Hungry Independents (Book 2)

by Ted Hill

  “What are you thinking about?” Margaret asked.

  Samuel smiled and put his arm around her shoulders. “Are we going to have one of your famous chats? Because I have a lot on my mind.”

  “And which of your issues would you like to start with?”

  Samuel laughed. “How about we start with the one where I’m not getting any?”

  Margaret gulped but allowed herself to remain calm. Talking about these types of things appeared to be popular in the present. She guessed she’d have to adjust to it. “Maybe you shouldn’t think about sex so much.”

  Samuel dropped his arm and his smile. “Um, I’m just playing. I really don’t want to talk about my issues.”

  “Maybe we should talk about what happened this morning.”

  “You mean how we narrowly escaped the hellhounds because you froze up?”

  Margaret frowned at him. “No, I want to talk about the couple of minutes you were no longer with us.”

  “Oh. You don’t like to beat around the bush.”

  “We’re not little kids playing hide and seek with our feelings. We need to let them out or they will fester and drive us crazy.”

  Samuel stopped. They were a block from Dylan’s house. He turned to Margaret with an open face, but his hands slid into his pockets like they held the really good secrets. “All right, what do you want to know?”

  “Do you remember anything?”

  “From when I died?”

  Margaret nodded.

  “I remember Jimmy.”

  “Jimmy?”

  “Yeah, he was lying in an open grave and then there was this bright light and I followed him back to my body. He told me everything was going to be all right. I asked him if he’d talked to Greg. He shook his head and then I woke up to find you lying topless next to me.” Samuel smiled a wide, toothy grin at her that quickly turned sad. “Of course, somebody had already covered you with my blanket.”

  Heat raced back into Margaret’s face, and this time she couldn’t quell her discomfort. “We better go find Dylan before dinner.”

  “That’s a great idea.” Samuel grabbed her hand and pulled her, chuckling along the way.

  They knocked on Dylan’s door and stood waiting around until too much time had passed.

  “Let’s check out back,” Samuel said.

  There were two outbuildings behind the house. The smell of burning wood that made the mouth water passed through the roof of the smokehouse Dylan operated for Chef Brittany. They found Dylan in the smaller wooden shed, fixing up his fishing gear for the evening. Samuel walked though the door after pounding on the side. Margaret followed, noticing a sudden switch in Samuel’s personality. Gone was the easygoing, lopsided grin and slouching. Samuel’s eyes fixed on Dylan with a fierce, dangerous glint.

  “What’s the word, Dylan? Picked anymore fights since lunchtime?”

  Dylan looked up from his seat at the work bench where he sharpened barbs on a fishing hook. Dark splotches circled his eyes like a raccoon, and a white strip of tape crossed the bridge of his nose as if to keep it from falling off. Dylan turned back to his work.

  “Are you here to beat the shit out of me?”

  Samuel leaned against the other end of the counter, next to stacks of plastic trays containing a rainbow collection of rubber worms. “Look, I just want all this stuff you’ve been stirring up to stop. Scout didn’t get Jimmy killed no matter what you heard.”

  Dylan laid down his whetstone and the hook on the table. “You don’t know that for sure. You weren’t there.”

  “I was,” Margaret said. “And it hurts me to know that everything we went through in Denver has led to so much anger and animosity. We lost a lot back there. Jimmy made the choice to save Hunter. No one made that choice for him. Scout fought to keep Jimmy there, but Jimmy knocked him down and took off. Whoever told you differently read the situation wrong. And if that someone was Billy, he arrived right when everything happened.”

  Dylan swiveled on his stool and faced them with unconvinced eyes. “What about when Scout and Raven left the night before and Raven hooked up with her old pals?”

  “You mean when she was captured by someone she trusted, who had been her best friend before she decided to make Independents her home?” Margaret didn’t wait for the obvious response building on Dylan’s tongue. “Raven gave up a lot to join us. She made a mistake and misjudged someone she cared about.”

  “And then Scout disobeyed Jimmy and went to save Raven on his own,” Dylan said, like he’d been there.

  “Dylan, have you ever been in love with someone?” Margaret asked.

  Dylan looked away.

  “Because one day when you find someone, I hope they never get stripped away from you. It’s not an easy thing to live with. I was awake when Scout returned after losing Raven. He was tearing himself apart inside worrying about her. And he alone saved Raven and Catherine. He even took out Patrick in the process. And Raven? She held out under terrible torture only to reveal a small piece of information when she could have told them everything.”

  Anger surged into Margaret as she defended actions by people she considered heroes. Certainly more heroic than her, because when you added everything together all the blame fell solely on her. That ugly thought cast about in her mind, sending hot tears down her cheeks.

  Samuel moved and curled his arm around her. “Hey, Molly, are you all right?”

  Molly. She had done so many terrible things before Catherine had healed her mind. Why did God do this to her? Margaret was one of His faithful followers. She had been there doing His Will from the beginning. What possible benefit could have been gained from the seventeen years without knowledge of her true identity? What purpose did she serve until this morning when Catherine brought it all back?

  Margaret pressed her face into Samuel’s chest and cried out her frustrations. Samuel rubbed her back and stroked her hair. She wept for a while and then backed awkwardly into a folding chair that Dylan held for her. She accepted the seat and wiped her eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” Margaret said.

  Samuel shrugged it off. “Don’t be. Your day started earlier than usual. You should see how emotional I get after picking beets all day. And yes, I think we’re having beets tonight.”

  Margaret took a deep breath, smiling at Samuel’s attempt to make her do just that. She refocused on Dylan. “Look, Scout didn’t make the perfect choice running after Raven, but he was doing what he thought was right, unlike when I led Chase to Catherine and then hit Jimmy over the head so Patrick could win the fight.”

  Both Dylan and Samuel looked away.

  “You could say that everything leading up to Jimmy’s death happened because of me. That’s something I have to live with, just like Hunter living with Jimmy’s sacrifice. But blaming Scout for any of it is just plain wrong.”

  Dylan spun back and forth on his stool. “Billy made it sound like Scout and Raven were responsible for everything. Why would he do that?”

  “Billy left everything he knew to join us. He was probably trying to fit in. Judging from what Ginger and Raven told me about Denver, he probably had to fight everyday just to stay alive. It’s different here. We take care of each other.”

  “I guess so,” Dylan said.

  “Plus, when we first met Billy, he had just killed Patrick to save Hunter. Billy still refuses to talk about it. Has he ever spoken to you about that?”

  Dylan shook his head. “Hunter told me about it. I never bring it up with Billy.”

  “Killing somebody like that when you’re barely nine has got to mess with your head,” Samuel said.

  Dylan winced, closing his eyes in apparent discomfort.

  Margaret scooted to the edge of her chair. “Are you okay?”

  “I’ve got a bad headache. I guess I didn’t count on Scout being so tough.”

  “Are you kidding? Scout’s scrappy. I bet you think twice next time.”

  “That’s not helping right now.” Margaret slid
off the chair towards Dylan. “Do you mind.” She held up her hands.

  His eyes widened in alarm. “What are you about to do?”

  “I’m not sure yet. I may be able to help.”

  “All right, just watch the nose. It’s tender as hell.”

  Margaret laid her hand on Dylan’s forehead. She prayed, asking for God to help ease Dylan’s pain and to allow her to mend his broken nose. Upon thinking amen, a light flooded into her spirit like molten grace—pure, alive and energizing. Margaret allowed the light to flow over Dylan and felt the healing begin.

  Samuel stumbled into the wall and several items clattered to the floor, but Margaret couldn’t break the process now that her healing was in motion. The light pulsed then fled back into her, tainted by the pain and the wounds that had been lifted from Dylan’s body. This was the unpleasant part. She brought all of that hurt inside of her and channeled it through. Then she lifted her head, opened her eyes, and all of the badness fled from her in a throbbing flash. She felt nauseated and extremely worn out. It had been a long time since she had performed a healing. Her legs refused her weight as she slipped from Dylan.

  Samuel caught her before she hit the ground. “My God, Molly, how did you do that?”

  Margaret wanted to answer, wanted to tell Samuel her real name, but the world dimmed around her and then she slept.

  Twenty-Two

  Jimmy

  Yesterday, Jimmy enjoyed digging his grave, without all the hassle and responsibility of feeding a whole town. He’d come to accept his fate of being dead. Like he had a choice, but death was no big deal. At least he found more across mortality’s threshold than simple oblivion. He was glad to be back among the living, even in his ghostly state. He had missed other people, so it was nice seeing all his friends again—especially Ginger.

  He followed after Catherine and Mark, careful not to float through anything and especially anyone. The handful of accidental times he’d shared space with a living person had really freaked him out. There was this sticky sensation, like he might actually become glued inside them if he didn’t pull away fast enough.

  He wanted time alone with Catherine to ask her about this whole being dead business. Maybe she could explain exactly what he could and could not do. All that depended on whether she knew the answers and if she was willing to share. She’d have to be straight with him now, right? Who was he going to tell in his present, intangible state?

  Jimmy was happy to see that Independents hadn’t changed after he left for Denver. This place was paradise compared to conditions there. He was proud of the society he helped build for kids to grow up in. Now they were growing up with Catherine’s help.

  Jimmy was so excited to see that Vanessa had made it past her eighteenth birthday. Did that end the plague? Catherine said she needed to cure Jimmy to save the world because Chase had started the plague by infecting Jimmy’s parents. He didn’t understand that. Why had his family become such a focal point for so much misery?

  “Hey, where are you wandering off to?” Catherine called.

  Jimmy had drifted away from the path without noticing. Mark was knocking on somebody’s front door, while Catherine hung back in the street, smiling at Jimmy.

  He shrugged, or at least thought he’d performed the action. He didn’t know how he appeared to Catherine when he couldn’t even see his own hand. He floated over next to her.

  “What’s Mark doing?”

  “Billy plays with some of the boys who live here. We’re just checking it on the way to Billy’s house.”

  “Who does Billy live with?”

  “He and Preston took over a house together a couple months ago. Before that he’d been living with me and Ginger, but I guess he found that too constraining. I always made him pour the tea and play Barbie dream house with me. He was a pretty decent Ken.”

  Jimmy smiled, remembering the day when he and Ginger discovered their mutual affection for one another. Somehow Catherine had known all along.

  “Remind me who Preston is?”

  “He’s about the same age as Billy. Another one of Hunter’s motorcycle gang recruits. Hunter is teaching them survival skills. I think your brother is ready to settle down.”

  Jimmy laughed at that. “How long have I been dead?”

  “Everybody settles down eventually, silly,” Catherine told him.

  Mark walked up, closing the conversation. “He’s not here. Let’s go try Billy’s house.”

  They started off again with Jimmy floating behind. He expected to feel something from the intense afternoon sunshine, but instead it was nothing as usual. Jimmy wanted time to walk the fields on the southern outskirts of town—his old stomping ground. Samuel probably had all the crops under control, but he wanted to check just to make sure.

  They walked to a ranch house that had the typical facial look with two windows for eyes and a door in the middle that made the nose. The porch was the mouth. This one smiled with neglect and Jimmy knew that, soon, somebody would have to replace the support beams underneath the sagging wooden planks. Mark stepped up and rapped three sharp knocks on the wooden frame of the screen door, which rattled on rusty hinges. No wonder Preston and Billy found this house vacant. Jimmy couldn’t wait to see the inside.

  The door swung open and he recognized the little kid that had protected Hunter in Denver. Jimmy would never forget the sight of Patrick lying in a pool of blood with a hatchet in his back. He could still hear the chickens clucking. Where had Patrick gone when he died? Jimmy had only been an hour behind him. Maybe Patrick was the last soul to enter Heaven, unless the other alternative was still open for business and had first dibs.

  “Hello, Billy,” Mark said. “We need to talk.”

  Billy’s eyes darted back and forth like he wanted to bolt and needed to figure out which direction to start running. Then his gaze settled on Jimmy for a moment. Billy’s mouth dropped open and he retreated from the door, moving into the shadowy interior.

  Mark and Catherine shared a look with one another. Catherine glanced back at Jimmy with a puzzled frown that he found troubling.

  “May we come in?” Mark asked.

  “Sure,” Billy said without enthusiasm.

  Mark opened the screen door that screeched in protest. Catherine walked in and Jimmy panicked, trying to rush up the porch and through the door before Mark, but Mark stepped in his way and Jimmy drifted to a stop before he passed through his old friend. The screen door banged shut, leaving Jimmy outside. Mark left the front door open so Jimmy decided to hang out on the porch and listen in.

  “Kind of dark, isn’t it, Billy?”

  “I like it that way.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m going to open the curtains so I don’t trip over anything, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “What is that smell?” Mark asked, pushing the curtains aside. “I think you got something rotting away in here.”

  “It came with the house. We haven’t been able to find where it’s coming from.”

  Jimmy stared in through the screen door. The open curtains brought needed sunlight into the sparse living room of Billy’s house. The little boy sat on a battered sofa with his hands tucked between his knees and his head down. The sun’s rays snuck past the dusty streaks in the window to rest on Billy. Catherine stood just inside the door and Jimmy couldn’t see anything of Mark except for his large shadow on the wall like some looming judge invading Billy’s privacy.

  “Billy, did you throw a rock at Raven?” Mark asked.

  The boy sat perfectly still. “Yes.”

  “Why would you do something like that? That’s not like you.”

  He shrugged.

  “What’s going on, Billy? Are you the one telling Dylan that Jimmy died because of something Scout did?”

  Billy lifted his head and looked at the door where Jimmy waited to hear the answer. He looked right at Jimmy and then dropped his head again. Something about the lack of color in Billy’s eyes was disturbing.

  C
atherine turned her head and spotted Jimmy on the other side of the screen door. Then she took two quick steps at Billy. “You see him, don’t you?”

  Billy didn’t move. He didn’t say a word.

  Mark’s shadow on the wall shrank until Jimmy saw Mark’s broad back come up behind Catherine. “See who, Catherine? Who did Billy see? What’s going on?”

  Catherine ignored him. Everything about her had tensed. She stood an inch taller and her tone grew harsh. Catherine was worried. That made Jimmy nervous as hell.

  “Billy, look at me.”

  Slowly, Billy lifted his gaze and met Catherine’s. She sucked in a breath at the same time Jimmy simulated the same action. Billy’s eyes were white orbs. He curled back his lips in a smile and his teeth had changed into little points, like a farm cat.

  “What the…?”

  “Mark, watch out!”

  Billy sprang to his feet, grabbing Catherine by the arm and yanking her behind him with inhuman force. She flew headfirst over the sofa into the wall with a loud wham and dropped onto the cushions.

  Mark balled his fists, ready to pummel some sense into the little kid.

  Jimmy moved through the screen right as Billy swiped Mark across the chest. Mark’s agonized scream rang out in the small living room. He stumbled away from Billy with stripes of red blood spotting through his torn orange T-shirt.

  Billy pressed Mark with a flurry of razor clawed swipes, backing the bigger boy into the wall. Mark held his hands out to protect himself. Billy worked his way closer and buried his teeth into Mark’s hip. Again Mark screamed and hammered down on top of Billy’s back. The little boy fell, but just as quickly pushed back up. Mark scrambled around the wall to escape.

  His mouth dripping with Mark’s blood, Billy stalked after him, licking his lips like he wanted more.

  “Billy!” Jimmy said.

  The boy turned, and Mark disappeared into the hallway. The tiny monster gazed at Jimmy with cloudy eyes and cocked his head. “Why are you here? You’re not supposed to be here anymore.”