Hungry Independents (Book 2)

by Ted Hill

  “James’s father,” Ginger said, and brought up her hand to wipe a stray tear from her beautiful eyes. “You barely met him before everything happened.”

  “He seemed like a great guy.”

  “He was the best person I’ve ever known. I loved him so much. I miss him every day. I’m just thankful he left me little James before he passed on. It’s a blessing. I only hope I can raise him to be as good a man as his father.”

  Jimmy rested his hand on her arm. “You aren’t alone in this, Ginger. I’ll help.”

  “I will too.”

  Scout had entered through the door with Catherine leaning on him. She was wearing a khaki buttoned shirt with patches on the sleeves. The shirt hung past her knees. Her forehead had seen better colors in the past. The current purple blotch wasn’t one of them.

  “I mean if that’s okay?” Scout said.

  “Of course it is,” Ginger said.

  Jimmy hurried over to help with Catherine. He wrapped his arm around her waist and she did the same around his shoulder for support.

  “You don’t look so hurt,” Jimmy said.

  Catherine lolled her head sideways at him. “Shouldn’t you be dead?”

  Jimmy’s eyes widened. He looked at Ginger and laughed nervously. “You’re such a kidder, Catherine. I think you hang around with Samuel too much.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with that,” Samuel said, carrying a sleeping Molly. “Where do you want me to put her, Luis?” He looked around the clinic for the missing doctor. “Never mind, I’ll take her out to the couch. We need more beds in here so I can take a nap later.” Samuel disappeared back through the door.

  Jimmy helped Catherine into the chair next to the bed. The little girl smiled at the baby before resting her head on the edge of the mattress. Jimmy worried about her injury and all the stuff she’d been through today.

  Scout moved to the other side. He was giving Jimmy a funny look. Jimmy wondered how many funny looks he was going to rack up before the day ended. Maybe he should’ve worn a mask to give everyone a reason to look at him so funny.

  “What?”

  “You really messed things up for me. I didn’t kill Jimmy.”

  “Of course you didn’t. That’s dumb. Who was saying that?”

  “You were, Billy,” Scout said.

  It was Jimmy’s turn to hand out a funny look. “I was?”

  “Raven left me because of all the trash talk you were spreading.”

  “She did?”

  Scout’s strange expression dropped. Jimmy didn’t care for the new one, because it appeared like Scout wanted to pound him in the face.

  “I’m sorry, Scout. I haven’t been myself lately.”

  “What does that mean?” Scout’s voice grew louder.

  Catherine lifted her head off the mattress. “It means he was possessed by a demon. He’s all right now and he’s sorry. Can we keep the shouting down? My head hurts.”

  Scout stared at Billy for a long uncomfortable minute. “Is that true?”

  “Yes,” Jimmy said. “I don’t remember anything. I apologize if that caused Raven to leave you. I never would have wanted that.”

  Ginger took Scout’s hand. “I’m sorry she left.”

  Scout smiled down at her. “I don’t think she was very happy here with me.”

  “Oh, I don’t believe that.” Ginger kissed the back of his hand. “Thank you for saving my baby, Scout.”

  Scout’s smile grew across his face like a row of Nebraskan corn.

  Jimmy shifted his feet. Jealousy crept up his unfamiliar spine and festered in his mind. This wasn’t the homecoming he wanted. How could he be this close to his family yet so far away?

  Thirty-Two

  Hunter

  Birds whistled from somewhere above. Hunter felt warm, and he rested with Molly lying in his arms. Nothing else mattered. Birdsong, sunshine and the girl he loved—he couldn’t start the day off any better. He opened his eyes and looked up into the deep green boughs of a cottonwood tree. A robin hopped from branch to branch. Hunter had no idea where he was and, at the moment, he didn’t care. The horrible nightmare he’d had about the dogs was a fuzzy memory. He closed his eyes and listened to the chirp of the robin.

  Something tingled in his mind. Some weirdness he couldn’t quite shake. He opened his eyes again—both of them.

  He bolted straight up, shedding Molly, and touched his left eye. He waved and saw his hand clearly. How did he get his sight back?

  He looked down at Molly, only it wasn’t Molly.

  Barbie lay on her elbows, arching her eyebrow at him. “Well?”

  “Well what? What happed last night? Did we…?”

  “Did we what?”

  “You know?”

  “I know what?”

  Hunter walked over to the tree, rubbing his head. He noticed the large knobby bark first. Then he spun around and realized where he was. “This is Catherine’s tree. Why did you bring me here?”

  “I didn’t bring you anywhere. It was the other way around.”

  “How did I bring you here? I can’t remember a thing.”

  “What do you remember?”

  Hunter stared off into the distance and noticed the huge swath of dirt that cut through the prairie and he recognized the path of destruction the grasshoppers had left. He tried to figure out where he last was in relationship to Catherine’s tree. Yesterday had been the longest day of his life. This one was shaping up the same, except that he was better rested and could see out of both eyes again. All he needed now were some straight answers.

  “What the hell happened last night? I remember the dogs then my back felt like it was ripping apart.” Hunter reached and touched his naked shoulder blade. “Where’s my shirt?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe you lost it somewhere in the fight.”

  He looked at the open prairie as if expecting a pack of black salivating dogs to come rushing out of the tall grass and launch for his throat. “I guess we won.”

  “Yes, we won,” she said. “Then we came here.”

  This time, Hunter arched his eyebrow. “And then?”

  Barbie stood and wiped her jeans free of dirt and grass. “You don’t remember?”

  “No,” Hunter said. “I blacked out. How would I remember?” He pointed to his eye. “Did you do this?”

  She folded her arms and looked away. Hunter knew his tone was a little rough, but really, she had no right to do whatever she did to him. He was unsure how to feel, but mostly he was upset for having lost control if he and Barbie had... He loved Molly. How could he hook up with the first girl who threw herself at him?

  “There are things here you don’t understand.”

  Hunter walked over, grabbed her hands, and held them firmly. “So tell me. I’ve got nowhere to be.”

  That wasn’t true. If the bugs headed to Independents, Hunter couldn’t hang around talking about the forgettable sex he may or may not have had with Barbie. Not to mention the whereabouts of the Winnebago full of Cozad kids.

  Hunter lowered his head. “Maybe we should go see if the others are okay?”

  Barbie shook his hands. “It’s okay, you know? Not to understand everything. I don’t get it all myself, but I know His will guides us.”

  “Who’s will?”

  She gripped his hands tighter. “When you figure that out, everything else will be easier.”

  Hunter nodded. He had a good idea who “He” was, or at least who she meant. Hunter never gave God or religion much thought. He attended church service because his girlfriend made him wake up for it every Sunday morning. Scout was good at the whole preaching thing, but to be honest, Hunter would rather sleep in.

  The return of his eyesight bothered him the most. He didn’t deserve to see out of that eye. He lost it after Patrick had beaten him to death. Hunter received the miracle that should have saved his brother. The least Hunter could do was walk around blind in one eye for the rest of his life.

  “Why did you heal
my eye?”

  “I didn’t. You did, when you transformed.”

  He blinked both eyes. “Transformed? What, did I become a robot or a jet plane?”

  Her eyes watered like she was about to spill a big bag of emotions. Instead she drew in a deep breath and released a long sigh. “You transformed into an angel.”

  Hunter stared at her as if marbles had tumbled out of her ears. “You’re shitting me.”

  She pulled her hands away and reared back with the right, bringing it around quickly. Hunter blocked the punch with his left arm, thankful he could see them coming now. He grabbed hold of her hands again.

  “I told you to quit using that bad language.”

  “Why? What do you care?”

  “Because you’re beautiful,” Barbie said. Then she lowered her voice. “Talking like that makes you ugly and taints the gift inside you.”

  Hunter wanted to pursue this topic and give her a few more choice phrases, but then the sound of a motorbike broke across the prairie and his big KTM came rolling their way, followed by the Winnebago. Henry handled the big motorbike cautiously over the flatland. Wesley drove the Winnebago, steering back and forth over every bump he could find, wearing a bright smile that reflected the morning sun. Henry killed the engine. He regarded Hunter with his head down, searching through the length of his bangs like he was afraid to look Hunter directly in the eyes.

  “You guys made it out all right?” Hunter asked.

  When Henry’s head came up his mouth dropped open, but he remained silent. He looked at Hunter and then at Barbie.

  “He doesn’t remember,” she said.

  “I don’t remember what?”

  “What we were just talking about.”

  “My cussing? I really don’t understand the big deal.”

  Barbie shook her head. “Not that. The other thing.”

  Before Hunter could remember what the other topic was, Wesley shot out of the Winnebago. None of the other kids followed but they did crowd up to the front windshield, staring out at Hunter like he was a lion on safari.

  “Let me see them!” Wesley shouted with excitement. “Where are they? Folded down behind your back?”

  “What are you yelling about?” Hunter asked.

  Wesley circled him. He came to the end of his search and frowned. “Where are your wings? I wanted to see them up close in the daylight. I couldn’t believe when you flew over and killed all those dogs trying to get at us. That was awesome! Are you really an angel? How does that whole flying thing work? Is it scary up there? I heard about planes, but I never got to fly in one before the plague. Can you take me flying sometime?”

  Hunter was still working through Wesley’s ramble when the talking stopped and he realized it was his turn. How could he respond to that? “I have no idea what you’re talking about. What wings? I can’t fly.”

  “See, he doesn’t remember,” Barbie said with a hitch in her voice. She turned and faced the opposite direction.

  “You had these giant, brown, feathery wings shooting out your back. How can you not remember?” Henry asked. “It’s not like you were flying around dropping dogs in your sleep. I even heard you talking to Barbie, but you sounded different.”

  The dull ache pulsed in his shoulder, reminding him that it was still there. Henry and Wesley had clearly lost their minds. “Look guys, I don’t know what you saw last night, but I’m no angel. Shit, I’m the farthest thing there is from an angel.”

  “Please, don’t,” Barbie said softly without looking back.

  Hunter sighed and placed his hands on her shoulders, squeezing them to offer some type of comfort even though he had no idea why she was upset. Her mood swings were frighteningly similar to Molly’s before Catherine healed her mind. Hunter didn’t want any part of that craziness, but this was different. Barbie was upset about something Hunter couldn’t remember.

  “Look, the last thing I saw was a bunch of those dogs going after the RV. Then I had this incredible pain in my shoulder and back and I blacked out. Next thing I know, I woke up next to you under Catherine’s tree with my shirt off. So you’re telling me that I was flying around with wings, dropping dogs out of the sky. Am I the only one who thinks that sounds crazy?”

  Henry walked back to Hunter’s bike and unzipped his backpack. He brought out the shirt Hunter was wearing the night before and threw it at him. Hunter caught it in one hand.

  “I didn’t lose it after all.” He flapped the shirt out, tucked his arms inside, and then he noticed the two holes evenly spaced in the back. “What happened to my shirt?”

  “That’s where your wings popped through. After you finished up with all the dogs, you asked me to help take it off because you said it was restricting your movement. Then you flew off with Barbie. We may be scared, hungry and tired, but we’re not crazy. You grew wings and flew around up there in the sky. I’m sorry you don’t believe us or remember. It was pretty cool.”

  Wesley stood in the morning sunshine with a mixture of excitement and depression fighting for the right to exist on his face. The keys to the Winnebago jingled in his hands.

  The rest of the gang watched from behind the safety of the windshield. All eyes bored into Hunter like he was about to perform a neat trick. Sprouting wings and flying in the sky would certainly qualify.

  Barbie was still turned away.

  Hunter walked over to his bike. Wesley and Henry stepped back. Hunter sighed and opened his backpack. He dug out a dirty shirt that didn’t have any holes in it and slipped it over his wingless back. The torn shirt he tossed on the ground. He returned for Barbie and grabbed her elbow, guiding her into motion.

  “Hey, what are you doing?” she asked.

  “You and I are going to have a little question and answer time.” Over his shoulder, Hunter yelled back to Henry and Wesley. “We’re going to be leaving in a couple minutes. I want you guys ready to go when we return.”

  “Who gets to drive the Winnebago?” Wesley called after, but Hunter decided they could figure out that one on their own.

  He led Barbie away from the others, thinking that all the stupid secrecy stopped here. This was where he found out what’s going on. First, he needed to know who was crazy in the group. For some reason, he thought it might be him.

  He turned around the one person who should have had all the answers. At least the ones he needed. She was just like Catherine, and now he wanted straight talk, or something bad was going to happen.

  “Tell me everything.”

  Barbie searched his eyes. She seemed to be looking for this birdman that everyone claimed roosted somewhere inside his skin. Her face masked something different though. She was sad, and Hunter felt that her sadness was somehow shared by him, only he didn’t know what there was to be sad about. The Big Bad was just a sad place now.

  Barbie released another slow sigh.

  “When you died and Catherine brought you back, someone returned with you. He’s needed to fight the war that’s coming.”

  Hunter nodded. “So you’re saying an angel came back and is living inside me.”

  “Not just any angel. He and I have a relationship.”

  “You have a relationship with an angel?”

  “Not just any angel, Hunter. God’s archangel, Michael.”

  That’s total bullshit, Hunter thought.

  “No, Hunter. It’s the Will of God,” the angel said. Hunter covered his mouth after he involuntarily spoke.

  Barbie smiled at him.

  Thirty-Three

  Margaret

  Margaret thought today would be a good one, considering things couldn’t get any worse. She looked out her window at the new morning and the debris scattered along Main Street from the grasshopper attack. She rolled over onto her back, trying to remember how she made it to bed. Someone had carried her here after she healed Mark. She thought about how much explaining she’d have to do, and decided that maybe today wouldn’t be so great after all.

  After kicking the sheet o
ff, she sat on the edge of her soft, wide bed. She felt guilty about sharing it with another person. She knew Molly truly loved Hunter, but Margaret’s chastity had been very important. Now she would have to come to terms with having a lover. That word alone made her cringe.

  Memories of times spent in the bed with Hunter brought other, unfamiliar sensations, mixing with the guilt like one big stew of confusion. If Hunter returned today then that would ruin all her chances at a good day. She’d rather face horsemen and hellhounds than have a discussion with him about the future of their relationship.

  Margaret selected clean clothes out of her closet. She removed Samuel’s shirt that looked just fine, except for the dirty splotch on the back that probably happened when she fainted in the middle of the street last night.

  Margaret dressed and opened the door to her living room. Samuel sat on the couch with his chin resting on his chest and a long strand of drool hanging from his lower lip. He should have been in the fields by now, but after yesterday’s business, he probably needed the extra rest.

  She took one step and his bleary eyes opened. His head popped up and the drool snapped in half, dropping onto his lap. He wiped the leftover off his chin and smiled.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. What are you doing here?”

  “I was assigned to you.”

  Margaret raised her eyebrows.

  He laughed. “When Mark woke up injury free, thanks to you, he wanted to run home and be with Vanessa and his kid, but he also wanted to stay with you. I told him I could handle it. So here I am, handling it.”

  “Did you sleep at all?”

  “Sure. But I wake up early, and since all you have around here are these boring psychology books, I must have drifted off again. How are you doing?”

  Margaret considered everything in a flash and shrugged. “I’ve been better. But that probably can be said for everyone in town.”

  “You got that right. We have some major problems, including that freak that almost killed Mark. I need to check out the damage to the crops. Billy said that the bugs left Main Street and went straight to the fields. We could be in a lot of trouble if he was right.”