Hungry Independents (Book 2)

by Ted Hill

  Curfew began at eight unless something special at Brittany’s kept kids out later. As one of the older kids and a member of the town council, Molly didn’t worry about getting busted. Especially since her brother Mark was the sheriff and enforcer of the curfew. Plus, she knew Mark’s new job wiped him out—watching his son all day while his wife, Vanessa, taught the young ones at school. Still, Molly decided to go the opposite way of their house, just in case.

  The scent of wet grass brought a refreshing bounce to her steps. She found herself following old paths that led her to the rubble of a house where she used to live. She had created the rubble in a blaze of rage, longing and sorrow. Hunter’s old house was a reminder of all the terrible things Molly had been responsible for ten months ago and the strides she’d made since Catherine had healed her troubled mind.

  She left one house for another. This house had different memories. It stood on the edge of town overlooking the fields where all the vegetable and fruit crops grew for the kids of Independents. Molly used to come to this house a lot too, but she’d never gone inside. This had been Jimmy’s house, Hunter’s older brother. Jimmy died so Hunter could live. Hunter carried the weight of that event on troubled shoulders, refusing to share the load with anyone, not even Molly. Someday she would break through and convince her boyfriend that what happened wasn’t his fault, but until then she’d keep researching ways to help until something clicked.

  The front door opened and she considered running like a child caught doing something naughty. Samuel was just as startled.

  “Holy crap!” Samuel jumped when the screen door slammed behind him. “Why are you creeping around out here? You scared the hell out of me.”

  Molly laughed at the older boy in the tie-dye shirt. “I’m sorry, Sammy. I couldn’t sleep.”

  Samuel stooped over and collected his work boots by the door. Molly noticed the other pair left behind. Samuel sat on the porch steps, slipped his feet inside the boots, and laced up. He stomped on a grasshopper and kicked it off his concrete step.

  “You couldn’t sleep, so you came out here to visit old Sammy.” His mouth stretched into a giant smile, and Molly could almost read his mind. “Hunter isn’t back yet, is he?”

  “No, he’s supposed to get back tomorrow.”

  “Uh huh, good luck with that. Jimmy never learned either.”

  “Never learned what?”

  Samuel leaned back like he was hoarding all the good information. He sucked on a tooth; a real unattractive habit. “So, I get it now. Hunter’s gone and you’re feeling lonely, but before you get all hot and bothered, I must warn you that Hunter is one of my best friends and I will not allow you to cheat on him with me more than once… maybe twice. After that you’ll just have to tell him that it’s over and that you’ve found a real man.”

  Molly smiled. “Do you realize how dumb you are?”

  Samuel stuck out his bottom lip and looked on with droopy eyes. “No. But I hear about it all the time. One day I’ll find someone who takes me seriously.”

  Molly sat next to him on the steps. “What are you doing up this early?”

  “I’m going to kill some grasshoppers if I can find the right pesticide. Those bugs keep destroying our crops faster than the Brittanys are able to can them. Besides, I’m up this time every morning. A lot of us hard working types are early risers. John and Alex are collecting eggs and slopping hogs by now, Frank, Sarah and Jessie are tending to the goats, sheep and cattle, and Dylan is probably out setting trotlines. I bet the Britts are already in the kitchen cooking breakfast.”

  “Why not wait until daylight?”

  “Because I like to finish the tough jobs before the sun pops up. It still gets hotter than hell out in the fields by noontime. That’s when I go take a nap in the shade.”

  “I knew you didn’t work all day. Hunter’s convinced that Jimmy never took a break. I think it’s what drives him.”

  Samuel sucked on his tooth again. “Well, Hunter’s right. Jimmy was a workhorse. He never took naps. I’ve got three extra field hands doing the work that Jimmy used to do.”

  Molly leaned over and bumped him shoulder to shoulder. “You’re kidding?”

  “Not about Jimmy.” Samuel tied a blue bandanna around his head. “See, Hunter and I have a lot in common. We both had tremendously hard working brothers that accomplished a lot during their short lives. Greg led us here and Jimmy kept us fed.”

  Molly gazed at Samuel, seeing the hurt and pain in his eyes that he kept tightly shut off from everyone. His brother and his best friend were gone. Both of them lived in this house with him. Jimmy moved in the day Greg died. Now Samuel lived alone, refusing any new housemates.

  He broke eye contact and looked over the crops to the horizon. “Try living up to that.”

  The sound of shifting grass broke their conversation and Molly and Samuel stood up on the porch. A massive black dog lumbered out of the field next to the house. The creature shook its bulk and snorted, like allergies had gotten the better of it. Then four more giant dogs joined the first. Bright red eyes gleamed in the darkness, locking on Molly and Samuel. A deep growl rumbled from their chests and the leader padded forward, lowered its muzzle, and bared its teeth.

  “Get in the house,” Samuel whispered.

  Molly trembled. She told her stupid foot to step back, but the sight of those terrible beasts with their giant maws kept her feet planted on the porch steps. The leader moved closer and the other four widened their positions in case someone chose to run away from the house.

  “Molly, get into the freaking house,” Samuel said it louder this time.

  The lead dog barked and snapped at the air, showing them what it had in mind. Samuel reached over and retrieved a shovel leaning against the railing. He brought the long handle up and held the spade high. The metal glinted in the moonlight like a mystical sword created for putting down such trouble.

  The lead dog paused now that an actual threat had presented itself. The others continued closing the loop on long skinny legs with their skin stretched tight over protruding ribs. Their tails hung straight and low without swaying.

  Samuel stepped down in front of Molly. The leader leaned back on its haunches and barked another loud warning. The others stopped and watched for Samuel’s next move.

  “Molly, get in the house. I have your back. Slam the door shut when I come in behind you. Wait ’til I’m inside.”

  Molly liked the plan. She knew she should do exactly what Samuel instructed. Her mind was screaming at her, but her body refused.

  “Molly!”

  “I can’t, Samuel. I can’t.”

  “You have to!”

  The lead dog took another step. The other red eyes watched for what would happen next. Their rumbling chorus resumed.

  Samuel made a quick move off the porch steps onto the walkway and screamed a challenge. The dog slinked back a couple of feet. The others watched and waited. Samuel swung the spade back and forth, slicing through the air. The lead dog stayed out of range, baring its teeth and growling, saliva spilling from its mouth. Samuel screamed again and the dog rose to the challenge with a series of furious barks. The rest began to circle Samuel like they were separating him from the herd, but he caught on. He tripped backing up, and whacked his head on the bottom step.

  The shovel clattered on the walkway as the lead dog charged.

  Four

  Molly

  Finally, Molly snapped into action. Fear coursed through her limbs, but she pushed through the barrier when the lead dog closed over Samuel like a juicy pork chop. Molly jumped off the porch and kicked the beast in the head with a sickening thud. She snatched up the shovel and jabbed the spade into the rows of teeth as the dog’s head swiveled back. The dog yelped in pain, retreating behind the others in the pack.

  Samuel lay motionless on the ground with his eyes closed.

  “Samuel! Samuel, are you all right? You have to get up!”

  No response. The two dogs in the middl
e separated and crept forward, wary now that Molly had shown her backbone. The injured dog slinked off to lick its wound and await the outcome.

  Molly gripped the shovel’s worn handle with slippery palms. Afraid to dry them on her pants, she hoped she could hang on until Samuel came around. She nudged him with a toe. He moaned once, but nothing more.

  The dog on her right sprang forward and she stepped over Samuel to meet its charge. The beast stopped and crouched again. On her left, the other canine came in low at her legs. Molly stabbed the shovel blade down and caught it in the neck. The cutting edge bit with force and another whining shriek echoed in the darkness. The animal rolled over and Molly struck its side, penetrating its body.

  She lifted and twirled back as the dog on her right attempted to sneak up. In the motion of her spin, the shovel hit the post that supported the porch overhang, sending vibrations through her hands and arms. Exposed without the shovel between them, Molly stumbled when the dog bowled into her side and knocked her against the railing. She slipped her hands up the handle and drove downward into the animal’s back as its menacing teeth sought her legs. Molly hammered the canine repeatedly with the blunt handle, screaming as fear fueled her strikes. The attempts to bite her ceased and Molly kicked the dog’s side, spun the shovel around, and buried the spade in its back. The animal whimpered, fell and bled.

  With Molly out of position to protect Samuel, the last two dogs pounced on him. One bit into his leg while the other bared its teeth close to Samuel’s throat and watched Molly with red, intelligent eyes.

  Molly didn’t pause to think. Using the shovel as a lance, she charged the animal biting Samuel, spearing its side and taking the beast all the way to the ground. The other one slammed into her and this time Molly was knocked off her feet into a flowerbed.

  She lost her grip on the shovel from the hard landing. The dog followed, its heavy body pinning her, foul hot breath on the back of her neck. Trapped, she clawed at the dirt and flowers in panic. She waited for the sharp pain that would carry her death close behind.

  A tremendous roar sounded and the weight lifted off her with a giant clash and a surprised yip. Molly pushed up and regained her feet, searching for the shovel’s protection. She found it in the flowers and spun to help her defender.

  Her brother Mark, in nothing more than his striped boxer shorts, wielding an aluminum bat, clubbed the black beast until nothing moved. Mark breathed like a thing possessed and searched for more dogs to strike. Four furry bodies lay sprawled in the moonlight.

  “There were five,” Molly said, trying to breathe and contain the adrenaline spike that carried her, “…five of them.”

  Mark nodded and stalked through the front yard, searching for the fifth. The lead dog that first tasted the blade of Molly’s shovel.

  More boys, similarly clothed as her brother, arrived with bats of aluminum and wood, like they were about to have late night batting practice.

  “There’s at least one more dog out here,” Mark relayed to the others. “Get in teams of three and find it. Molly, do you know which way it went?”

  Molly dropped to the soft, wet ground, crushed under the weight of fear and exhaustion. She kept her grip tight on the shovel. “They came out of the field. The missing one is wounded.”

  “Half of you take the field,” Mark said. “The rest, search around every house. Luis, check on Samuel.”

  Boys left in all directions. The ones who took to the field crashed into the high grass that bordered the crops with little worry for the monsters lurking there. Molly found that very brave and very reckless, but was thankful all the same for their courage.

  One of the dogs in the yard squirmed and whined, and Molly cried out. Mark walked over and smashed his bat into the animal’s head with a disgusting, mushy ‘thunk.’ The beast laid still, its red eyes dimmed. Molly’s stomach flip-flopped. She retched on the flowers, wiped her mouth, and used the shovel to push away from the smell.

  “I need light and a pair of scissors,” Luis said.

  “Are you okay?” Mark asked Molly.

  “I’m fine. Get what he needs.”

  Mark jumped onto the porch and ran into the house. The screen door slammed shut behind him.

  Samuel breathed in shallow puffs, his face pale in the moonlight, his jeans torn and dark with blood. Luis shook Samuel’s shoulder but the injured boy did not respond.

  Luis bent over for a closer inspection. He touched the wounded area and blood gushed, soaking the jeans more and pooling on the broken concrete walkway.

  “He took it in the femoral artery. There’s no time.” Luis patted his naked chest and the waistband of his underwear. He looked up at Molly. “I need your shirt.”

  Molly removed her shirt and handed it over. She covered her breasts with one arm, holding the shovel handle in the crook of the other as Luis set to work applying pressure to Samuel’s wound. Blood, more than Molly had ever seen, flowed everywhere.

  A deep growl sounded. The lead dog broke away from the shadows at the side of the house, all salivating jaws and terrible teeth gnashing.

  Molly swung the blade of her shovel up from the grass and screamed in defiance at the hungry, desperate beast. The red eyes faltered. Molly leapt forward and cleaved the shovel blade down into the back of the beast and it crumpled to its belly. She raised the shovel again, readjusted her hold, and stabbed it through.

  Blood gurgled from the dog’s mouth.

  Mark tore through the screen door, bat held high, and charged to his sister’s rescue. He came to a halt when there was nothing left for him to do.

  Molly smiled. “I got him.”

  Mark wrapped her in his arms and hugged her fiercely. “You sure did, sis. You got him good.”

  They hugged for about six seconds and then separated when realization struck that Molly and Mark were both topless.

  Mark blushed and Molly smiled at his embarrassment. “Awkward,” she said.

  Mark scratched the back of his head and averted his eyes. “Um, yeah.”

  “Oh for crying out loud. We used to take baths together!”

  “We were four! Things have changed.”

  Luis had lit a candle and cut a seam right up the leg of Samuel’s jeans, exposing the terrible gash where blood flowed freely, but something else felt horribly wrong. Tears flowed from Luis’s eyes as freely as the blood, and then Molly knew.

  Luis looked up and said, “He never really had a chance.”

  Molly knelt, joining Luis’s sorrow. A breeze wrapped around them, extinguishing the candlelight.

  “What are you sillies doing?” A small hand rested on Molly’s bare shoulder. Catherine stuck her head between theirs and looked gravely at Samuel. “Haven’t you learned by now there’s always a chance when I’m with you?”

  Five

  Scout

  All the noise woke him up. Scout quickly dressed and tied on his Converse All-Stars.

  “Where are you going?” Raven asked, rolling over in the sheets. Her eyes remained closed in their dark apartment.

  “Someone’s outside yelling.”

  “What are they yelling?”

  “I have no idea. It’s gotten further away. I better go check it out.”

  Raven didn’t respond. Her breathing turned heavy as she settled back to sleep.

  Scout stepped outside and down to the street. Moonlight spread through the sky like a giant white nimbus, making it easy to see the recent rain on the damp bricks of Main Street. Scout jogged toward the distant sounds that led him toward the edge of town. A flurry of grasshoppers scattered at his approach. He wondered why no one thought to wake him up to help.

  A yellow light penetrated the darkness like the single headlight on his motorbike. The light was tinged with a soft pinkness that Scout had never seen in one of Catherine’s previous healings. He sped up, knowing that something serious must have happened if the little girl was working a miracle.

  Scout raced the last hundred yards towards Samuel’s house a
nd skidded to a stop as Catherine’s light shot from her eyes into the heavens. She slumped to the ground, and so did Molly, who appeared to have lent Catherine her strength for the healing.

  The first thing he noticed was Molly’s boobs.

  “Close your mouth, Scout. That’s my sister.”

  Scout’s eyes whipped up to Mark standing next to the three unconscious kids with his arms crossed. “Billy, run into the house and find some blankets.”

  Billy nodded, shaded his eyes from Molly with his left hand, and stumbled up the porch. The screen door slammed shut after he went through. “Sorry,” he called from the dark interior.

  Luis bent over and wiped blood off Samuel’s leg. Whatever wound had caused the mess was healed. He shook his head. “Sometimes I wonder why I’m still studying medicine.”

  “You’re still studying in case Catherine isn’t here when we need a miracle,” Mark said.

  Scout surveyed the yard. Five big shadowy heaps lay scattered about the perimeter. Farther out, boys were hanging around in their underwear, carrying baseball bats and watching the fields. They talked in low, excited tones.

  “So what’d I miss?” Scout asked.

  Mark hooked a thumb in the waistband of his striped boxers. He shouldered the thirty-four inch Easton aluminum baseball bat that Scout had given him for his seventeenth birthday. Blood spattered the end of the barrel. He smiled at Scout.

  “And why is everybody naked?”

  Mark’s smile grew bigger. He looked back and caught Luis staring at his sister. “Luis! Samuel’s fine now. Come over here with us until Billy gets back.”

  Luis’s skinny body leapt up like he was strapped to a rocket. “Sorry!” He hurried over, eyed Mark’s bloody bat, and stood closer to Scout.