Sudden Independents i-1

by Ted Hill

  Billy skipped after Hunter like they were going to the toy store, as fresh air and warm sunshine brushed away the remnant of chicken death. They approached a sparkling pond occupied by Canadian geese dressed in mottled shades of brown feathers. Hunter washed off at the muddy edge and the geese congregated close-by seeking handouts.

  “I’m glad we’re not plucking those things.”

  “That’s only on Thursdays.”

  Hunter would be out of Denver by Thursday. If not, then he would make sure to skip work at the Goose Shack.

  They continued walking through a neighborhood until Hunter spotted the tall metal pole standing in the grassy area of a circular drive. He led Billy to the building named Henderson Elementary. They stepped inside, choosing a careful path across a pair of shattered glass doors lying on the floor.

  “What is this place?” Billy asked.

  Hunter glanced into a room and then traveled farther down a hallway cluttered with paper, books and broken furniture. “This was a school. A place where they used to send kids to learn about things before all the grownups died.” He walked into another room and pulled down a rolled-up map. “See, this is the world. The blue parts are the oceans and the brown and green are the continents.”

  Billy inspected the map closely and narrowed his eyes. “It’s flat.”

  “Well, yeah, maps are flat. But here…” Hunter crossed over the scattered notebook paper, broken pencils and other debris that littered the classroom. “This is called a globe.” He lifted the dingy orb off a filing cabinet and gave it a spin to whirl away the dust. Then he handed the world to Billy.

  Billy set the globe down on a desk and traced his finger over the oceans and continents. “Where are we?”

  Hunter pointed to Denver. “Feel these bumps here? They represent the mountains.”

  Billy touched the bumps and gazed out the window where the mountains rose to challenge the western sky. “That’s amazing.”

  Hunter smiled. “At least now you know where you are.”

  • • •

  When they returned to the Chicken Shack, Hunter wished he could do anything besides rip the feathers from a dead bird. But he started plucking when Phillip mounted his backside to the stool and shouted, “Work!”

  Billy bustled about his duties, telling everyone about school. Some kids nodded their heads, saying they remembered, and it wasn’t that great. Billy would disagree, explaining the importance of an education. Hunter smiled at the monster he had created.

  Then Phillip waddled over and ruined it all. “Get back to work!” He slapped Billy in the back of the head and knocked him to the concrete floor.

  Hunter charged Phillip, aiming his punches at the fat kid’s dumbstruck face. Hunter pounded his fists into Phillip until his anger faded into shame. Phillip hobbled away, sobbing.

  Underneath his heavy breathing and the growing distance of Phillip’s crying, Hunter noticed the silence surrounding him. He shrugged and addressed his coworkers. “I think we all know how to pluck a chicken without him yelling at us.”

  A few halfhearted cheers rose from the crowd before everyone carried on with their plucking. The mood in the Chicken Shack lightened as several quiet discussions sprouted about how Phillip had been asking for that butt kicking for a while.

  Hunter helped Billy up from the floor. Billy rubbed his head as Hunter patted the little boy on the shoulder and brushed some feathers off his shirt.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah, thanks.”

  “Tomorrow you should find somewhere else to earn your chips. Maybe I can help.”

  “Sure,” Billy said, wiping his nose. Then his eyes grew wide and he stumbled backwards.

  Hunter spun around in time to see Patrick and his bandaged head. Patrick threw the first punch with a solid fist that hit Hunter like a baseball bat and knocked him flat.

  Hunter sat up and rubbed his jaw. “Hey, Patrick, I missed you at breakfast.”

  “Cut the undercover shit, baldy. Where are your friends hiding that little girl?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Wrong answer.”

  Patrick stepped in line for a kick, but Hunter rolled and the big kid fell off balance when he met the empty resistance. He growled in frustration and both boys scrambled to their feet. Patrick rushed forward, swinging his fists through the air. Hunter sidestepped and punched the clumsy giant in the kidney. Unfazed, Patrick pivoted around, throwing another wide-arcing shot. Hunter dodged left, registering the breeze from the passing swipe. Pain pulsed in his face from the first punch. Another connected strike like that and he would be the one getting plucked.

  Everyone in the building retreated to a safe distance but remained close enough to keep their spectator status. Billy stood alone, looking scared and anxious, which was exactly the way Hunter felt as he backpedaled from Patrick’s fury.

  “I like the new look, Patty,” Hunter said, sidestepping another onrush. “What happened? I didn’t think brain surgery was possible anymore.”

  Patrick frowned. “Your black buddy surprised me, but it won’t happen again. I’m going to leave all of you for dead, just like your brother.”

  Hunter clenched his fist and ignored his common sense screaming at him to run away. Patrick’s hungry eyes flashed, but instead of trading punches, Hunter dropped and kicked Patrick’s right knee out. The kid yelled with pain and toppled over like a broken stone statue. Hunter pounced on top, clamping his legs around the boy’s barrel chest and punch after punch rained down.

  Patrick bucked him off and Hunter rolled clear. They both got up, Patrick just a little slower, spitting blood on the concrete as he limped forward.

  Hunter smiled, heaving for air as the initial adrenaline surge that brought him along this far dissipated. Was he prepared to kill Patrick? He realized he’d have a hard enough time just knocking him unconscious, while Patrick would certainly kill him if given the opportunity. Chances were slim on Hunter’s side all the way around.

  He spread his hands. “Well, I’ve done everything I can. Maybe we can catch up again at breakfast tomorrow.”

  Patrick grinned and lurched closer.

  Billy yelled something and Hunter wished his new friend hadn’t announced his allegiance, but Patrick didn’t notice or seem to care. He continued his slow advance. Hunter swallowed his pride and turned to run just as Phillip swung his stool. Hunter’s teeth smashed inward with a brilliant sparkle of pain. He collapsed in a heap on the stinking floor.

  “Thanks for the help, Phil,” Patrick said, kicking Hunter in the back of the head.

  Hunter’s eyes rolled. Unconsciousness replaced the pain and swept him away.

  • • •

  A dragging sensation jerked him awake.

  “Good,” Patrick said from somewhere above. “You’re still with us. I have to ask you a couple questions before I let you go. First off, where’s the rest of your group hiding?”

  Hunter’s vision blurred, which explained the multiple Patricks gathered around him. “I’m not telling you shit,” he muttered, forcing the words out through his broken mouth.

  Patrick began clubbing him with a hard object and Hunter tried to cover up without any hope. His arms, his legs, his body, his head were pummeled over and over and over again.

  Suddenly the beating ceased with Patrick’s scream. Something huge and heavy landed on top of Hunter. He struggled to breathe and push the thing from his chest but his injuries wouldn’t allow it. Billy, crying, drifted close, and the heavy object slid off. Hunter wanted to reach out and touch the little boy’s face. He wanted to tell Billy to run far from this awful place.

  Gradually, his worries slipped away.

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  Jimmy

  The Chicken Shack. That’s where the grumpy girl with the rainbow cap said Jimmy could find Patrick. After receiving directions, Jimmy raced back into the Escalade, shifted into drive and stomped on the gas. The engine roared and he jumped the curb. A
monster was stalking his little brother. It didn’t matter that Scout knocked Patrick unconscious. Someone had woken up the beast by now, and Patrick only had one target left: Hunter.

  “Slow down, Jimmy!” Scout yelled after a nasty pothole sent everyone to the roof. “We’ll be screwed if we get there and can’t drive out ’cuz the truck’s wrecked.”

  “He’s got a point,” Molly said from the backseat. “Drive around the potholes.”

  Jimmy had only asked Scout and Molly to go with him. Raven was too shaken, they’d all worked way too hard to find Catherine to risk losing her again, and he refused to let Ginger anywhere near Patrick now that their cover was blown. He just hoped they’d find Hunter before Patrick did. Then they could simply load up and go.

  As they circled in front of the Chicken Shack, Jimmy honked the horn and kids scrambled out of his path until he stopped outside the open bay door to the warehouse.

  “Molly, sit behind the wheel and be ready when we come out. Let’s go, Scout.”

  The fear that grew in the pit of Jimmy’s stomach climbed into his chest as he ran under the bay doors and into the back of a crowd. Everyone stood in eerie silence. Jimmy and Scout cut through the middle of the pack, stumbling to a halt when they broke through the ranks.

  Scout whispered, “Holy shit.”

  Those were the exact words screaming in Jimmy’s head. He squeezed his eyes shut, took a deep breath of rank air and reopened his eyes.

  Patrick lay in a pool of his own blood. A short-handled axe protruded from his back. His lifeless eyes frozen in a death mask etched with shock.

  A stirring of feathers and clucking brought Jimmy out of the horror and into the moment. Dozens of black-eyed chickens stared at him. Jimmy heard a little boy crying, and then realized the boy knelt next to his brother.

  “Hunter!”

  The little boy fell protectively over Hunter’s body, grief-stricken anger twisting his face. His hands shook with violent trembles like no one his size should ever shake.

  “It’s okay, kid,” Scout said, lifting the boy away. “That’s his brother.”

  “Oh my God,” Jimmy said. Hunter’s face was barely recognizable and his breathing came in harsh, strained gasps. Tears stung Jimmy’s eyes. Blood covered everything and determining the source was impossible.

  The kid fell to his knees on the sticky floor close to Hunter and continued weeping. Jimmy knelt on the other side.

  “What’s your name, kid?”

  “Billy.”

  “Billy, tell me what happened.”

  “Phillip hit me and Michael beat him up and then…” Billy pointed at Patrick and wept as he continued telling the story. Jimmy shuddered from the description of his defenseless brother’s beating. Billy sobbed at the conclusion of how he had stopped Patrick’s attack.

  “Which one is Phillip?”

  Billy searched the crowd. He pointed at a fat kid wearing a dirty shirt that didn’t fit.

  “If I see you again, I’ll kill you.” Jimmy meant every word.

  The fat kid spun around and charged out the door. The crowd watched him leave and then turned their attention back to Jimmy.

  Jimmy looked up at Scout. “What can we do?”

  Scout rubbed his hand up and over his head to the back of his neck, his eyes loaded with sorrow and uncertainty. “Get him to Catherine and hope the move doesn’t kill him.”

  “We need to get him to her now.”

  Scout nodded. “Give me a second to figure out how to move him.”

  Billy scooted closer and touched Hunter’s hand. Jimmy somehow managed a smile.

  Hunter stirred and a bloodshot eye popped open. The other one looked like an eggplant growing out of Hunter’s face. “Jimmy?”

  “I’m here. We’re taking you to Catherine.”

  “Billy?”

  “He’s right here also.”

  Hunter’s good eye searched for Billy and then tracked back to Jimmy. Jimmy had never seen intensity like that blazing in his brother’s eye. “Take him.”

  Jimmy held his brother’s hand. “He’s coming with us.” Hunter sighed and closed his eye.

  “Billy, move over to the other side,” Scout said. He laid a table with its legs folded up next to Hunter. “Okay, roll him towards you, Jimmy.”

  Hunter cried out in pain when Jimmy lifted his brother’s right side with Billy’s help. Scout pushed the table under Hunter’s body through the blood. They slid him to the center of the table like a fragile piece of stained glass.

  Hunter coughed up more blood onto his chin. Billy bent forward and wiped it away with the hem of his shirt. Jimmy and Scout picked up different ends of the table. As Scout walked backwards and led them out, Jimmy studied his brother’s broken face, praying they’d make it to Catherine in time. Billy stayed at Hunter’s side, touching his hand.

  The silent crowd watched the litter approach with solemn expressions on their faces. They parted without any type of malice. All but one.

  Chase waited at the back of the pack, a crooked smile underneath his feverish dark eyes. He stood in the center of the bay door with the Escalade idling behind him.

  “We’re leaving,” Jimmy told him.

  “That’s fine.” Chase shrugged. “I’m just here to say goodbye. I hope you’ve enjoyed your stay.” He stepped to the side, allowing them to pass. The crowd shifted away from him.

  Jimmy and Scout carried Hunter outside. “Billy, open up the back,” Jimmy said.

  Billy staggered off and swung open the Escalade’s back hatch. Scout placed his end inside and Jimmy guided the table as far as he could, while Scout ran around and folded the backseats down.

  “Hunter!” Molly cried from the driver’s seat and rushed out. She leaned over Hunter’s face, her tears falling on him. She raised her head, but Jimmy couldn’t meet her eyes without losing what little control he had left. He heard her hiss. “Bastard!”

  Scout grabbed her from running at Chase as Jimmy pushed Hunter’s table the rest of the way inside.

  “Molly, let’s go!” Jimmy’s voice was hard, snatching her attention. Scout helped her into the back with Hunter. “Get in, Billy.” The little boy followed Molly.

  “I’ll drive,” Scout said, leaving for the driver’s side and climbing in behind the wheel.

  Jimmy closed the hatch and found Chase standing next to him. Chase didn’t scare him now with Patrick dead. Jimmy turned for the passenger side of the Escalade so they could leave the creepy kid and his rotten city far behind.

  “Happy Birthday, by the way,” Chase said. He patted Jimmy’s bare arm with burning fingers.

  Jimmy flung off Chase’s touch and noticed a tingling in his arm, like a million ants were suddenly crawling underneath his skin.

  Chase grinned. “I wanted to give you my present a little early. Make sure to tell Catherine I said goodbye. She’ll appreciate all the extra work I’ve sent her way.”

  Jimmy gawked at Chase, trying to get a handle on what he was saying even as his vision blurred and his stomach pitched. His arm hung numb and useless at his side.

  Chase stepped closer and gazed up at Jimmy. “See? Even though I lose, I win.”

  The inside of Jimmy’s body burned as though boiling water replaced his blood and now bubbled through his veins. The world started spinning. Chase walked away, laughing. Jimmy’s legs trembled from the struggle of keeping him upright. He crashed to the dusty ground in a tangled heap of limbs that no longer responded and realized that Chase just made his biggest fear a reality.

  He was going to die. Soon.

  THIRTY-NINE

  Scout

  Jimmy drooped in his seat with his head hanging out the window. Long shadows from the trees lining the street flickered sunlight across his face as the late afternoon prepared to move on. Convulsions rocked through him as he puked again and again. There was nothing left inside and still he wretched violently out the window of the Escalade.

  Scout gripped the steering wheel, feeling the small-p
erforated holes in the leather wrapping. He met Molly’s eyes in the rearview mirror. She openly wept for her boyfriend and probably out of fear for what was happening to Jimmy.

  Scout knew the symptoms. He’d seen them enough six years ago. Jimmy contracted the plague that wiped the planet clean. It was alive and well, eating its next victim.

  The Escalade sped up, Scout pounding the horn at kids walking in his path. They scurried with shouts and waved fists, but still they scurried, most likely because they’d never seen a vehicle hauling-butt down their crumbling avenues. Scout managed to miss kids and potholes as he drove faster and faster with his foot stomped on the gas.

  When he recognized the street their hideout was on, relief washed over him like rain after a long, hot day. He drove over the curb pulling into the back alley, reversed the Escalade into the driveway, and shot out the driver’s side, scrambling up the deck to the backdoor of the house.

  He burst inside and yelled, “Catherine!” At the kitchen table, all three girls jumped in their chairs. “We need you,” he told the youngest one.

  Scout turned and flew through the garage, detaching the opener and lifting the heavy door with metallic groans. Tear stricken, Molly climbed down from the back of the Escalade. Billy crawled out and stood to the side, looking lost and confused.

  “Raven, help Molly with the other end of the table after I slide my end out,” Scout said.

  “Where’s Jimmy?” Ginger asked. Fear rose in her voice. She stopped and covered her mouth when she saw Hunter bloodied and bruised like a piece of meat right after the slaughter.

  “He’s in the front seat,” Scout said. He called upon yet another boost of energy to carry Hunter into the garage. Leading Molly and Raven, they laid the table down carefully.

  Catherine knelt next to Hunter. Sadness filling her face, she touched his hand. “So much pain,” she said softly.