Sudden Independents

by Ted Hill

  “He was making a funny noise earlier,” Catherine said. “That’s what woke me up.”

  “Yeah, funny’s one way to put it.”

  She knelt and placed her hand on Hunter’s head. Scout smiled at her concern. Maybe she was feeling for his temperature.

  “I think I got his arm set right,” Scout said, consoling any fears she might possess. “Now it’s just going to take time for him to heal.”

  Catherine laid her hands on the splint. “You did very well.”

  Scout rushed forward in a surge of panic. “Be careful, you might mess up the set.”

  “Don’t worry, silly. I’m just going to heal him so you believe again.”

  She seemed careful about not moving or placing any pressure on Hunter’s arm and that decreased Scout’s anxiety. He shook his head. Catherine was laying hands like an evangelist performing miracle nonsense. He plunked his tired bottom by the fire and felt the crush of drowsiness the moment he was settled.

  His head was just starting to loll when a yellow light pulsed underneath Catherine’s hands. Her forehead creased in concentration with sweat beading in the folds and instantly running down the sides of her face. The light crept up her arms like water soaking into a sponge.

  Scout scrambled to his feet and rubbed his eyes. This couldn’t be happening. It wasn’t real; he’d fallen asleep. What the heck was that light?

  The yellow light gradually spread over Catherine and Hunter, completely covering them in a shinning intensity that proved hard to watch for periods longer than a couple seconds. Hunter’s head twisted back and forth and he groaned in his sleep as his feet shook violently. Catherine remained fixed and steady.

  Scout became aware of his own breathing, ragged and harsh in the otherwise silent night. He was afraid to move, scared to look, and terrified he was losing his mind.

  Then Catherine opened her mouth and the yellow light retreated, sliding off of her and Hunter only to disappear completely down her narrow throat. She closed her mouth and everything went dark, even though Scout heard the fire crackling and assumed—hoped—the stars still hung in the sky.

  A moment passed. He finally focused in on Catherine’s dark silhouette kneeling next to Hunter’s prone body on the ground. Scout was struck with indecision: should he tap Catherine on the shoulder and see what’s up, or jump on his bike and ride for his life?

  Catherine opened her eyes and the bright yellow light blasted forth, filling the entire area with its blinding radiance, like the sun going supernova, dazzling Scout’s sight once more.

  Scout threw up his arms to shield his eyes, and then fell to his knees, disoriented by the overwhelming brilliance that thrummed like a living current all around him. An instant later the yellow light was extinguished by the night.

  For a moment Scout saw only yellow spirals and squiggly lines swirling in his vision. The campfire flames rustled from the wind, and smoke filled his nose. Coughing, he waved his hands and crawled clear, relieved as his eyesight slowly returned.

  Catherine lay in a heap beside Hunter.

  Scout paced back and forth, wishing someone would wake up and explain what just happened. She was only a little girl. No way did yellow light shoot from her eyes like laser beams he’d seen in old comic books. Surely, he’d been dreaming. He lifted his face to the heavens. The stars illuminated the world with new possibilities.

  Hunter’s snoring renewed with amplified volume, but Scout tuned it out. He covered Catherine with his sleeping bag, pleased to see her smile rekindled. Dropping beside her, Scout pulled his knees in close to his chest and kept a protective watch as the fire dwindled.

  Molly staggered out of Brittany’s kitchen baffled and enraged. It was impossible. Her own brother betrayed her. She couldn’t care less what everyone else thought about her, but Mark was all she had left in this world.

  She walked quickly, surrounded by nightfall and blinded by the red haze of her anger. Her thoughts turned violent, churning, building pressure that required release. She fought the urge to smash something. If she stopped walking it would signal a change of action and then something awful would happen; she just knew it.

  Before she realized where her feet carried her, she arrived at Jimmy’s. She visited his house often late at night, fantasizing about knocking on his window and climbing into his arms, but she always chickened out.

  Tonight she planned to go all the way after dinner. She had prepared herself to be brave, to walk out with him and finally tell him how she truly felt. Vanessa had ruined that chance.

  The last thing Molly wanted was for Jimmy to come home and find her slinking around his yard like some crazy girl. Molly wasn’t crazy. She was alone, and now thanks to Vanessa, her solitude would last an eternity.

  Molly balled her hands into fists so tight that her fingers hurt. She definitely didn’t want to smash anything at Jimmy’s. She turned downhill, heading further from town where she could detonate in peace.

  She couldn’t stop thinking about Jimmy after passing his house. They were perfect for each other, so why was she petrified to tell him? For one thing, she was terrible at handling rejection. She knew she was the most attractive girl in town, by far. She always caught boys following her with their eyes and big appreciative smiles when she wore something tight. Molly usually received several scribbled love letters a month from the ones who bumbled into adolescence.

  Jimmy treated her kindly as a friend, but never seemed interested in her like the other boys, and that only stoked Molly’s desire. He was the one for her. He was handsome and mature, all the things a girl could ever want. He was tall and his brown hair framed a gorgeous, intense face. Sometimes she would sneak to the edge of town just to stare at him working in the fields. His shirt stretching against his muscular chest made her dizzy.

  He needed her even if he didn’t realize it yet. Like Mark, though, Jimmy relied on Vanessa way too much. Damn her! She cast some sort of magical spell over both of them, bending them to her will and numbing them to Molly’s. Molly hated Vanessa so much; she sometimes found herself plotting Vanessa’s demise. Poison was usually her personal favorite, but right then, Molly wouldn’t mind using a big, heavy shovel upside the head. Then she could dig a hole to hide the body.

  Molly’s angry stride came to an unexpected halt with two big sunken steps. She found herself ankle deep in a muddy field surrounded by cabbages.

  “Damn it all to hell!”

  She was stuck. She tried to free her feet one at a time, gripping with both hands around each knee and pulling, but she became more entrenched the harder she struggled. Meanwhile, she continued to sink and was now up to her shins.

  “Let go of me, you stupid mud!”

  She ripped one foot out of the earth and then the other, but the muck claimed her shoes. She considered surrendering them to their misfortune and scurrying back to her apartment with whatever dignity she could salvage, but she loved those shoes. Before the plague, Nebraska was a land populated by big footed Neanderthals because it was hard for Hunter to find shoes in her size. She couldn’t afford to lose a pair that fit.

  Standing on solid ground, she bent over, knifed both hands into the mud and located one immediately. She pulled and strained and the shoe finally popped loose with a loud sucking slurp. She tossed it to safety. By now the hole had closed over her other shoe. She dug down, felt a mud-caked lace and followed it to the tongue. Her other hand met with the heel and she tugged. Nothing happened at first. She wrenched angrily, struggling harder, and felt a little give as the mud oozed away from the force she applied. Her fingers slipped, forcing her to regroup. She grunted with tremendous effort and the shoe broke the surface, flying out of her hands.

  Molly lost her balance and twisted, landing on her back with a splat. She screamed and thrashed in frustration and pain until she was drained of rage and covered in mud. Tears arrived at last, washing away the final traces of anger and replacing it with a grief she never thought possible. She lay there for a long time wrappe
d in the cool mud and sorrow.

  Eventually, she rolled out and wiped off as much mud as she could in the stiff grass that bordered the cabbage patch. She never felt more alone in all her sixteen years.

  A tall shadow loomed over her, blocking the light from the stars. For a second, Molly thought she was dreaming. Her love, her savior had come to her rescue.

  “Molly, are you all right?” Jimmy asked.

  She choked and sobbed. He must have been looking for her.

  Jimmy held out his hand and she slipped hers into it. His grip was firm and she experienced a warm thrill at his touch. Jimmy lifted her up beside him.

  A smile curled the edges of his mouth. “What happened?”

  “I got stuck and lost my shoes,” she said.

  “You’d be surprised how often that happens to me.” When he laughed, Molly decided the sound was as nice as rain tapping on the roof when she lay curled up in bed.

  He still held her hand. She tugged him closer.

  Jimmy turned to lead her away. “Let’s get you back so you can clean up.”

  Molly tugged again.

  “Wait,” she said. Her heart pounded against her rib cage. This was it. This was the perfect moment.

  “What…?”

  Before he finished his question, Molly pulled herself close and kissed him, slipping her tongue in his mouth, discovering his and swirling them together. She gripped the back of his shirt so he couldn’t get away and held on tightly. She wanted Jimmy to love her.

  She needed him to.

  Jimmy squirmed in her embrace and Molly sensed his confusion. His lips were stiff and unresponsive, but she would not allow him to stop until she won. She would break Vanessa’s spell. Molly locked her arms around him, holding onto Jimmy and this moment with growing desperation.

  Jimmy turned his head away and broke the kiss. “Molly!”

  The urgency in his voice told Molly she was close. Jimmy pushed himself back and tripped, landing with a splat in the mud where she had fallen earlier. She pounced on top of him, pinning his arms to the ground. She pulled his hand, guiding it under her shirt and felt his warm touch on her skin.

  “Molly, stop!” He shucked her off like a dirty blanket. “What are you doing?”

  “Are you serious? I want to be with you.”

  “We can’t do this.” He looked at her, and then dropped his gaze. “I mean I can’t do this.”

  “Why can’t you, Jimmy? I really like you. I want you.”

  Jimmy stood, and helped Molly to her feet again, releasing her immediately as though certain she was steady; only she didn’t feel steady.

  “Molly, I…” A breeze followed his sigh.

  Molly’s desire collapsed from the night air on her muddy skin, leaving her chilled and trembling. “What, Jimmy?”

  His hazel eyes were touched with concern, but not love. Not for her.

  He raised his shoulders in a simple shrug. “I like someone else.”

  Hunter cracked open his eyes in the early morning light as a songbird twittered from somewhere above. His muddled brain cleared and he sat up, attempting to rub the sleep from his eyes. His arm wouldn’t bend. He remembered breaking his arm, the pain, Scout tugging the bones into place and extreme pain ending with the dark blanket of oblivion. Hunter thought it weird that he didn’t feel any pain now.

  Next to him, Catherine slept under a sleeping bag. If there were ever a standard image of peacefulness, the little girl displayed it perfectly with her hands tucked beneath her head, the sounds of her breathing puffing through her tiny mouth. Scout was the opposite of peacefulness. He knelt by the fire, holding a burning stick into the flames, his bleary-eyed stare focused on nothing apparent. His normal tight Afro looked like a lumpy sponge.

  Finally, Scout blinked. “How’s the arm?”

  “It feels fine. You do good work.”

  Scout grunted. “I tightened up your handle bars. Your bike started okay. You should be good to go. Throttle’s a little tight.”

  “The throttle’s been jacked up for a while. It’s constantly sticking on me. But that doesn’t matter since I can’t ride, remember?” Hunter held up his splintered right arm as evidence.

  Scout responded with a tired frown. He tossed his poking stick in the fire and stood. “I got some water if you’re thirsty. There’s also some food.”

  “Thanks.” Hunter scurried to his feet and ran for privacy. He managed to pee using his left hand. He returned to camp, replenished his water intake, and eyed Scout who had found a new stick to fidget with the fire.

  Hunter wiped his mouth with the back of his good arm. “So what’s up?”

  Scout’s gaze traveled towards the sleeping Catherine. “She did something to you last night, didn’t she? I mean when you were hurting. She made the pain go away.”

  “Not totally, but she helped a lot. I thought my arm was going to fall off. Then she placed her hand on my head and I was able to deal with it. But that’s impossible, so I don’t know what to think.”

  “When I set your arm she passed out with you. At first I thought it was because of your screaming.”

  Hunter stiffened. “It hurt like hell when you pulled.”

  “Yeah, I don’t doubt that. There’s more.” Scout stepped away from the fire and Hunter reluctantly followed him the short distance.

  Scout lowered his voice and relayed everything that happened while Hunter slept.

  Hunter barked out a laugh. “You did have some liquor, stingy.”

  “I’m serious. You were both covered in a yellow light and then she took it all inside her and the light shot from her eyes into the sky. She passed out again and hasn’t moved since.”

  Hunter considered the girl, lying in the prairie grass. Scout never lied to him. Never.

  He swung his splintered arm up for a closer inspection. Scout wrapped it with Hunter’s favorite shirt. Something about the shirt didn’t appear right, but Hunter was more concerned with the arm itself.

  “So what do you think?” Hunter asked.

  “How does your arm feel?”

  Gently, Hunter touched the broken arm. He rubbed it and then poked it. The arm didn’t hurt, causing him to up the notch on his bravery. He flexed the fingers of the broken arm—fanning them out—making a fist. Finally, he shook the whole thing like the arm was gift-wrapped and shoved into a stocking.

  “There’s nothing wrong with it.”

  “Let me take off that splint and have a look.”

  “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

  “You just shook the heck out of it.”

  Hunter held his arm out. Scout untied the shirt.

  “Scout!”

  Scout jerked his hands away. “I’m sorry. Did that hurt?”

  “No, it didn’t hurt. You cut up my favorite shirt.”

  “I needed to make strips to tie the sticks in place.”

  “Yeah, but that was my favorite shirt!”

  “I could break your other arm.” Scout untied the rest of the strips and the sticks clattered on the ground. He gave a low whistle.

  Hunter had closed his eyes, afraid of seeing where the bone had popped through the skin. “What is it?”

  “Open your eyes, you big baby.”

  Hunter peeked out his right eye. A drop of dried blood was tangled in a patch of arm hair. Otherwise, his arm was healed with just a tiny white scar where the hole was last night. With wide eyes, he poked at his arm again. He gave it another shake.

  “What are you two silly boys doing?”

  Hunter and Scout jumped as if someone caught them stealing food from the pantry in Brittany’s kitchen. Catherine stood in their midst with Scout’s sleeping bag caped over her shoulders. The sun shining behind her formed a golden nimbus around the little girl.

  “Uh…” Hunter stammered.

  “He and I…” Scout began.

  Catherine bounced up and down, and pointed at Hunter. “Oh looky, your arm’s all better.” The sleeping bag dropped and she did a l
ittle dance, her feet kicking up high and her hands clapping a rapid beat. “Hurray! Now we can go home!” She repeated the word “home” as she danced around, singing. “Home, home, home.”

  The boys glanced at each other for support. Scout urged Hunter on with a nod. Hunter frowned.

  “Catherine,” he said, striving hard to regain her attention by waving his healed arm. She took that as an invitation and twirled underneath his hand until Hunter grew light-headed.

  “Catherine, please…” Scout tried, but that only brought him into the fray. Catherine whirled from Hunter and hooked her arm into Scout’s, working them into a circle, singing, “We did it. We did it!”

  “Catherine!” the boys yelled.

  The dance stopped. Catherine puckered her bottom lip as her eyes watered with tears. She picked up Scout’s sleeping bag and blew her nose.

  Hunter knelt in front of her. “Catherine, Scout said you did something to heal my arm. Is that what happened?”

  She dropped the sleeping bag again. Scout quickly rescued it from the ground, giving a disgusted look at the snot smeared on the edge; he stuffed the bag away in its sack. Catherine smiled at him.

  “Catherine,” Hunter said again.

  “What?”

  “My arm…you fixed it…how?”

  “Oh that was easy, silly. Scout did the hard part. I just helped it along.” She brought her tiny hand up and brushed a strand of Hunter’s hair back. Her expression turned serious for once, giving Hunter the impression that he spoke with someone much older than six. “I didn’t like seeing you hurting. So I made your arm all better.”

  Hunter glanced at Scout, who shrugged and stalked off, shaking his head and muttering something about no sleep.

  “Okay, I guess the real question we would like to understand is how you healed my arm?”

  She stared at Hunter for a couple seconds. “Don’t you believe in miracles?” she said finally, and laughed. “When do we go home?”

  Hunter pinched the bridge of his nose between his eyes and stood up. The sun had pushed from the eastern horizon and now filled the morning sky like a flaming bowling ball. A v-shaped formation of sandhill cranes flew across the sky. He sighed and answered, “In a little bit.”