fell into it while it was prepared. Then he washed it all down with water that smelled like eggs. Hopefully, it was purified, but Hunter wished he had brought his iodine.

  Ginger picked at her food, following every bite with a drink. She sputtered and started coughing.

  “Are you choking?” Hunter asked, rising from his seat.

  “At the door,” she managed to say.

  Hunter tracked her gaze and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end when he recognized him. A ripple of anger stopped his breath for a moment.

  Patrick stood at the hostess station, giving the little girl on the barstool a hard time. He was bigger than Hunter remembered, but that red hair set him apart like a brushfire. Patrick flipped his casino chip into the can and patted the girl on top of her rainbow cap.

  Hunter turned back. He drained his water in two giant gulps.

  “What do we do?” Ginger asked.

&
nbsp; “Finish dinner. We’ll go outside and follow him when he comes out. Hopefully, he’ll lead us to Catherine.” Hunter wiped his mouth and stood up with his glass. “Can I get you some more water?”

  Ginger looked at her empty glass and her plate that was still half-full. “Yes, please.”

  Hunter filled their glasses. He didn’t want to go stalk the beast with his brother’s girlfriend. Patrick might recognize him or catch them following and then bad things might happen. Jimmy would never forgive him if bad things happened to Ginger, but Hunter couldn’t send her back to the hideout, either. Too many desperate eyes followed her in the daylight to let Ginger chance Denver alone in the dark.

  He was about to return to the table when someone poked his back. Patrick loomed over him like a mountain.

  “Hey, man, would you get me a glass of that water?”

  Hunter stood for a second with his hands full. He lowered his gaze to the floor. The tops of Patrick’s boots were covered with dark red spots and he smelled like stale sweat. Hunter offered one of his full glasses to the kid that nearly killed his brother three months ago.

  Patrick nodded back, oblivious. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” Hunter filled a new glass. His shaking hands spilt water onto the counter. His heart raced and he took a deep breath, struggling to keep himself under control.

  “Don’t touch me!” Ginger screamed.

  Hunter spun to see the skinny kid back at their table, his tongue sticking out, groping Ginger’s chest from behind. She waved her arms in an attempt to fight him off, but he pressed her into the table. He smiled at three other boys standing nearby and laughed.

  Hunter exploded into a blind rage. He flew into the kid and pinned him to the ground. Unleashing his anger through his fists, each punch chased the next with meaty thuds.

  Someone bumped against his back. He reached behind, grabbed an unknown arm and flung another boy on top of the first. He punched the new kid several times before standing up from the pile, panting. He spotted the other two and stepped in their direction. They retreated, unwilling to join the scrum and ran for the door.

  “Behind you!” Ginger screamed.

  Hunter whirled. The skinny kid, his face bloodied, sped toward him with a chair held high. Hunter brought his arms up in preparation for the blow. Instead, the boy slid across the table in front of Ginger, scattering the remains of her dinner and crashing to the floor on the other side. Patrick stood in his place.

  Hunter clenched his fists. He wasn’t ready for this fight. Not alone.

  Patrick’s smile totally disarmed Hunter’s ramped-up adrenaline. “Just a second,” Patrick said, holding up his index finger. The big kid stepped around the table. “Tommy the Perv. How’s puberty, Tommy? Looks like those urges got the best of you this time.”

  “Hey, Patrick,” Tommy said, glancing around like he was trying to find a way out of a maze after eating the cheese. “Look, man, I didn’t know this dude was a friend of yours. Swears. I was just talking to his sister, know what I mean?”

  “I know exactly what you mean. That’s why you’re the Perv.” Patrick’s face went grim. “You’ve been told to cut the shit. Now get out of my town.”

  “But, Patrick.”

  Patrick punched the kid so hard that even Hunter’s teeth rattled from the concussive force. The dinner crowd groaned in response to the violence. Tommy the Perv’s face ricocheted off Patrick’s knuckles, and his head bounced back and forth, bobbling like his spring broke.

  Patrick pointed to Tommy’s lone friend still sitting on the ground where a smelly puddle gathered. “Help Tommy to the edge of town and make sure he keeps going or you’ll be following him. Got it?”

  “I got it. I got it.” The kid took hold of Tommy and dragged him outside. The sound of Tommy’s crying carried through the walls.

  All the kids in the cafeteria applauded. What they applauded, Hunter was unsure. All he knew was that he’d just drawn a truckload of attention.

  Patrick shook hands with kids like a politician, and even slapped some high and low fives, and bumped a few knuckles. He waved the rest of the applause down and walked over to Hunter.

  “Thanks,” Hunter said.

  “Don’t mention it. Tommy’s had it coming for a while. She wasn’t the first.”

  Ginger shrank in the aftermath.

  “Are you all right?” Hunter asked her.

  “Yes,” she said, straightening her sweater and tucking a strand of tawny hair behind her ear. Ginger folded her arms across her chest, looking up at him with watery eyes and a trembling bottom lip. “Can we go?”

  “Yeah,” he said, offering her help up. She flinched away. He stepped back, aware of her comfort level regarding personal space.

  Patrick frowned as they passed. “Hey, man, meet me here for breakfast tomorrow. I’ll get you some decent work to earn your chips. I’ll even throw in extra so she can take the day off.”

  “Thanks,” Hunter said. “I’ll be here.”

  Hunter followed Ginger out to the dark streets of Denver, wondering if this mission was a success. At least they found Patrick, but Hunter hated himself for not protecting Ginger. Jimmy would not be happy either.

  THIRTY

  Jimmy

  Jimmy hated Denver. The city contained more resources than you could dig a shovel into, and yet the kids living there squandered everything. No one tried to make life better. He missed Independents.

  The winter snowstorms were unusually harsh, so they waited them out in Independents before beginning their rescue mission. When they found Molly after that first snowstorm died down, they jailed her with Raven, but the two quickly rehabilitated in each other’s company. Catherine did something to Molly, healing her in some way that made everyone more than a little thankful; they didn’t have a single clue what to do with her before the dramatic change.

  Raven healed on her own with time away from Chase’s influence, insisting he’s the devil. Jimmy guessed that would explain a lot if it didn’t sound crazy. Chase was evil; there was no doubting that.

  After she left jail, Molly focused on psychology and therapy. Hunter found her all kinds of books on subjects like positive thinking, self-esteem and anger management. Jimmy didn’t understand most of it. Molly bugged him to talk about his fear of death. He told her he was dealing with the issue and suggested she work on Samuel’s need for attention, instead.

  Raven and Scout started a thing together almost the moment she was released from jail. He just needed to quit calling her by her first name before she would commit to a relationship. Raven offered up the information about Denver without a fight.

  Downtown Denver was an upturned graveyard, filled with decayed bones and probably rampant with disease. The skyscrapers were imposing mausoleums. Nobody went downtown.

  Most of the kids lived on the northeastern outskirts that stretched along the Platte River, doing different jobs to earn their food. Their farms were supposedly getting better at producing crops, but they didn’t possess the variety Jimmy offered. Eggplant was definitely not on their menu. Mainly corn and potatoes, although their corn was weak compared to Jimmy’s; Independents was in Husker country, after all. The Denver kids’ main sources for protein were chickens, hogs and the occasional wandering elk herd.

  Jimmy stood from his chair at the window and stretched as daytime ended with the sunlight drifting from the house like smoke, leaving the in-between shadows of twilight. Scout lit a candle behind him. He and Raven sat with a deck of cards, playing a game that Scout kept winning. Raven kept complaining. Jimmy stared out the window, waiting for the two most important people in his life to return with news of their day. The waiting was killing him.

  “You shouldn’t stand directly in front of the window,” Scout said. It was the sixth time they told Jimmy that day and about the twentieth over the past three days.

  He stepped sideways. He knew he shouldn’t be there, but he kept finding himself in that spot without realizing it. He scanned th
e street one more time and sat in the chair that Molly placed as a reminder of where he ought to be. It was usually the pacing that did it. After a moment or two of pacing, Jimmy was there again, back in front of the window.

  “They should be back any time now,” Scout said. “Relax.”

  Jimmy’s shoulders tightened from the suggestion, but he released his negativity with a slow exhale. Molly would be pleased.

  “This has been the longest three days of my life,” he said. “I hope they found something. I can’t take another day of this staring out the window.”

  “We can’t either,” Scout said.

  Jimmy caught a glimpse of Scout’s poorly concealed smile behind his hand of cards.

  “Be nice,” Raven said. She inspected Scout’s last discard and drew two fresh ones from a pile. “Like I keep saying, Jimmy, Denver’s a big place. Just because Chase wasn’t at the old house doesn’t mean they left town.”

  Jimmy pressed his hands into his face, very aware of the impression he’d make if he were to scream. Molly would come at him with one of her books, for sure.

  “I’m running out of time,” he said.

  “What?” Raven asked.

  Outside, two dark forms detached from the deeper shadows and closed on the house. Jimmy peered from behind the curtain, his skin tingling with relief when he recognized Ginger and Hunter. Four long strides carried him to the door; he swung it wide open, ready to smother them both with hugs regardless of what they’d discovered through their investigations.

  Ginger jumped, confusing Jimmy with her startled expression. Hunter seemed angry.

  “What’s wrong?” Jimmy asked.

  Ginger buried her face in his chest and her tears bled through his sweater instantly. Her body trembled; he held her tight and frowned at Hunter.

  “Inside,” Hunter said. He closed the door, locked it, and looked out the peephole. Then he pulled the cord, closing the curtains for security or privacy, Jimmy wasn’t quite sure which one was more important at the moment.