Hungry Independents (Book 2) (14 page)

A solid body flew into him, and he shoved it
back then jabbed the air with one end of the stick, hoping it was
the pointy end. He slid his right foot forward as keys jangled,
followed by the heavy breathing of the three cannibal boys. Two for
sure were out, but Hunter wanted to keep the third locked up. One
more slide of his feet and he kicked the lantern. He bent over and
his hand wrapped around the base of the lamp, on top of the fuel
cap. The keys jingled at the end of the cell block. He unscrewed
the cap and found a full tank of white gas sloshing over his
nervous hand.

Hunter hurled the lantern down the corridor.
A shriek followed as it smashed into someone then clattered to the
ground. Hunter hustled forward, swinging the broomstick up and
down, side to side, with big sweeping chops, trying to make
contact. He didn’t want any of them getting past him.

His stick met resistance and was turned away.
He pulled it back hard and made a series of quick jabs, hoping to
stab something soft. His boot kicked a lumpy shape lying on the
floor—the lantern had taken out one of the boys. The fumes burned
his nose and made him dizzy.

An attack came from the side, ramming him
against the bars of the last cell. The caged boy reached through
and held him tight with his nails piercing his chest.

“We’re going to kill you for our master,” the
boy said close to Hunter’s ear.

Hunter gripped the shirt of the child outside
in the corridor with him, holding the kid back. The little terror
threw a fit trying to break loose: biting, scratching and kicking
every accessible part of Hunter like a six-year-old melting down
after a very long day.

“Henry?” a small, confused voice drifted in
the darkness. “Henry, where are you? I’m scared.”

The caged boy hissed at the back of Hunter’s
neck. “I’ve got this one. Kill her. She’s no longer one of us.”

Hunter’s boots slipped on the wet floor as he
struggled to hold the boy from running off. The caged one squeezed
harder, tearing into Hunter. The other struck him in the face,
trying to pull free. Hunter’s stick was gone. He had both hands
tied up in the kid’s shirt. He worked one loose and dug into his
pocket. He pulled out his lock blade that he kept oiled, polished
and sharp. He flicked his wrist and the blade sprung open. One
swing and he stabbed the side of the boy with him in the hall. The
child screamed and swiveled away. Hunter swung once more, but the
kid twisted out of the way and tripped, then smacked hard against
the wall.

Hunter raised the knife. His shoulder
protesting in agony, he arched down, bringing the knife towards the
last boy, who released him and jumped out of the way.

Quickly, Hunter stepped out of the gas on the
floor. He closed his knife, still unable to penetrate the thick
darkness, and unnerved by the harsh breathing of the last boy.

“My master and I will hunt you down and
everyone you try to save,” the boy said from behind bars.

Hunter slipped the knife into his pocket and
pulled out his Zippo. He flicked the starter and found the end of
the puddle of gas, making sure he wasn’t standing in it. The two
boys who had shared a cell lay silent and still on the wet floor at
the end. The last boy squinted hard at Hunter through the cell
bars. Then realization struck and he rattled the cage in
desperation.

Hunter released a long steady breath,
determined to do what was necessary, and hating it. “Tommy can
bring it anytime. I’m sorry about this, but you’re not going to be
there.”

Hunter ignited the white gas and a blue flame
curled across the floor and quickly climbed the wall to the
ceiling. He turned around, now able to see the little girl with her
normal eyes staring at him in fear, as if he were the bad guy.
Hunter smiled, unsure of what it really looked like, considering
the screams and spreading fire.

“It’s all right. I know your brother,
Henry.”

Hunter ran past her into the cell and found
Barbie unconscious. He kept his sight from straying to the body of
the girl he grappled with while Barbie performed her magic. Hunter
scooped Barbie up and met Henry’s sister by the cell door.

“Let’s get out of here,” he told her. “That
way, but stay close to the wall.”

He carried Barbie down the hallway leading to
the light outside. All the other kids were still hanging around the
lobby until Hunter walked in and led them out. The sun was high
overhead and the heat hammered him as his energy faded. He stumbled
across and down the street to the building where the Cozad kids had
been trapped before his arrival.

Hunter laid Barbie in the shade next to the
building and dropped beside her. He rested her head in his lap then
stared across the street. The fire spread throughout the building
then leapt to the next.

His mind numbed to everything. The kids all
settled near him and watched the fire consume the building like a
giant funeral pyre. Hunter barely noticed Henry’s sister. The other
kids kept a wary eye on her, as if she would go stark raving mad
any second. Quietly, she sat next to Barbie’s feet.

Hunter waited and watched. His thoughts
turned over the horrible events that took place in the dark cell.
Spasms fed through his arms and legs as his body released his
terror-filled adrenaline. His good eye blurred with tears because
of the violence he’d been forced into using to save Barbie and
Henry’s sister, and every kid in this town. It was one thing to
fight for something. Hunter never wanted to have to kill for it.
Even if the ones he had to kill were demonic cannibals, they had
been ordinary kids not so long ago. He lowered his head and cried,
covering his face so the others couldn’t watch his despair.

Hunter jumped when someone touched his neck.
Barbie stared up at him.

“It’s not your fault.”

Hunter looked away. The bus turned down the
street and came roaring toward them, followed by Henry pushing
Hunter’s motorbike. Barbie sat up and Hunter wiped his face with
rough swipes. He stood and helped her to her feet.

“Let’s get out of here.”

Scout barged into his apartment, crossed the
living room, and punched his bedroom door. Pain shot through his
wrist. He punched the door again with the other fist.

Mark followed inside. “Stop it, Scout. You’re
just going to hurt the door.”

“Where were you, man? Raven and I were
attacked in the middle of town and the sheriff was nowhere to be
found.”

Samuel guided Raven through the door. Her
hand was pressed to her forehead trying to stanch the bleeding.
Scout hurried to the kitchen and wet a washcloth from their clean
water bucket. He wrung out the excess and brought it over to her.
She took it from him without meeting his eyes and held it against
her wound.

“Look what Billy did.”

“Billy?” Samuel and Mark said together.

“He’s the one telling everybody I got Jimmy
killed. I’m sure of it.”

Mark shook his head. “But Billy is a nice
little kid. Why would he do that?”

“Why don’t you ask him? He’s been feeding
Dylan with that story, getting him all fired up, and half the town
too. Then he threw that rock at Raven. Where were you, Mark?”

Mark looked at Samuel then back at Scout. “We
were having lunch. It’s been a long morning with the delivery and
all. Not to mention the demon dogs.”

“Hellhounds,” Samuel said.

Mark frowned, agitated. “Whatever.”

Catherine knocked on the open door. “May we
come in?”

Scout waved her inside. “Come over here and
take a look at Raven. She got hit in the head with a rock.”

Molly followed Catherine inside. Catherine
grabbed a wooden chair as she passed the table and scooted it over
next to Raven. “Have a seat so I can examine the damage.”

Raven removed the towel. Molly came up beside
Catherine and they both inspected the small cut like they were
about to perform major surgery.

“Doesn’t look that bad,” Molly told
Catherine. “Closing the wound shouldn’t take too much out of
you.”

Catherine focused on Raven. “Do you want me
to take care of it for you, Raven? Otherwise, you’ll probably have
a little scar.”

Raven returned the damp washcloth to her
forehead and reapplied pressure. “No, I’ll just put a Band-Aid on
it.”

Catherine patted her knee. “It will be just
fine. The scar will be tiny anyways, and that’s only if it does
scar.” She shifted her gaze over to Scout. “So what’s going on
around here? You had the whole town in an uproar. Why on earth were
you screaming obscenities?”

Scout opened his mouth. He closed it again
and stared at Catherine until her return stare made him
uncomfortable. “Everybody thinks I got Jimmy killed.”

“Where would anyone get that idea?” Molly
laid a hand on Scout’s arm. “You did everything you could.” Her
eyes shifted and she nodded to an empty space in the apartment.
“Jimmy made the choice. No one could have stopped him.”

“Billy is telling Dylan that Jimmy died
because I snuck off to save Raven.”

“Billy wasn’t even there when that happened,”
Molly said. “Where would he have heard about that?”

Mark cleared his throat. “This might be my
fault.” He looked at Scout. “Remember when you told me about
regretting the way things went down that last morning in Denver. I
talked about it with Billy, trying to get a bigger picture.”

“Why?” Scout asked.

“I don’t know. I didn’t think it was a big
deal or that he would twist it like this. Vanessa is always saying
what a little angel he is in school.”

“Great,” Scout said. “So how do we fix this
mess?” He grabbed his backpack and rummaged through his first aid
kit, setting out his bottle of iodine, a cotton ball and a
Band-Aid.

“I’ll go talk to Billy,” Catherine said. “We
have a relationship.”

Scout stopped fiddling with the medical
supplies and turned. Everyone’s eyebrows were raised in response to
the little girl’s statement. Samuel chuckled like he’d just
formulated an evil plot to take over the world.

Catherine folded her arms. “You people need
to get your minds out of the gutter.”

Scout squirted some red iodine on the cotton
ball. He gently removed Raven’s hand that held the washcloth and
looked over the cut. “This will sting for a sec.” Scout pressed the
cotton against her wound and she didn’t even blink. “Are you
okay?”

Raven glanced at him quickly and nodded.

“I’m sorry about all this,” he said.

Raven snatched the Band-Aid out of his hand.
“I want to take a look before I cover it up.” She left for their
bedroom and closed the door.

“I’ll talk with her,” Molly said. She knocked
and asked to enter. Raven’s reply was muffled and Molly stepped
inside.

“Have a seat,” Scout offered the group left
standing.

“We should get out of here and give you guys
some peace,” Mark said. “I’ll go with Catherine to talk to Billy. I
want to see if he’s using what I told him to cause all this
trouble.”

“But you have your pants on now,” Catherine
said with a look of pure innocence. “That’s no fun at all.”

Mark’s face blazed the color of the setting
sun. His ears burned even brighter. Catherine giggled and reached
for his hand, pulling him out the door and down the stairs.

Samuel drummed his fingers on top of the
table. “I’ll go find Dylan so we can talk about how tough he thinks
he is.”

Scout shook his head. “You don’t have to do
that, man. I can handle myself.”

“Yeah, I know, but this isn’t good for the
town. Jimmy would want me to put a stop to all this nonsense.
Besides, Dylan’s a punk. He might need a bit more persuasion.”

“I’m coming with you,” Molly said, exiting
the bedroom. “I don’t want you doing anything stupid.”

“Like stand on the porch until five huge dogs
are within snapping distance before finally making a move? You mean
stupid like that?”

Molly placed her hands on her hips and stuck
out her tongue. “You’re alive aren’t you?”

“More like back from the dead. And you’ve
also ruined my Nirvana concert shirt.”

“I didn’t ruin it. It’s just fine.”

“It’s not fine! You’re wearing it. I was
saving it for a special occasion and now you’ve gone and ruined
it.”

“And everyone tells me I used to be a drama
queen. Let’s go.” Molly pushed him towards the door.

Scout walked them out. “How is she?” he asked
Molly.

“She wanted to take a nap. She’s really
upset. Let her get some rest and then just listen to what she has
to say. I’ll come back later and talk with her some more. I didn’t
realize how isolated she’d been feeling here.”

Scout leaned against the doorjamb and shoved
his hands into his pockets. “I didn’t either until today.”

“Yes, well, Raven has been sensitive to the
differences a lot longer than any of us, but she would, being from
the outside.”

“All right, Oprah, let’s hit the road,”
Samuel said and ran down to the street.

“Who’s Oprah?” Scout asked Molly.

She shrugged and followed Samuel.

Scout winced when he pulled his hands back
out of his pockets. His swollen, red knuckles hurt but he didn’t
know if that happened in the scuffle or when he punched the door.
Inside, he filled a bowl with water to soak his hands. He
considered joining Raven, but his nerves were too frayed to sleep.
He carried the bowl to the couch and stared at nothing.

His friends had left to smooth everything
out, like anything could ever be smoothed out again. Scout kept
picturing the crowd of faces on Main Street. Some of them believed
Dylan and Billy and that hurt Scout more than any physical force.
They thought he was capable of something so terrible that they were
willing to stand by and let Dylan and his friends beat him up.
These were the kids Scout had grown up with over the past seven
years. This was his family—his fellow Independents. How could
everything be falling apart?