Sudden Independents

by Ted Hill

  “Why did you have to do it today?”

  “I didn’t. It was yesterday.” Hunter closed his eyes. The darkness was nice. He drifted into the solitude and smoothed out a quiet spot to lie down. Twelve hours in this dark spot would be awesome.

  “When are you leaving?”

  “Hmm? What?” Hunter’s eyes fluttered open. The light in the room, though dim, was horrible. He focused on Jimmy’s face and the coals of fury rekindled in Hunter’s heart. He wrapped his rage in a tight package, waiting until he found the kid that did this to his brother; then he’d deliver.

  “You guys should probably get going.”

  “We will as soon as Scout rounds up enough help.”

  “Nobody under fourteen goes.”

  “We know. Don’t worry about it. There’ll be plenty of volunteers.”

  Slowly, Jimmy rolled his head over so he could look into the adjoining living room. Gauze and tape covered his various injuries, giving him the appearance of a partially wrapped mummy. Only time could heal him now.

  Hunter scratched his shoulder blade and yawned. The fire in the hearth crackled as the logs shifted, filling the house with needed warmth. Ginger and Luis dozed where they’d fallen on different ends of a sofa.

  Hunter followed the line of his brother’s sight. “You and Ginger, huh?”

  Jimmy smiled carefully. “Yeah. Somehow Catherine knew. Now it’s as if Ginger and I were always meant to be, you know?”

  Hunter gave his recent relationship with Molly an inner glance and found their final moment together displeasing. The way he’d dumped her depressed him more than he was willing to admit. He shoved a quick answer into the silence. “Not really.”

  Jimmy eased his head back toward Hunter. “You and Molly didn’t feel the same way? You guys seemed pretty inseparable.”

  “It wasn’t like I had a choice. That’s why I broke up with her. She was clingy, and bossy, and a pain most of the time. To be honest, the only good thing was her looks but that doesn’t replace a decent personality.”

  “Better keep comments like that to yourself. I think Mark is shaken up more than anyone right now.”

  “She’s seriously twisted. Why didn’t I notice that before all this happened?”

  “Who isn’t twisted right now? We’re lucky to be halfway sane after everything we’ve lived through. Top that off with the plague and were lucky someone’s not burning down a different house every night.”

  “Maybe it would be better if Mom and Dad were here to tell us what to do.”

  Jimmy sighed. “Even without parents, no one has the right to be reckless. Everyone needs to be accountable”

  “That’s asking a lot of some people.”

  “Those are the ones we help.”

  “How?”

  Jimmy closed his eyes. “We need to learn that before it’s too late.”

  Hunter leaned back, struck by a sudden ugly thought. He squinted hard at his brother. “Were we just talking about me?”

  Jimmy cracked a smile through his busted lips. “Were we?”

  “Damn, Jimmy, that’s not funny.”

  After a chuckle rolled from Jimmy’s chest, he coughed a little blood onto his chin.

  Hunter swabbed the blood away with a damp towel and gave him a sip of water. “I’m going to kill that son of a bitch after we track him down.”

  “Why?” Jimmy asked. “He causes pain to escape his own.”

  “What are you trying to be some kind of Saint?”

  “I’m just saying. So this kid beat me up. It’s over. He’s gone. I’m not dead.”

  “But we’re going after him, aren’t we?”

  “No,” Jimmy said, looking like a possessed raccoon with his matching set of black eyes. “You’re going after Catherine and that’s it. I don’t want you fighting that Patrick kid for me. If you have to go through him to get to Catherine, make sure you have lots of backup with you. It was all I could do to keep that guy down as long as I did.”

  “What about Molly?”

  “She made her choice.”

  “What about Mark?”

  “He’ll have to make his. I wish he wasn’t going, but I understand why. I’d be going if it were you.”

  Hunter ruffled his brother’s hair. “Aw, you’re so sweet.”

  Jimmy winced. “Careful, that’s where your girlfriend whacked me.”

  “She’s not my girlfriend. At least she didn’t burn your house down. I still can’t figure out why she’d hit you like that though.”

  Hunter tracked Jimmy’s gaze again to Ginger curled up on the sofa. Hunter liked Ginger. She was sweet, good natured, and attractive in different ways than Molly. Molly talked bad about Ginger, but she talked bad about everyone so that was nothing new. He guessed Molly’s main problem with Ginger was jealousy. Ginger was far and away more talented at sewing than Molly, but he’d known better than to track down that conversation with his former girlfriend. That would have been suicidal.

  “So why did she hit you?”

  Jimmy looked at Hunter, and then at the ceiling. “The night you found Catherine, I went out to make sure Molly was all right after the little blowout she had with Vanessa.”

  “Yeah, I heard something about Ginger making baby clothes. Typical Molly crap right.”

  “Yeah, well. When I found her… Look, let’s just forget about it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s typical Molly crap.”

  Hunter sat back. That was about as close to profanity as his brother ever walked. “What happened? Did she throw herself at you or something?”

  Jimmy continued staring at the ceiling.

  “You got to be kidding me.” Hunter laughed.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “You aren’t exactly her type.”

  “And you are? Who did she run to after I told her I liked someone else?”

  That thought swam around Hunter’s mind until it surfaced like a hungry shark ready to take a massive bite of gray matter.

  Jimmy played lifeguard and kept him afloat. “Like you said, it’s typical Molly crap.”

  “So you’re saying the only reason she—”

  “I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m sorry.”

  “No, no, that’s all right. Really it’s okay. It’s kind of cool.”

  Jimmy raised an eyebrow.

  Hunter smiled. “I was used. That’s awesome. I don’t feel nearly as bad for dumping her the way I did. Now I realize she had it coming. I mean really, hitting on me because my big brother shot her down. How twisted is that?”

  Someone across the room coughed. “Uh, guys, we’re ready,” Scout said from the door.

  Mark stood beside him, looking like an axe murderer wishing for a chainsaw. He crossed the room, snatched Hunter from his seat and pinned him to the wall.

  Hunter gasped as the air was forced from his lungs. He couldn’t breathe from Mark shoving him against his chest and his back hurt from where it slammed into the wall.

  Mark’s heated face loomed an inch away. “Why don’t you tell me just how twisted my sister is, Hunter? I really want to know since you’re the one who’s been sleeping with her for the past three months! Did she put out enough for you? Did you like turning my sister into a slut?”

  “It wasn’t like that at all! Get your hands off me!”

  “Then tell me what it was like! You were the last one to talk with her before she torched your house and knocked Jimmy across the head!”

  Hunter slapped Mark’s hands away and shoved him back; his anger rippling through him like a turbulent red tide. “I’m not telling you shit!”

  Hunter dodged Mark’s fist that sailed over him and punched a hole through the drywall. Scout arrived with Samuel and they wrapped Mark up and hauled him back struggling and reaching to get another shot at Hunter before finally giving up and going limp. He slumped on the sofa, hid his eyes with a trembling hand and cried. His body shook. His legs kicked in a spastic fit.

  J
immy managed to sit up and was hacking blood onto his chin. Ginger and Luis rushed over and coaxed him into lying back and settling down; tending to him before he made his injuries worse.

  Hunter straightened his sweater into place and brushed his fingers through his hair. He stared at the floor, ashamed of playing a part in Mark’s pain. Mark resembled his sister so much it was eerie in a way that made Hunter even more sympathetic. A part of him ached for Molly despite his thoughts on her personality. He never considered how their relationship affected Mark. Obviously, Mark had never approved.

  Everyone waited, allowing Mark enough time to work through more of his grief. After a while, Jimmy broke the silence.

  “You better get going. Take care of each other before anything else.”

  Hunter snatched his leather jacket off the chair and crossed the room. Scout handed him his ski mask, gloves, scarf, and goggles. A gust of cold air slapped him in the face as he pushed through the doorway. Two SUVs waited at the curb with eight different boys packed inside, everyone wearing grave expressions. Hunter and Scout would ride their motorbikes so they could track and follow the trail of Catherine’s kidnappers.

  Scout walked up behind Hunter as they both slipped on their winter gear. “Those clouds aren’t going to hold for long, and when they dump, we’ll lose everything.”

  Hunter pulled down his goggles and swung his leg twice before sliding onto his new motorbike. Mark passed him without comment.

  Another jolt of pain laced through Jimmy’s body and tugged. He now lay on a firm hospital bed in the clinic with his shirt off; his chest covered instead with ugly purple bruises. Relaxing was tough, even with everyone gone except Ginger. Luis snoozed with his head on his desk, his gentle snores crossing the space between doctor and patient. Jimmy knew he’d gotten everyone up early, but the pain refused his own attempts at sleep.

  “I have to sit up,” he told Ginger.

  Ginger worked the mechanical gears that raised the head of the bed. Jimmy’s face tightened from the movement, but his ribs didn’t hurt as much once he was up right.

  He held Ginger’s hand and offered it a reassuring squeeze to let her know everything was okay. He guessed she still agonized over not escaping and bringing back help in time, but he was just thankful Patrick hadn’t gone caveman on her.

  Light filtered in between the blinds, cold and gray, chasing away the darkness. Jimmy wished the light could do the same for his spirits. His ribs were killing him. Luis suspected a couple of them were broken, but he couldn’t confirm it without X-rays. He said they’d heal with time and gave Jimmy meds for the pain. The medicine did squat from what Jimmy could tell.

  “Does your head hurt?” Ginger asked.

  “Not too bad.”

  “I can’t believe she did this. I never thought Molly would hurt someone. This just doesn’t add up.”

  “Molly’s been angry for quite a while. I wish she hadn’t chosen last night to pop, but what can you do.”

  “She used to have a crush on you.”

  “Yeah, I know. I told her I liked someone else.”

  “You did. Who was that?”

  Jimmy smiled as much as busted lips would allow.

  “Me?” It was cute the way she pointed to herself. “I’m glad you didn’t tell her that. She was hard enough on me.”

  “Well, now you’ve been promoted.”

  Ginger frowned. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “Congratulations.”

  She narrowed her brown eyes. “Not exactly the way I planned to get promoted.” Then her eyes widened. “Wait, I don’t know the first thing about running a store.”

  Jimmy chuckled, still a bad idea; his eyes filled with fresh tears and he was forced to focus on his breathing. He patted Ginger’s hand.

  “You’ve been running that store since you started,” he finally said. “Why do you think we put you there? Molly couldn’t sew a stitch. Just keep doing what you’ve always done.”

  The sounds of a new day interrupted their conversation. A gaggle of geese honked their flight plan overhead, the cold wind whistled against the window, and kids hurrying past on their way to breakfast discussed the details of the house fire in excited tones.

  Ginger sighed. “I had to keep my crush on you a secret because of her. I used to do things for you, like when I planted the flower bed outside your house.”

  “That was you?” Jimmy smiled, finally fitting all the pieces together. “I should have figured with all the flower pots in your house. Maybe you should bring that green thumb out to the fields with us.”

  “No thanks. I like sewing. The flowers are just a hobby.”

  Jimmy began noticing that each new breath felt like he was inhaling through a narrow straw with a giant spitball lodged in the center. He gripped the sheets.

  “Are you okay?” Ginger asked.

  “I… I can’t catch my breath.”

  “Luis!”

  Luis leaped from his chair with a piece of paper stuck to his forehead. “What?”

  “He’s having trouble breathing.”

  Jimmy didn’t like the way Luis frowned, assuming that’s never a good sign when it comes from a doctor who’s taking care of you.

  “One of the broken ribs might have punctured a lung. It’s pretty common with rib fractures.”

  “What can we do about it?” Ginger asked.

  Luis placed a hand on Jimmy’s shoulder. “I have to re-inflate your lung.”

  “How?” Jimmy asked, with a bit more of a wheeze.

  Luis offered him a weak smile. “I’m not sure yet. Give me a little time to read up on the procedure.”

  “Take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

  Jimmy suspected he sounded brave but he was barely holding his bladder in check. Broken ribs, punctured lung. He couldn’t even do his daily plague self-checkup because there were so many different aches and pains.

  Luis searched through his medical library and selected one book from a shelf. Then he sat at his desk, flipping pages and murmuring to himself.

  Ginger pinched her eyebrows together in a tight knot. Jimmy squeezed her hand again. Her fear was bright when she looked at him. She averted her eyes to their clasped hands and returned his squeeze.

  “It’s going to be okay,” Jimmy said. “Luis’s got the brains and the nerve to handle this.”

  She touched his lips. “Shush. Don’t talk so much. Save your strength.”

  He kissed her fingers and earned a smile for the effort. She caressed his cheek.

  Ten minutes passed. “Luis?” Jimmy said.

  Luis glanced at him over the cover of his book, perturbed. “What?”

  “What’s the word?”

  “Thoracentesis.”

  “What the hell does that mean?” Ginger said. She shrugged apologies at their shocked expressions. Jimmy never heard Ginger curse before; he kind of liked it.

  He nodded at Luis. “What she said.”

  Luis ran his finger through the page he’d been reading and garbled a bunch of words at him. “Basically, the puncture caused fluid to seep into your lung, hampering their normal function. I have to insert a hollow needle into the pleural cavity of your chest in order to drain the fluid and allow the oxygen to re-inflate your lung. After that, the hole will heal on its own.”

  Jimmy said, “Is that all.” His bladder tingled.

  “Pretty much,” Luis replied, placing the book on his desk. “Now I just have to find everything I need. Ginger, can you give me a hand?”

  Ginger planted a tender kiss on Jimmy’s cheek before leaving. He closed his eyes. Her floral scent reminded him of fabric softener and suddenly he was five years old again, swimming in a pile of warm laundry fresh from the dryer while his mom chided him. Five-year-old Jimmy giggled and hunkered deeper into the soft, warm folds of fabric. Then his mother grabbed his leg and pulled him out, wrapping him in a hug and kissing him on the cheek.

  “Lidocaine,” Luis’s voice invaded his happy m
emory. “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.

  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.