by Ted Hill
Molly waited for the familiar sounds, but there was no creak from the bed or the tread of heavy feet on the stairs. “Hunter?”
She frowned at the silence behind the door. “Hunter! Where are you? I’m getting cold.”
She shivered as the bubbles evaporated with tiny pops. Her limbs actually shook. Now she was furious because her boyfriend was not showing up and her bath was being ruined.
“Hun - Ter!”
Molly rose from the tub with goose bumps sprouting over her body. She left the cold, dirty water in the tub for Hunter to empty and quickly dried off. She tugged her pink terrycloth robe down from its peg and wrapped her cold, dripping-wet hair in a dry towel before exiting the bathroom that was connected to their bedroom. Hunter was not in the bed and the door to the hallway was closed. He better not have taken off somewhere without telling her first.
She checked her complexion in the full-length mirror, marveling at her smooth skin and the clean pores on her face from the regular baths. Then she sorted through her clothes in the closet to find the perfect outfit.
When she first moved in she had Hunter relocate his things to the hall closet; a girl needed her clothes nearby for modesty. She even had him install a couple more shelves to fit all her stuff inside and keep it organized. He was so handy when he was around—unlike now when she really needed him to dry her hair.
She decided on her cute little v-neck sweater and her Gap jeans with the flared bottoms that Hunter had found. He liked when she wore them. She pulled on a clean pair of Hunter’s wool socks and went searching for her missing boyfriend.
She discovered him downstairs on the couch, snoring in front of a roaring fire. It must have been close to lunchtime and her lazy boyfriend was down here sleeping. Even she didn’t lie around that much.
Molly cleared her throat, but Hunter didn’t budge.
“Hunter, wake up!”
He stirred, driving his nose further into the cushions. He was awake. She knew he was. He was just ignoring her for some reason, trying to make her mad. It was a game he played that started about a month ago after she moved in. He’d pretend to be mad at her and then she would give him the sexy eyes and then it was game on. But she was not going to play that way today. She was really mad and a little fooling around wasn’t going to make her feel better this time.
Molly sat in the crook of Hunter’s legs and pounded him on the back. He twisted around with blurry, red eyes. Drool slid from his mouth, making him look stupid with his matted hair.
He’d actually been asleep, and now he appeared angry with her. But she’d been the one forced to rinse off in cold water. Why was he mad?
“What do you want now?” he asked, rolling back into the couch and closing his eyes.
“What do I want? I wanted some hot water. Now I want my boyfriend to pay attention to me. That’s what I want.”
“And I want some sleep. I figured after the tenth five-gallon bucket, you’d be good.”
“Well, I wasn’t, and I’m still not. What’s your problem?”
“I was asleep. If you’re done, I’d like to go back to sleep.”
“Why are you being such an asshole? You don’t care how I feel, do you?”
“No, not right now,” he said without looking at her.
Molly searched for something to throw at him or beat him with and found the empty orange bucket in a corner. She slipped her feet in Hunter’s boots and grabbed the bucket on her way out. She froze her hand on the metal handle as she pumped the well, but gritted her teeth and filled the bucket with cold water. It was way too heavy and she poured half of it out before struggling to carry it back inside.
It took every bit of her strength, but Molly raised the bucket high and smiled. She poured the cold water over Hunter and dropped the empty bucket on his head. Molly jumped back a couple of steps when Hunter erupted.
He was completely awake now, and furious. He snatched the bucket from the floor and hurled it at her. She ducked as it sailed over her head and smashed into the wall.
Molly laughed at him; pathetic, sleepy, little Hunter. His clothes and hair were soaked and he looked ridiculous. He approached her with his fists held high. She backed away further. Stumbling into the bucket, she realized the enormity of his anger. Suddenly she was no longer thinking about her ruined bath, she was just scared.
He stopped inches from her with his rapid, hot breath in her face. She fell to the floor, but he lifted her up. His fingers wrapped tightly around her arms, making them numb with pain. “What kind of messed up…?”
Molly didn’t let him finish before she kissed him hard. He released her and tried to shove her away, but she reached out, grasping his back. He fought. She won. Hunter’s anger mixed with his passion as Molly regained control over him once more.
• • •
The fire burned down after a while. Without a word, Hunter stood and climbed upstairs, leaving Molly on the floor. She smiled to herself and started wrestling on her clothes, hungry from all the activity. A couple of minutes later, Hunter reappeared downstairs fully dressed in dry clothes, looking all cute and frumpy.
She smiled playfully at him. “That was fun.”
Hunter said nothing as he rotated the handle in the fireplace that held the cast iron pot they used for heating water. He threw two fresh logs in the fireplace, still saying nothing. He stirred up the coals and got the fire flaming again, laid his wet clothes out on the hearth, then removed the wet cushions from the couch and set them on the floor closer to the fire. He placed the orange bucket back in the corner. Only then did he acknowledge Molly.
“So what do we do now?” she asked, standing up. She expected he’d want her to help clean house. Forget that.
Hunter sighed. “Now you go home. I’m breaking up with you.”
Molly smiled. “You can’t be serious.”
“I’ve never been more serious. We’re done. I’ll pack your stuff and leave it at your door tonight.”
Something inside Molly cracked. She could hardly believe the pain as she struggled to remain standing on her shaky knees. “You…you can’t do this to me.”
“I just did,” Hunter said. “The front door is that way.”
Hot tears filled Molly’s eyes as she reached for him, but he retreated like she had transformed into some evil, contaminated thing. Her bottom lip trembled and her hands clenched into fists. This was so wrong. It was the worst thing in the world and she wished it would all just end so she could stop hurting. This couldn’t happen to her—not like this—not again. He was just a stupid kid! She would kill him first.
“You’re going to regret this,” she growled.
“Maybe.”
“Bastard!”
Molly spotted the bucket on her way out and flung it at Hunter’s head with all her might. He deflected it. He did not appear upset or angry that she’d thrown it. He just looked at her like she was nothing—nothing at all.
She had almost reached the front doorknob when Scout swung the door wide open from the opposite side, shocking her as a blast of cold air entered the house.
“Hey, how’s the love life, Molly?”
Molly rushed past him before he could see her cry. She ran all the way back in Hunter’s wool socks to her apartment above her sewing shop, with frozen tears against her face.
Scout leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. “Okay, do you want to tell me what the hell just happened? And why are all the cushions off the couch? You didn’t just pull a wheelie on my couch, did you?”
Hunter rubbed the palms of his hands into his tired eyes. He swayed with exhaustion and tried to steady himself before his body crashed to the floor. Between no sleep, hauling buckets of water and the emotional ride of his breakup with Molly, he figured there was no chance this day would get any better.
“I just broke up with her.”
“What happened to my couch?” Scout moved forward and inspected the wet stains with a closer, critical eye. “I love my couch, you know.”<
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“Our sofa is fine. Molly dumped a bucket of water on me while I was sleeping.” Hunter ran a hand through his hair. It still felt damp. Scout glared at him.
“You didn’t hit her, did you?”
“It took everything I had not to.” Hunter slipped into his boots and tied the laces. The empty feeling in his stomach might be hunger, but that didn’t explain the hollow feeling in his chest. “Have you eaten lunch yet?”
“That’s why I came back to get you. I guess you haven’t heard about the visitors.”
Hunter looked up from his boots and squinted. “What visitors? Where are they?”
“Last I heard they were at Brittany’s. They say they drove here from Iowa. I think we need to take a ride around in case they got more people hiding out.”
“Let’s grab something to eat first and see what they look like. We can clue Jimmy in so he doesn’t freak out after we’re gone.”
“Very responsible of you.”
“Don’t start.”
Scout smiled. “What? Jimmy will appreciate your checking in before running off.”
“Why do you have to be like that?”
“It’s a gift. Grab your coat, its cold out.”
“Wonderful.” Hunter ran his arms through the heavy sleeves of his leather jacket and followed after Scout.
• • •
Down on Main Street, Brittany’s crackled like a madhouse on lockdown. The lunchtime crowd barely touched the food on their plates. They were preoccupied with sneaking peeks and chatting with each other about the new arrivals. From across the room, Hunter spotted the visitors sitting with his brother and began mentally labeling them.
The girl was the sparkle, used to distract anyone with half a penis, which meant every boy over the age of eleven in this crowd. The color of her hair reminded Hunter of autumn leaves. She wore her shirt one size too small; the tightness accentuated her natural appeal. Unfortunately, she was probably having a hard time distracting her current group because Mark was basically married, and Hunter didn’t know what his brother was—but Jimmy never got distracted.
The redheaded kid was the muscle and more than likely, dumb as a post. One long furry eyebrow stretched above his dull, pale eyes and across his pronounced forehead like Frankenstein. He sat with his arms bowed-out, trying to look—or feel—big and intimidating. Hunter smiled; one swift kick to the knee would leave “Muscles” rolling helplessly on the ground.
That left the third kid that should have stayed home and taken medicine and vast quantities of vitamin C and chicken noodle soup. The walking infection was obviously the brains. His hair was dark, and his eyes were like thunderclouds that appeared to take in everything at once, including Hunter and Scout as they approached the table through the bedlam.
Hunter noticed the brains catch the redheaded kid’s attention. Muscles actually tried to bow-out more by the time Hunter and Scout reached them.
Scout circled the table to Vanessa where she sat holding hands with Mark, and kissed his sister on the cheek. Hunter stopped beside Jimmy’s chair. Mark glanced up at him with a momentary flash of disgust in his eyes; then he shook his head and looked away.
“Guys,” Jimmy said. “This is my brother, Michael, and Vanessa’s brother, David.”
Hunter understood. Jimmy had the playbook open and nicknames were not being used to set up the offense.
“Chase, Patrick and Kessie just arrived from Iowa.”
Hunter smiled like a buffoon. “Really? Wow, Iowa. How far away is that?”
Chase returned a more sophisticated smile, one side of his mouth turning up higher than the other, as if to say, ‘I know I’m smarter than you.’
“It’s around five-hundred miles away. I didn’t check the odometer when we arrived, but our truck runs about twenty to the gallon. We filled up at a giant truck-stop before we turned south about two hours from here.”
Hunter scratched his head. “Yeah, we’ve gassed up there a couple times when we’ve gone out salvaging. I can’t believe the number of truckers that died sitting in their cabs.”
“I know. I bet it was tough for them to die on the road away from their families, all alone like that.”
Hunter didn’t understand why Chase’s smile grew wider, exposing perfect white teeth. The guy was certainly at the top of the weird and creepy list.
“What’re you guys doing this afternoon?” Jimmy asked.
Scout answered, “First we’re going to eat. Then we might clear that southern field you’ve been bugging us about. Or start on it, anyways.”
Chase fixed his dark gaze on them. “You guys are the cleanest farmers I’ve ever seen.”
“That’s ’cuz we haven’t been to work yet,” Scout said. “We get to sleep in on Saturdays.”
“You guys sleep in every day.” Jimmy waved a hand. “Calling them farmers is like calling an onion, spud. They may grow in the ground, but they don’t exactly taste the same.” He smiled at Vanessa. “Our brothers are a continual work in progress, huh?”
“I don’t know how you can use the word ‘work’ in the same sentence with them,” Vanessa replied.
“Hey!” Hunter said. “You’re being kind of rough on us in front of company, aren’t you?”
“How long are you planning to stay with us?” Scout asked.
Chase spread his hands out on the table. “We’re not sure yet. We’d like to make it back home before a snowstorm breaks out.”
“The way those clouds are moving in that could be anytime,” Hunter said. “We better eat something before we get to work,” he added, poking Jimmy’s shoulder.
“All right, but be careful in that southern field. That’s were Samuel found those rattlesnakes last week.”
“We will.” Hunter looked at Chase who was smiling at him still like he was a plate of food. “Nice meeting you guys. Maybe we’ll see you tonight at supper if you’re still here.”
“Have lots of fun in the field, spuds,” Chase said.
• • •
Back at their house, Hunter straddled his motorbike with a very full stomach. He seriously considered ramming his finger down his throat so he could puke.
“Chase seemed pretty sharp,” Scout said. “He didn’t believe our farmer story.”
Hunter shared the notion. “Why do you think that?”
“Well, we don’t dress like farmers with my camouflage and your leather jacket. He didn’t buy our act for a second.”
“I know, but what could we do—tell him we’re going to search for the rest of his gang?”
“I just don’t like it, that’s all. He called us spuds.”
About four hours of overcast daylight remained to search for anything out of the ordinary. Hunter zipped up his jacket, wondering if it would offer enough protection against the cold. He revved the bike’s throttle back until the motor idled without choking out. They headed north out of town since that’s the way Chase said he’d come.
They slowed after a couple miles and looked around. The gray sky melted into the flat gray landscape and there weren’t any strangers holding up signs that read, “Here we are.”
“Which way?” Scout asked over the sound of purring engines.
“I’ll take west. I doubt they came from Iowa.”
“We should ride together in case of trouble. Plus, one of us might miss something if we split up.”
“I don’t miss.”
“Whatever. We’ve got to play this smart. The town is depending on us.”
“All right, we both go west. Try not to slow me down.”
“Don’t flip your bike and we won’t need to worry, will we?”
Hunter showed Scout his middle finger and then clicked into first, second and third in rapid succession as he headed west. Scout stayed right on his back fender like they were tied together.
They traveled at a constant speed, not too fast to miss anything but quickly enough to eat up ground, going through every farmstead, woodland or canyon in a five-mile radius around I
ndependents. They figured that if there were others hiding out, Chase would stick them close by for emergencies. Hunter and Scout knew the area’s best hiding spots. Going spot to spot was easy with the land’s relatively flat topography and by late afternoon they were circling to the southeast. The sun finally won a small victory and broke through the clouds bottom edge. It shined on their backs, relieving their chilled bodies from the whip of the open air.
The ride sapped away Hunter’s energy. He rolled to a stop and killed the engine. Scout pulled up next to him and did the same. They got off their motorbikes and Hunter’s legs shook like the world was tilting. He leaned against his bike to keep from sliding to his knees.
“Are you okay?”
Hunter didn’t need Scout’s concern right now. “I’m fine, just a little tired,” he said, wishing he’d come up with a better excuse. He guzzled water and felt sturdier.
“You think they told the truth?” Scout said. He poured water in his hands and washed the grime from his face. Hunter copied him and was refreshed by the cold splash.
“It’s starting to look that way.” Hunter scanned the area and took a calculation of the sun’s position. He stretched out his arms and popped his back and neck before shaking the stiffness out of his legs. “We got about another hour of daylight left. They didn’t come from the west and I was pretty sure they had. South isn’t looking too good, either.”
“Iowa it is then, huh? Well, we can make it to the east side of Independents before sunset and then head back into town. At least we’ll sleep better knowing they didn’t bring an army.”
Hunter reached into his coat sleeve and rubbed the small white scar on his arm. It was the only evidence left that a broken bone had popped through his skin.
“I forgot Catherine. What if they find out about her?”
Scout shook his head. “Your brother sent Samuel over to Ginger’s house when Chase and his crew showed up. They won’t find out about Catherine. Only the town council knows anything about her healing powers. No one’s saying a word. Jimmy will see to that.”
“He better; Catherine might be his only chance.”