Sudden Independents

Another jolt of pain laced through Jimmy’s body and tugged. He now lay on a firm hospital bed in the clinic with his shirt off; his chest covered instead with ugly purple bruises. Relaxing was tough, even with everyone gone except Ginger. Luis snoozed with his head on his desk, his gentle snores crossing the space between doctor and patient. Jimmy knew he’d gotten everyone up early, but the pain refused his own attempts at sleep.

“I have to sit up,” he told Ginger.

Ginger worked the mechanical gears that raised the head of the bed. Jimmy’s face tightened from the movement, but his ribs didn’t hurt as much once he was up right.

He held Ginger’s hand and offered it a reassuring squeeze to let her know everything was okay. He guessed she still agonized over not escaping and bringing back help in time, but he was just thankful Patrick hadn’t gone caveman on her.

Light filtered in between the blinds, cold and gray, chasing away the darkness. Jimmy wished the light could do the same for his spirits. His ribs were killing him. Luis suspected a couple of them were broken, but he couldn’t confirm it without X-rays. He said they’d heal with time and gave Jimmy meds for the pain. The medicine did squat from what Jimmy could tell.

“Does your head hurt?” Ginger asked.

“Not too bad.”

“I can’t believe she did this. I never thought Molly would hurt someone. This just doesn’t add up.”

“Molly’s been angry for quite a while. I wish she hadn’t chosen last night to pop, but what can you do.”

“She used to have a crush on you.”

“Yeah, I know. I told her I liked someone else.”

“You did. Who was that?”

Jimmy smiled as much as busted lips would allow.

“Me?” It was cute the way she pointed to herself. “I’m glad you didn’t tell her that. She was hard enough on me.”

“Well, now you’ve been promoted.”

Ginger frowned. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Congratulations.”

She narrowed her brown eyes. “Not exactly the way I planned to get promoted.” Then her eyes widened. “Wait, I don’t know the first thing about running a store.”

Jimmy chuckled, still a bad idea; his eyes filled with fresh tears and he was forced to focus on his breathing. He patted Ginger’s hand.

“You’ve been running that store since you started,” he finally said. “Why do you think we put you there? Molly couldn’t sew a stitch. Just keep doing what you’ve always done.”

The sounds of a new day interrupted their conversation. A gaggle of geese honked their flight plan overhead, the cold wind whistled against the window, and kids hurrying past on their way to breakfast discussed the details of the house fire in excited tones.

Ginger sighed. “I had to keep my crush on you a secret because of her. I used to do things for you, like when I planted the flower bed outside your house.”

“That was you?” Jimmy smiled, finally fitting all the pieces together. “I should have figured with all the flower pots in your house. Maybe you should bring that green thumb out to the fields with us.”

“No thanks. I like sewing. The flowers are just a hobby.”

Jimmy began noticing that each new breath felt like he was inhaling through a narrow straw with a giant spitball lodged in the center. He gripped the sheets.

“Are you okay?” Ginger asked.

“I… I can’t catch my breath.”

“Luis!”

Luis leaped from his chair with a piece of paper stuck to his forehead. “What?”

“He’s having trouble breathing.”

Jimmy didn’t like the way Luis frowned, assuming that’s never a good sign when it comes from a doctor who’s taking care of you.

“One of the broken ribs might have punctured a lung. It’s pretty common with rib fractures.”

“What can we do about it?” Ginger asked.

Luis placed a hand on Jimmy’s shoulder. “I have to re-inflate your lung.”

“How?” Jimmy asked, with a bit more of a wheeze.

Luis offered him a weak smile. “I’m not sure yet. Give me a little time to read up on the procedure.”

“Take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

Jimmy suspected he sounded brave but he was barely holding his bladder in check. Broken ribs, punctured lung. He couldn’t even do his daily plague self-checkup because there were so many different aches and pains.

Luis searched through his medical library and selected one book from a shelf. Then he sat at his desk, flipping pages and murmuring to himself.

Ginger pinched her eyebrows together in a tight knot. Jimmy squeezed her hand again. Her fear was bright when she looked at him. She averted her eyes to their clasped hands and returned his squeeze.

“It’s going to be okay,” Jimmy said. “Luis’s got the brains and the nerve to handle this.”

She touched his lips. “Shush. Don’t talk so much. Save your strength.”

He kissed her fingers and earned a smile for the effort. She caressed his cheek.

Ten minutes passed. “Luis?” Jimmy said.

Luis glanced at him over the cover of his book, perturbed. “What?”

“What’s the word?”

“Thoracentesis.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Ginger said. She shrugged apologies at their shocked expressions. Jimmy never heard Ginger curse before; he kind of liked it.

He nodded at Luis. “What she said.”

Luis ran his finger through the page he’d been reading and garbled a bunch of words at him. “Basically, the puncture caused fluid to seep into your lung, hampering their normal function. I have to insert a hollow needle into the pleural cavity of your chest in order to drain the fluid and allow the oxygen to re-inflate your lung. After that, the hole will heal on its own.”

Jimmy said, “Is that all.” His bladder tingled.

“Pretty much,” Luis replied, placing the book on his desk. “Now I just have to find everything I need. Ginger, can you give me a hand?”

Ginger planted a tender kiss on Jimmy’s cheek before leaving. He closed his eyes. Her floral scent reminded him of fabric softener and suddenly he was five years old again, swimming in a pile of warm laundry fresh from the dryer while his mom chided him. Five-year-old Jimmy giggled and hunkered deeper into the soft, warm folds of fabric. Then his mother grabbed his leg and pulled him out, wrapping him in a hug and kissing him on the cheek.

“Lidocaine,” Luis’s voice invaded his happy memory. “I know I have some Lidocaine around here somewhere.” The sound of glass clinked together. “Ah, there it is.”

Jimmy scooped up a runaway tear and kept it hidden in his hand. He stared through the window blinds at Sunday morning on Main Street, which was empty from its usual herd of kids playing outside; chased indoors by the cold.

Ginger gently lifted his arm. “I have to take your blood pressure.” She looped the cuff around his arm and pumped the air bubble. She counted with the cold stethoscope pressed against his muscle. The pressure in the cuff released with a snake’s hiss.

“When did you learn to do that?”

Ginger ripped the cuff loose. “When Vanessa had little David.” She called to Luis, “One-sixty over ninety-five.”

Jimmy asked, “Is that bad?”

“It’s not good,” Luis said from an open closet across the room. “But it’s to be expected in your current condition.”

Luis rolled a metal table over with a squeaky wheel. Silver knives, needles, vials and a clear plastic tube rested on top. He nodded Jimmy’s way. “Don’t worry, everything is sterile.”

“Yeah, that’s my number-one worry right now.” Jimmy closed his eyes again. “Let’s do this thing.”

“Ginger, hold his arm up and keep it there.”

Ginger gripped Jimmy’s wrist firmly. Something cold and wet brushed against his side.

“That tickles.”

“I’m killing germs by swabbing iodine around the area where I’ll make the incision.”

The word incision made Jimmy shudder. A moment later, he heard clothes being wrestled on. When he heard snapping, he had to look. Luis was wrapped head to toe in baby blue with a mask over his mouth and a blue cap on his head. A clean pair of rubber gloves covered his hands. The young doctor inserted a long needle into a glass bottle and filled the syringe with a clear liquid. Jimmy clamped his eyes shut.

“This will numb the pain,” Luis said. “It’s going to sting for a second.”

The shot stung like a fifty-pound hornet—and did little to numb the pain that followed.





Scout knew they were too late as he followed Hunter across the field to the farmhouse. The incapacitated truck and knocked-over motorbikes still lined the northern wall. The backdoor hung open. The kids they were after had scuttled out and were gone.

They rode up to the vehicles and dismounted. Scout and Hunter walked with the heads down and studied the ground, following different sets of tire tracks that led from the house.

Scout pointed. “These look the freshest. They’re also the only ones heading away from Independents.”

“Nobody’s here,” Samuel reported coming out of the house. “What now?”

Hunter said, “Get back behind the wheel. We’re going to follow these tracks. We’ll probably make sudden stops if we lose the trail. Don’t run us over.”

The tracks led off to the south towards the Kansas state line. Scout shook his head. “There’s no way this group came from Iowa.”

“Too bad your sister couldn’t get anything out of Jolanda.”

Scout eyed the growing wall of heavy clouds. The temperature was dropping rapidly as a cold wind pushed ahead of the storm, clearing out a path with the promise of snow in the air. “We better find them quick or there won’t be any tracks to follow.”

“Let’s go already!” Mark yelled, leaning through the window and pounding his hand on the door of the SUV. “We’re wasting time here!”

Scout shrugged at Hunter, who frowned and revved up his bike. They each took a tread of the trail and followed it away from the empty farmhouse.

The trail was easy to spot where it mashed down the high prairie grass, continuing south for several miles. They arrived at an old, forgotten highway with a white and black sign marked US 36. Potholes and cracks covered the gray asphalt in both directions. The trail turned west, running parallel to the highway.

Scout didn’t hesitate. He turned with his groove and headed west.

Hunter pulled up beside him and hollered over the noise of their engines. “We followed this highway before, remember?”

“Yeah, but that was a while ago.”

“Remember how it goes through a town every ten miles or so? Lots of good places for another ambush.”

“Then we’ll have to play it safe and stay sharp when we pass through them, but I doubt they’re stopping for anything. They got to figure we’re coming after them.”

The hidden sun left Scout without any clues to the time of day. The miles passed quickly with the flat ground providing a smooth ride next to the broken road.

Roads were reminders of the ruined world that no longer functioned. People, or rather the surviving kids, didn’t function the same way either because they were also broken, cracked and filled with holes. Molly was the leading example, but Scout knew a lot of kids suffered. You either dealt with it or you exploded from the pressure building up over time. Molly had popped her top like a Roman candle.

Scout refocused his attention when they approached the first town. His fingers tapped the brake and Hunter slowed next to him. The wind blew dust and half a dozen tumbleweeds through the empty streets ahead. This place could have been Independents, instead of a lifeless ruin. Its Main Street buildings stood dull and forgotten. Sometime ago, a roof had collapsed and reduced one building to rubble.

Scout tucked his stocking mask into his collar. “What do you think?”

Hunter removed his goggles, snorted and spat with the wind. “A bulldozer would make this place look real nice.”

“Are you worried about an ambush?”

“No, this town is dead.”

Behind them the SUVs rolled closer and stopped. “What’s the discussion? We’re losing daylight!” Mark yelled.

Hunter responded. “Give us a break! We’re not sitting in front of a heater!”

Scout lowered his head.

The passenger door flew open and Mark leapt out. Hunter hopped off his bike and Scout did too, knowing he would have to buffer the situation.

Samuel followed quickly after Mark. Everyone else stayed in the SUVs.

Mark stalked over with his fists clenched, his jaw leading the way. “What did you say?”

“You heard me,” Hunter said. “I’m out here freezing my ass off, and I don’t need you yelling at me.”

“We need to pick up the pace. My sister’s out there and we’re never going to find her if we keep stopping.”

Scout silently prayed for Hunter to bite his tongue, even going so far as to look heavenward only to find black, unfriendly clouds.

“My brother has a concussion and broken ribs because of her! So screw your crazy-ass sister!” Hunter yelled.

Mark barreled into him, flailing erratic blows. Scout and Samuel pounced on the pile and dragged Mark off kicking, screaming and spitting.

“I’m going to kill you!”

Hunter wiped blood off his lip and returned to his motorbike. He rode off through the empty town alone.

“Mark, this isn’t helping anybody,” Scout said. “We can’t keep separating you from Hunter and we can’t concentrate on tracking the kids who took Molly and Catherine if you’re yelling at us every time we stop.”

“Scout’s right,” Samuel said. “You got to take it easy, man.”

“Let’s just go. I trust you guys to find her.”

“What about Hunter?” Scout asked.

“Him, too.” Mark walked away and settled in the SUV.

“This is messed up, isn’t it?” Samuel asked.

“Which part?”

Samuel turned back to the SUV. “Pretty much all of it.”

Scout rode through town. A couple of skeletons lay on the sidewalk like a museum display showing the affects of a simple life interrupted by an uncontrollable disease. He guided his bike down the broken road to where Hunter waited.

“Are you all right?” Scout asked.

Hunter smirked with a bandanna pressed to his split lip. He pulled his ski mask and goggles back down as the SUVs caught up and they all left the town as a group. Hunter led, picking up the trail again on the other side and ripping through the miles at a faster pace. This time Scout didn’t object to his recklessness.

They continued following US 36 West. Their winter gear kept Hunter and Scout warm on their motorbikes for the most part, and the feeling of urgency did the rest. They didn’t stop for conferences anymore because there wasn’t any time. The path lay clearly ahead and they needed to catch up.

They passed through two more ghost towns. The fourth town they arrived at classified as a city, expanding in all directions around the highway with a McDonald’s, Pizza Hut and Taco Bell that all the boys looked upon with unbridled hunger. Scout placed the Wal-Mart on his to-do list for the spring and wondered if this city had a Boy Scout troop six years ago.

They siphoned fuel out of some vehicles near an old warehouse that backed a set of railroad tracks. Hunter and Mark stayed in their respective corners during the pit stop. Samuel handed out Chef Brittany sandwiches that didn’t carry the same appeal as a Happy Meal, but squelched their rumbling stomachs all the same.

After the quick bite, everyone loaded up their vehicles just as big fat snowflakes spiraled out of the sky. Scout looked at Hunter and they both lowered their heads. It took two minutes and a white blanket covered the ground. In three minutes they couldn’t see the other buildings across the street from the intensity of the whiteout.

The boys piled out of the SUVs and hurried into the warehouse, followed by Scout and Hunter, pushing their motorbikes inside. Samuel came through the door with a snowcap sitting on his head.

“Where’s Mark?” Scout asked.

Samuel hooked a thumb at the SUV. “He wants to keep going.”

“He would,” Hunter said.

“Keep that talk quiet,” Scout growled at him. “We’re going to be stuck here for a while. I don’t want to pull you guys apart every five minutes.”

Hunter moved to the back of the building. Scout watched him clear a spot and lie down, using his backpack as a pillow.

“We can’t ride in this weather,” Scout told Samuel. “We’d get stuck in the middle of nowhere and freeze to death. We’re lucky we were here when this storm hit.”

“I know.” Samuel turned toward the SUV that was barely visible through the snowfall. “We just need to convince him.”

“You kept the keys, right?”

Samuel jingled them at Scout.

“Good news is Chase and company won’t be able to drive in this either,” Scout said.

“Any bad news?”

“Only if they didn’t find shelter. Or they might be out from under the storm and leaving us behind. It doesn’t really matter. We’re stuck.”

The snow piled up around the SUV where Mark sat alone. Finally, even he gave up and waded through the drifts into the building where the search party had found refuge.





Molly was freezing in the truck bed with the pack of five boys. They finally came to the realization that she wasn’t putting out and huddling with them was easier ever since. The ride was smoother once Kessie started following the old road that stretched behind them like a broken ribbon of black asphalt through the withered grass. Every time they passed an abandoned town, Molly hoped they would stop. But the towns quickly faded in the distance like unimportant memories and still the brutal trip wore on and on.

That’s when she started thinking she’d made a mistake. A vision of Hunter leading a column of Independents boys coming to her rescue kept popping into her head. She shook the thought in agitation.

“I don’t need rescuing.”

A sleepy boy next to her lifted his head. “What?”

Molly didn’t bother responding. Why would she talk to the pawns of this little party? Still, she hated showing any type of weakness, and it was getting tougher with every mile. She pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them as her eyesight blurred.

She woke from a sudden shift in momentum. Her eyes hurt as she opened them in the wintry air. The engine stopped and both doors to the cab opened.

“Wake up, girls!” Patrick yelled. He stretched and yawned, loud and obnoxious, and shook the nearest boy. “Grab that fuel we left inside and fill us up.”

They scrambled out of the truck, leaving Molly cold from their absence. Even her bones felt coated in ice. They had arrived in some forgotten town that resembled all the others previously passed, except for the trees that lined both sides of the street like tall, leafless guardians. Molly stood and the blood rushed to her head. She steadied herself on the cab until she found her balance. She threw her leg over the side of the truck bed and fell to the ground because her stupid foot had gone to sleep.

Patrick grabbed underneath her arms and helped her up. “Cold out here, isn’t it?” He leered at her with his big, dumb face.

Molly started walking, wanting to get far away from him. Her feet waded through the piles of leaves that littered the main street of this Podunk town. She hoped her internal heater would kick in before she became a permanent Popsicle. After a couple minutes, her legs still quivered, but they were a little warmer and she was still standing.

She found Chase staring at her with his creepy eyes. He watched her all the way like she was putting on a show just for him. Molly circled around him and kept moving. There was nothing to say; he already proved himself useless.

One of the boys ran up and handed her some food. She swallowed the bread, cheese and dried meat in less than two minutes. When no other food was offered, she sulked in silence against the rough bark of one of the nearby trees.

A small hand gripped hers and Molly felt warmth traveling throughout her body and limbs immediately. She looked down into Catherine’s blue eyes and a stirring of guilt crept over her. She hated the unfamiliar feeling.

Catherine gave Molly’s hand a squeeze. “You didn’t know.”

And then it hit her. She didn’t even know what “it” was, but she lowered her gaze as tears raced down her face.

A light glowed in the grip of their hands, as though their connection were fueled by a power source. The light seeped between the laces of their fingers and Catherine’s strange power surged through Molly. Part of her wanted to pull away, but the cold, tired portion of Molly refused. A replay of the events from the night before flipped past in her mind: the fire, hitting Jimmy and kidnapping Catherine. Was it possible that she had been responsible for all of it? Molly couldn’t turn away from the fact that she’d played a critical part.

Light covered her body as her mind clicked.

And like a receding tide, the light drained away into Catherine. Her face pinched on itself, tight with the struggle she was assuming from Molly. She swayed and only their hold on each other kept the little girl from falling. She raised her face and the light shot from her eyes like twin bolts into the dark clouds above. Still clasping hands, the two girls sagged to the cold ground next to the tree. From everything Molly had heard about Catherine’s earlier healings, she expected to pass out, but didn’t.

“That wasn’t so bad,” Catherine said, blinking her eyes.

She wrapped her arms around Molly, hugging her tenderly. Molly felt reborn from the cold numbness that claimed her since Hunter had ended their relationship. But really, she realized, her paralysis extended far beyond that moment, all the way to when she held her dying mother’s hand with confusion over her sudden illness.

“What have I done?” she choked out.

“Nothing that can’t be undone,” Catherine answered with a sympathetic smile.

“But I….” Molly wiped away more tears.

“I know. It doesn’t matter now.”

“What can I do?”

Catherine stood and reached out to help Molly up. “Live the life given to you. Accept things the way they are and then move forward to make a better tomorrow.”

Molly nodded her head and closed her eyes. Her body tingled. Her spirit was strengthened by sense of joy that lifted her out of a dark abyss.

“Are we about done here?”

Molly opened her eyes. Chase’s cancerous form oozed over towards them. Even the giant trees seemed to lean back as if repulsed by his presence.

Catherine scrunched up her nose like she’d caught a whiff of something rotten. “You’re such a party pooper.”

“You’ve ruined her, haven’t you?”

“That’s right. Want to know why? Because I have the power to help her and there isn’t a thing you or your plague can do about it.”

Chase backhanded Catherine hard across the face. She spun to the ground. Shocked, Molly knelt to help her.

Chuckling, Catherine pushed up. “Is that all you got?”

Molly grabbed her hand and whispered, “He’ll kill you.”

Catherine winked. “I need you to run.” She kissed Molly’s cheek and gently shoved her away.

Molly touched the warm spot that Catherine’s lips left behind. “What?”

Catherine spread her hands, palms down, under the leaves and touched the ground. A rumbling quake shook the surrounding area and the trees rustled with growing agitation. The street exploded with flying dirt and debris as a multitude of long sinuous roots tore from the earth, knocking Kessie, Patrick and the other boys off their feet. With a scowl on his face, Chase raised a hand and the tree root aimed at him shriveled and died.

“Run, Molly!” Catherine yelled.

Molly sprinted, her legs churning as though she risked losing everything. She scrambled over the crumbling remains of a building and turned at the first corner. Cold air filled her lungs, but something deeper fueled her need to escape.

Houses dotted the neighborhood ahead of her and Molly ran behind one, breaking the line of sight so her pursuers couldn’t tell which way she’d gone. She scurried from house to house using large evergreens and untamed shrubs for cover.

A couple of blocks in, she jumped a chain-link fence and rushed to the back of a white-sided house. Opening the door with a rusty-hinged squeal, she slipped inside.

The dried-husk of a dead man sat at the table, dressed in a suit as though he were about to leave for church when death came knocking. Molly cringed past the remains and entered the front room of the house. Kneeling beneath the window, she lifted the blinds an inch to peek out. Boys searched for her in the distance. Patrick walked behind them, shouting orders and pointing out different directions.

The truck drove up to Patrick with Catherine seated between Chase and Kessie. Chase spoke to Patrick, who yelled for the others to return; they were leaving. Patrick’s expression soured when Chase directed him into the truck bed with the other boys.

Molly stared at Catherine, wishing she would save herself. Molly was sure she could if she wanted. Catherine could do anything. Why was she letting Chase take her?

Catherine looked directly at Molly and smiled. The truck sped off, laying a big trail of dust and leaving Molly all alone. Sadness overwhelmed her, and yet for the first time in her memory, she felt genuine. She cried for Catherine until her tears ran out, and then she slept.





Hunter rubbed the fuzz covering his scalp while waiting for dinner in a survivor settlement on the outskirts of Denver, Colorado. He wasn’t convinced about his new look. He missed the way his hair used to lay on his collar and how it would billow in the wind. Now he just felt naked. There was still enough winter cold to make him regret the loss for more practical reasons than vanity. He lowered his hand and sighed as he scanned the crowd outside the cafeteria one more time.

Ginger hooked her arm in his and laughed softly. “You’re never going to forgive me, are you?”

“It’s not your fault Jimmy made you cut all my hair off. I just can’t believe I let you. I haven’t seen one other kid with hair this short.”

“Molly gave me the idea from a fashion magazine. Short hair used to be in style.”

“I feel like a dope.”

Ginger faced Hunter and arched an eyebrow. “I like it. You have to admit it’s a pretty good disguise.”

“So is putting a dress on Jimmy, but that idea got shot down real quick.”

Ginger laughed. “Your brother would make a lousy girl. He’s too gangly, and he walks like a boy. You, on the other hand…”

“Don’t even go there.”

Ginger cupped a hand over her mouth, unsuccessfully hiding her widening smile. Her eyes glimmered with mischievous delight.

Hunter eyed her suspiciously. “I’m glad you and Molly had such a great time cutting my hair together.”

“I’m glad you two got back together after she made it back to town.”

Hunter shrugged. “She’s different now.”

“You’re both different now,” Ginger said and patted his arm.

Hunter shook his head. Anticipation rumbled in his stomach. “The food at this place better be good. I’m starting to think nobody in Denver knows how to cook.”

“I asked Raven this morning before we left.”

Hunter stared at her, waiting for the verdict. Over the past three days, he had grown familiar with Ginger’s subtle sense of humor. His brother had picked a keeper.

Ginger held up two fingers. “She gave it two stars.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

She nudged into the side of Hunter playfully. “Don’t get your hopes up.”

They stood in the parking lot surrounded by cracks in the asphalt. This was the third cafeteria he and Ginger had tried in as many days. “Jackson’s Joint” was spray-painted in red loopy letters above the double doors. Hunter didn’t recognize the shabby exterior, especially since the color showed the faded appearance that came with six years of neglect. Some days he wished for Red Lobster, but actual seafood was out of the question in the middle of the continent. Hunter missed fried shrimp.

The crowd surged forward as the cafeteria doors opened. Hunter and Ginger were swept up in the tide of kids flowing inside.

At the hostess station a girl on a barstool jiggled an industrial-sized can labeled hominy beans. She eyed each person from beneath her rainbow-colored stocking cap as they passed. Ginger dropped her One Dollar casino chip from The Teller House into the can and Hunter did the same.

“I don’t know where they find these grumpy girls,” Ginger said, looking back over her shoulder. “They make you feel like you’re committing a crime just to get something to eat.

“Yeah, I miss Brittany’s personal service with a smile.”

The line dwindled until they were at the front where kids grabbed their plates and shuffled off to find seats. Hunter received a plate of something brown and something green and a couple of yellow lumpy things. His stomach rolled from the smell, but after working all day for his three casino chips, he was going to eat. He managed to thank the greasy-haired girl who handed him the plate. She sneered and Hunter quickly moved away before she flung her serving spoon and peppered him with something brown.

Ginger directed his attention upward. “I bet I made one of those candles today.”

Several chandeliers hung from the ceiling and each one held twelve white candles in a flaming circle. At least the gloomy kids living in Denver were treated to a cheery glow at dinner. Judging by the contents on his tray, Hunter mused it might be better to eat the slop in the dark.

“You got to stir a pot of boiling pig fat?” he asked.

“You don’t have to make it sound so unpleasant.”

“Who do you think was cutting the fat out of the pig?”

Ginger made a yucky face, but that was probably caused by the stuff on her plate. Hunter followed her to an empty table and then left to fetch waters. When he returned, some skinny kid with dirty hands and long, black hair that hung in greasy strands stood at their table. The kid caught sight of Hunter’s approach and leaned closer to Ginger.

“Why you want to be like that? I was hoping we could keep each other warm tonight.”

Hunter placed the drinks on the table and crossed his arms. “Go away.”

“Whoa! Hey, nice hair. This is between her and me. What’s your problem?”

“She’s my sister, and you smell like a pile of crap. Now take off.”

Ginger tapped Hunter’s leg. He ignored her and glared at the skinny kid.

The kid held up his hands, smiled a yellow row of teeth, and backed away. Hunter watched him until he sat down with a bunch of other kids. They all laughed, but Hunter paid them no more attention.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine. He was just rude. You’re lucky he backed down.”

Hunter snorted. “That kid, are you serious? I would have torn him a new one.”

“I realize that, but we’re trying to keep a low profile, not beat up kids with bad manners.”

Hunter conceded with a nod and then forked in his food as fast as he could without thinking about what it might be and how many foreign objects fell into it while it was prepared. Then he washed it all down with water that smelled like eggs. Hopefully, it was purified, but Hunter wished he had brought his iodine.

Ginger picked at her food, following every bite with a drink. She sputtered and started coughing.

“Are you choking?” Hunter asked, rising from his seat.

“At the door,” she managed to say.

Hunter tracked her gaze and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end when he recognized him. A ripple of anger stopped his breath for a moment.

Patrick stood at the hostess station, giving the little girl on the barstool a hard time. He was bigger than Hunter remembered, but that red hair set him apart like a brushfire. Patrick flipped his casino chip into the can and patted the girl on top of her rainbow cap.

Hunter turned back. He drained his water in two giant gulps.

“What do we do?” Ginger asked.

“Finish dinner. We’ll go outside and follow him when he comes out. Hopefully, he’ll lead us to Catherine.” Hunter wiped his mouth and stood up with his glass. “Can I get you some more water?”

Ginger looked at her empty glass and her plate that was still half-full. “Yes, please.”

Hunter filled their glasses. He didn’t want to go stalk the beast with his brother’s girlfriend. Patrick might recognize him or catch them following and then bad things might happen. Jimmy would never forgive him if bad things happened to Ginger, but Hunter couldn’t send her back to the hideout, either. Too many desperate eyes followed her in the daylight to let Ginger chance Denver alone in the dark.

He was about to return to the table when someone poked his back. Patrick loomed over him like a mountain.

“Hey, man, would you get me a glass of that water?”

Hunter stood for a second with his hands full. He lowered his gaze to the floor. The tops of Patrick’s boots were covered with dark red spots and he smelled like stale sweat. Hunter offered one of his full glasses to the kid that nearly killed his brother three months ago.

Patrick nodded back, oblivious. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Hunter filled a new glass. His shaking hands spilt water onto the counter. His heart raced and he took a deep breath, struggling to keep himself under control.

“Don’t touch me!” Ginger screamed.

Hunter spun to see the skinny kid back at their table, his tongue sticking out, groping Ginger’s chest from behind. She waved her arms in an attempt to fight him off, but he pressed her into the table. He smiled at three other boys standing nearby and laughed.

Hunter exploded into a blind rage. He flew into the kid and pinned him to the ground. Unleashing his anger through his fists, each punch chased the next with meaty thuds.

Someone bumped against his back. He reached behind, grabbed an unknown arm and flung another boy on top of the first. He punched the new kid several times before standing up from the pile, panting. He spotted the other two and stepped in their direction. They retreated, unwilling to join the scrum and ran for the door.

“Behind you!” Ginger screamed.

Hunter whirled. The skinny kid, his face bloodied, sped toward him with a chair held high. Hunter brought his arms up in preparation for the blow. Instead, the boy slid across the table in front of Ginger, scattering the remains of her dinner and crashing to the floor on the other side. Patrick stood in his place.

Hunter clenched his fists. He wasn’t ready for this fight. Not alone.

Patrick’s smile totally disarmed Hunter’s ramped-up adrenaline. “Just a second,” Patrick said, holding up his index finger. The big kid stepped around the table. “Tommy the Perv. How’s puberty, Tommy? Looks like those urges got the best of you this time.”

“Hey, Patrick,” Tommy said, glancing around like he was trying to find a way out of a maze after eating the cheese. “Look, man, I didn’t know this dude was a friend of yours. Swears. I was just talking to his sister, know what I mean?”

“I know exactly what you mean. That’s why you’re the Perv.” Patrick’s face went grim. “You’ve been told to cut the shit. Now get out of my town.”

“But, Patrick.”

Patrick punched the kid so hard that even Hunter’s teeth rattled from the concussive force. The dinner crowd groaned in response to the violence. Tommy the Perv’s face ricocheted off Patrick’s knuckles, and his head bounced back and forth, bobbling like his spring broke.

Patrick pointed to Tommy’s lone friend still sitting on the ground where a smelly puddle gathered. “Help Tommy to the edge of town and make sure he keeps going or you’ll be following him. Got it?”

“I got it. I got it.” The kid took hold of Tommy and dragged him outside. The sound of Tommy’s crying carried through the walls.

All the kids in the cafeteria applauded. What they applauded, Hunter was unsure. All he knew was that he’d just drawn a truckload of attention.

Patrick shook hands with kids like a politician, and even slapped some high and low fives, and bumped a few knuckles. He waved the rest of the applause down and walked over to Hunter.

“Thanks,” Hunter said.

“Don’t mention it. Tommy’s had it coming for a while. She wasn’t the first.”

Ginger shrank in the aftermath.

“Are you all right?” Hunter asked her.

“Yes,” she said, straightening her sweater and tucking a strand of tawny hair behind her ear. Ginger folded her arms across her chest, looking up at him with watery eyes and a trembling bottom lip. “Can we go?”

“Yeah,” he said, offering her help up. She flinched away. He stepped back, aware of her comfort level regarding personal space.

Patrick frowned as they passed. “Hey, man, meet me here for breakfast tomorrow. I’ll get you some decent work to earn your chips. I’ll even throw in extra so she can take the day off.”

“Thanks,” Hunter said. “I’ll be here.”

Hunter followed Ginger out to the dark streets of Denver, wondering if this mission was a success. At least they found Patrick, but Hunter hated himself for not protecting Ginger. Jimmy would not be happy either.