Hungry Independents (Book 2) (26 page)

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.”

“Hello, Barbara. It’s about time you showed
up.”

“I’ve been locked away in a tower,” Barbie
said. “I thought you would have been kind enough to come to my
rescue.”

“I did.” Catherine walked over and hugged
Hunter. “I sent him to do it.”

Hunter returned Catherine’s hug. She looked
up at him. “You got your sight back.”

Scout slapped his forehead. “I knew there was
something different about you.”

Hunter smirked at him. “You have no
idea.”

Jimmy pushed back his hat and wiped the sweat
from his brow. It felt fantastic to be alive and digging. The
shovel was huge in Billy’s hands, but that only took some
adjustment and a bit of settling down to business. Jimmy hadn’t
been tall when he first started farming so many years ago. He
didn’t know where he stood as far as being alive again because he
still needed Catherine to explain everything. For all he knew, he
could drop dead any moment and float away. What happened to Billy?
His spirit or soul or whatever had gone somewhere.

Jimmy was close to completing his task. He
wasn’t about to let anyone other than Mark see what Billy had done
to his housemate. He had left the bedroom shaken earlier when he
went to see why Mark had been so upset. If Jimmy had a baseball
bat, he would have bashed his own head in just to keep out the
image of Preston torn asunder in his bed.

Jimmy’s stomach heaved again. Luckily he
skipped breakfast. He probably wouldn’t eat for days, but from his
earlier viewing of the fields, not eating might be his only
choice.

He pondered the situation, glad to think
about something else—something he understood. Farming had come
naturally in his first life. It only took a cursory view of the
devastation for Jimmy to know that nothing had survived the cloud
of bugs that descended on the fields. They even tore through the
greenhouse, where the more delicate vegetables and winter crops
grew. So in the middle of August, what could they do that would
provide food for the upcoming winter? Jimmy would have to check
Chef Brittany’s canned stores, kept in a separate building on Main
Street, and hope they’d had a good growing season. They would
supplement their diets with protein if there were any livestock
left. Jimmy would have to investigate more about the sheep, goats
and cattle. Their main source of protein had always been chickens
and hogs, but those were gone thanks to the hellhounds.

They needed to repair the greenhouse.
Expanding it was something they should have done already—nothing
like being forced into action. If Samuel had the seeds, then winter
wheat and barley needed planting now.

Jimmy brushed his arm across his face and
left a trail of sweat and grime. He wiped it off with the front of
his shirt. He removed the hat he found in Billy’s house and
scratched his head. He fought a fleeting memory about the plague.
Feeling stupid, he smiled because Billy was probably around ten
years old. Jimmy had plenty of time before he needed to start
worrying about the plague again.

He regarded the red Nebraska Cornhusker hat
with a black and bold N. Jimmy liked it. Until he had a cap on his
head, he never felt fully dressed. He rounded the bill, trying to
suit his preference. Good enough. Pulling the hat back on, he
tossed the shovel out of the grave. If he had a nickel for every
grave he’d dug in his various lifetimes, he’d have a lot of useless
nickels because there was nowhere to spend them.

Jimmy climbed out and walked toward the
house. The morning sunshine warmed his skin until he stepped into
the cool shade of the front porch. He waited a moment, trying to
gear himself up for what lay ahead. The longer he waited, the worse
Preston’s remains were likely to get. The sight and smell was bad
enough already. Jimmy tied one of Billy’s clean shirts around his
head, covering his nose and mouth. Luckily a plastic shower curtain
still hung in the bathroom where water no longer ran. Jimmy ripped
it down and trudged toward Preston’s waiting corpse.

He took several deep breaths then pushed his
way inside the dim room, heading straight to the window. He threw
it wide open. At the side of Preston’s bed, Jimmy laid out the
shower curtain on the floor. Being careful not to look at the
remains, he unhooked the corners of the fitted sheet then pulled
everything over the side onto the shower curtain. The body hit the
floor with an ugly flop. Jimmy wrapped Preston up, tied the loose
ends, and dragged the package, slowing only on the drop from the
porch. Then he moved quickly out into the sunshine again. He slid
Preston next to the open grave and dropped to his knees, rolling
the corpse with some respect and dignity until it fell into its
final resting spot.

He wasted no time burying the body. Refilled
in three minutes, Jimmy smoothed the mound with the back of the
shovel, giving it a couple pats to seal it down for eternity.

That’s when he heard the heavy breathing
behind him. He turned and found the youngest Brittany panting like
a thirsty dog. The lines in her face made her look sleepy; her dull
gray eyes stared at the mound of dirt. She held her fingers splayed
out at her sides.