by Ted Hill
“Do you want to go now? I was on my way out to see Mark and Vanessa.”
Samuel stood and stretched, his shirt lifted, exposing his flat stomach. Margaret quickly regarded the street outside, where kids now milled around cleaning up debris. Since Jimmy’s death, the kids of Independents had grown more responsible in the upkeep of their town. His legacy inspired that.
“Well, do you mind looking at the fields with me real quick? I’m sort of your personal guard until I’m told otherwise. Plus, I want to be there when the sheriff questions you.” Samuel’s smile stretched across his face, wide and toothy.
Margaret’s shoulders tightened with tension. A lot of people would be lining up for answers. It was one thing for Catherine to be so secretive, but these people had known Margaret, or rather Molly, for the better part of six years, and in her twin’s case, all of her life.
“Why do you want to be there when I see Mark?”
Samuel’s eyes twinkled like he knew a good joke and was trying to figure out if it was age appropriate for the audience. Normally he didn’t stop to consider. “You turned Dylan and me into electric bug zappers and then you healed your brother’s slit throat. I’d say you’re quite the miracle worker and I’d like to know how that is and if I can borrow the textbook. What you did to me last night—it was incredible.”
Margaret nodded. “Yes, it was.” She looked out the window once more. Emma had taken up position in the middle of the street, directing the others with a lot of pointing and shouting.
“So do we have a deal? You’re coming with me to the fields first?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Sure, you can walk on your own freewill or be dragged. I’d offer you a piggyback ride but that might send the wrong message to everyone we pass.”
Margaret laughed. “What, that you’re a big dork? I’m pretty sure that message has been received loud and clear.”
They left, walking down the stairs to ground level. Emma caught their attention and waved them over. Margaret followed Samuel.
“Great, we could use the extra hands,” Emma said as they arrived. “I’ve got all this glass to clean up along with this sticky roof gravel and there are some ripped awnings that will need to be mended. I’m counting on you to pick up the slack there, Molly, since Ginger is still recovering. The Jenson sisters are already disassembling the old material. You’ll probably need to make all new awnings. Maybe instead of stripes we can go with a bolder color that will really set off our Main Street area?”
“We’re headed out to check the fields,” Samuel told her. “Molly has to stick with me, but it looks like you have everything under control.”
“Well of course I do, but my people are getting hungry and we haven’t seen any of the Brittanys.”
“They were still cleaning up the mess inside when I carried Molly home late last night. They’re probably still sleeping. Go on in and set out some bread and fruit for everyone.”
Emma’s eyes bulged out. “Do you know what would happen if Chef Brittany found me messing around in her kitchen?”
“As a matter of fact, I do.” Samuel leaned over and spoke quietly so no one else but Margaret could overhear. “My advice: don’t get caught and make sure you have someone else around to blame if you do.”
He left quickly. Margaret offered Emma a reassuring pat on the shoulder in passing.
When Margaret caught up, she prodded an elbow into Samuel’s side. “You’re kind of a troublemaker.”
Samuel cocked an eyebrow with a self righteous smile. “I’m a full fledged troublemaker. We all have our hidden talents. You can heal people and I can cause great strife with a few well placed suggestions. I call it my master plan.”
“I call it a bunch of grief.”
The walk to the edge of town left them feeling less anxious about their destination. As they moved from Main Street, the debris of broken glass and roofing materials lessened and converted into green leaves and broken branches. The grasshoppers appeared to have ignored the houses completely.
The optimism vanished as soon as they crested the hill overlooking the fields. Total devastation was the word that sprung to Margaret’s mind.
“We are so dead,” Samuel said.
What lay before them looked like a giant lawnmower had ridden right over their food supply and torn it to shreds, scattering the chaff on the ground as far as their eyes could see. The orchard was stripped bare. Trees stood with their naked branches reaching towards the sky, robbed of their leaves and fruit.
“Should we get help and gather what we can?” Margaret asked.
Samuel stared out across the horizon of his hard labors these past many months. His face darkened with emotion. “I don’t know. It doesn’t look like anything is edible down there now.”
He stumbled down the hill in a trance, as if his feet were dragging him somewhere he didn’t want to visit. Margaret walked behind him with the same type of dread. She saw past the torn field into the future comprised of a long winter without enough food for everyone, a winter full of hardships and sacrifices. Fear crept over her for the inevitable season ahead, and the destruction of the crops was only the start. The monster that attacked her brother would be around all winter long, picking off the weak. This was Famine’s doing, and he was just warming up.
She spent the next half-hour following Samuel as he assessed the situation without hope of finding anything salvageable. By the end of the fruitless tour, neither Samuel nor Margaret felt like doing anything other than lying down and giving up. Margaret knew she should be stronger. That she should be the one sharing God’s light, starting with Samuel, but overwhelming despair left her hollow and scared.
“We better go see your brother now,” Samuel said. “He and Vanessa should be the first to know that we probably won’t survive the winter.”
Margaret shook her head, wanting to say something, but nothing came to mind. Samuel took off at a fast pace, walking up the hill to Independents. Margaret ran to catch him. “There’s a reason this is happening, Samuel,” she said at last, not knowing the reason, but wanting to encourage him. “He has a purpose for all of this.”
Samuel stopped short, and Margaret bowled into his back, knocking him down in the dirt road. Samuel pushed up slowly to his knees. Margaret grabbed his arm and aided him to his feet.
“He who?” Samuel said, brushing off his knees. “And don’t tell me Scout has you believing too. We’re on our own. The only purpose out there is the one we make for ourselves.”
“That’s not true. What about the miracles you’ve witnessed? What about the light last night that gave you power to fight your enemies? Where do you think that came from?”
Samuel kicked at a divot in the road and looked up at Margaret. “I don’t know. But what purpose could He possibly have in allowing our crops to be destroyed? How do we know His purpose is the one controlling everything? Maybe something more powerful is calling the shots and He’s along for the ride like us.”
“That’s just not possible. There is no one more powerful than God. That’s not to say others can’t affect the world in which we live.”
“If God is so powerful, then why doesn’t He just put a stop to this and give us back our lives?”
Molly reached out and took Samuel’s hands. “I think He is. That’s why Catherine and I are here. He is making a stand and He’s doing it in Independents. That’s why that creature and his insects came. Everything that will decide the fate of the world is going to happen right here.”
Samuel’s hands hung loose in hers. He stared into her eyes as if searching for the truth hidden behind them. “Who are you, Molly?”
She squeezed his hands and reached a decision. She would no longer hide the truth from him or the other older kids in town. This was too much for them not to know and understand. They had the right to know.
“My true name is Margaret. I am a holy saint. I have been placed here to fight this evil by your side. We will prevail through this, Sam
uel, with God’s guidance and grace.”
Thirty-Four
Scout
Scout woke to bright sunshine streaming through his bedroom window. He tied on his shoes and stepped out with the hope that Brittany’s was still serving breakfast. His hunger was second only to his concern that last night’s events would carry over into today. He stutter-stepped onto Main Street, expecting to find a mess, but instead the whole place had been miraculously cleaned up. How he slept through the entire street sweeping project mystified him.
The crowd noise from Brittany’s flowed outside like a wave of jabbering, excited voices. Scout entered through the doorway instead of jumping through the empty window frame. When the door closed behind him, silence swept over the room in a sea of shushes. Like the beginning of a spring shower, clapping slowly grew to a crushing, tumultuous applause. Everyone rose to their feet and faced Scout. Cheers rained down on him, and the look of joy on everyone’s face nearly made Scout weep from the unexpected pleasure of appreciation.
Even more unexpected, Dylan approached him first and shook his hand with a genuine smile and a firm grip, convincing Scout that this was no elaborate hoax. This was real.
“What’s going on, Dylan?”
“Word has gotten around, Preach… Sorry, I mean, Scout. You’re a hero. That’s all everybody’s been talking about. How you came in here and told everyone what to do with the tables. The tables, man. If they hadn’t set them up like you told them, we’d have lost half the town when the windows blew and the bugs poured inside.”
Kids formed a tight circle around Scout, holding out their hands and shaking his, patting him on the back and gripping his arm. The girls gave him hugs and the boys smiled broadly like they were happy to count Scout among them. This was the best moment of his entire life.
After the fiftieth “You’re welcome,” Scout cut through the remainder of the crowd in search for food. Dylan followed.
“Man, then you fought through that swarm of bugs and saved Ginger and her baby. I’m sorry I doubted you.”
Scout finally gave into blushing embarrassment. He waved Dylan off. “I was just here when it happened. You’d have done the same thing. At least you and Samuel were able to fight off that creep.”
Dylan leaned against the buffet where Scout was picking out bread and fruit for his breakfast. “Yeah, but we had help. I don’t know what’s happened to Molly, but she’s different. She healed my broken nose last night before the bugs hit town.”
Scout was considering the limited options of the buffet and wondered what was up with the Brittanys this morning. They were up late last night cleaning when he’d left Luis’s for home. Then he remembered why Dylan needed his nose fixed.
“I’m sorry about the cheap shot. I hope your nose doesn’t hurt too much.”
“Man, it hurt like a fucker… Sorry, Scout. I don’t mean to cuss in front of you.”
Scout laughed. “Didn’t you hear what I called Billy yesterday? Don’t worry about it.”
“Well, we both had it coming. I’m sorry I listened to him.” Dylan paused, rubbing his arm and looking at the floor. “I’m sorry about Raven.”
Scout lowered his head. The apple shook in his hand. He’d been trying to think about something other than her, but the reminder stabbed him in the chest. How could the earlier elation fall away so quickly?
He let the topic drop. Raven left because of Dylan and Billy, plain and simple. There was no reason why he should forgive them, now or ever— but especially not now. Scout needed time to heal and move on.
Dylan nodded like he understood Scout’s unspoken feelings on the matter. “Have you seen the fields yet?”
Scout carried his plate to his usual table, now void of his normal dining companions. Luis and Ginger were in the clinic. Mark and Vanessa weren’t around either. That left Samuel, Molly and Catherine among the missing. Of course Hunter had yet to return from his ride in the Big Bad, but that was no surprise. Scout sat and Dylan claimed a chair beside him.
“I just got up. What’s going on with the fields?”
Dylan scooted his chair closer. “It’s bad. The bugs ripped the crops to shreds. I’ve been waiting on Samuel to find out what he plans on doing.” Dylan leaned in and lowered his voice. “I don’t know how we’re going to make it through the winter.”
Scout sat back in his chair. The apple and the slice of bread he’d taken for breakfast sat before him. All he wanted to do was eat. If the fields were as bad as Dylan was letting on, this might be the biggest meal he would enjoy for quite a while. During that first winter after the adults had died from the plague, Scout had gone several days with less food than what he was about to eat.
“I’m sure we’ll come up with something.” It sounded lame even to him. If the fields were as decimated as Dylan said, then they needed to start making immediate plans for the winter. “Let’s go look at the fields. I bet Samuel is already out there. Then we’ll go to Mark and Vanessa and start figuring out how we’re going to make it. We’ll need Brittany there too.”
He stood, pocketed the apple, and took small bites of the bread. All eyes turned his way and the noise of the cafeteria wavered. The kids applauded Scout on his way outside. He nodded appreciation, but hoped he wouldn’t have to see these same kids starving in the next week or two. He met as many eyes as he could then exited the cafeteria with Dylan in his wake.
The August heat warmed his skin as he finished the bread, feeling better with something in his stomach. By the time they reached the end of Main Street, he heard a familiar sound. Scout wanted it to be Raven riding her motorbike back to him. Maybe she realized the Big Bad wasn’t all that great compared to life in Independents.
The bike rounded the corner and Hunter throttled his big KTM up the remaining stretch of road to where Scout and Dylan waited. A dark-haired girl hung on to his waist and Scout shook his head. Here he was hoping Raven was coming back to him, while Hunter rode up with a new hot chick. Like that guy needed more air to inflate his ballooning ego.
Hunter killed the engine and smirked at Scout. “Miss me?”
“Like the plague.”
“Wow, you’re in a great mood.”
“It was a rough night. Who’s your girlfriend?”
“She’s not my girlfriend,” Hunter said a little too quickly. The girl behind him jabbed him in the shoulder and he winced. “At least she’s not right now.”
“What does that mean?”
“It’s complicated. This is Barbie. Barbie, meet Scout and Dylan.”
“Hello, boys,” Barbie said, dismounting from Hunter’s bike. She shook the tangles out of her thick brown hair. “The rest of the gang will be here soon. Do you have some food for them to eat? They’re starving.”
Scout and Dylan looked at one another.
Dylan spoke first. “The rest of what gang will be here soon?”
“I sort of rescued a bunch of kids from Cozad,” Hunter said. “It’s a long story, but they had no food and nowhere else to go.”
Hunter looked around the street as if he expected to see something that wasn’t there. “Um, did you guys have a storm last night?”
Scout narrowed his eyes at his friend. “No. We had a mass of grasshoppers fall from the sky right here on Main Street before they headed out to plunder the crops. We were just going out there to take a look.”
“Yeah, we met up with those bugs before you guys. I was afraid they were heading this way. Did anything else happen?”
“Was he tall and creepy?” Scout said.
Hunter dropped his head and was quiet for a moment. A large motorhome pulled up to the corner and stopped before the driver saw them and then drove the rest of the way. The brakes squealed as the big white contraption halted and the engine cut off.
Scout turned around at the sound of murmuring. The kids of Independents had stepped out of Brittany’s for a look at the new arrivals.
“We need to gather everyone together, now,” Hunter said. “We’re in a lot
of danger.”
Scout looked into the front windshield of the motorhome and saw a bunch of skinny kids staring back. Scout acknowledged Barbie. “You don’t appear to be with them.”
She placed her hands on her hips and tilted her head. “Why do you say that?”
“You don’t look as hungry as the ones in the motorhome.”
“She’s got her own special talents,” Hunter said. “Kind of like our little friend Catherine.”
“Then she isn’t the only one. Molly has developed some of those same talents.”
Barbie bounced with excitement. “Margaret’s here too?”
Scout shook his head. “I don’t know a Margaret, but his girlfriend, Molly, was very busy yesterday.”
“Oh, no,” Barbie said.
Hunter looked from Scout to Barbie several times before settling on her. “What?”
Barbie squeezed her forehead like a ball-peen migraine pounded her temple. “Please tell me your girlfriend’s name isn’t Molly.”
“Why does it matter what her name is?” Scout asked first.
Hunter nodded. “What he said.”
The crowd from Brittany’s grew bolder and scuttled closer for a chance to hear the conversation. As a group, they were amazingly quiet, except for Emma.
“I don’t think she’s that pretty,” Emma said to someone in the crowd.
Barbie shot her a look that could have melted the pavement underneath the young girl. Emma, however, returned the look as coolly as a glacier.
Barbie smiled and the three boys took a step away from her. She ignored their retreat and returned her attention to Hunter. “Molly is short for Margaret. Margaret, Catherine and I are sometimes referred to as the Three Holy Maids, or the Three Virgin Martyrs.”
Scout, Hunter and Dylan looked at each other.
Barbie threw up her hands. “Aren’t there any Catholics left in the world?”
“I think these kids have enough going on without getting a history lesson from the Church,” Catherine said from behind Barbie.
Barbie swiveled on her feet so fast that she nearly fell over. “Hello, Catherine.”