Hungry Independents (Book 2) (21 page)

Mark tapped the bat in his free hand.

Jimmy returned to the task of
self-preservation. “I mean it, Mark. I’m okay.” He sounded scared;
it wasn’t difficult. “I don’t even know why I’m tied up. I don’t
remember anything.”

“I’ll tell you what happened. In fact I’ll
show you what happened, what you did to Preston.” Mark bent over
and picked Jimmy up by one of his tied arms like he was a Samsonite
suitcase packed for Grandma’s house.

“Mark, put him down!” Catherine snapped.
“What happened in the other room has nothing to do with Billy. He
wasn’t responsible.” She slapped the bat out of his other hand and
poked him in the chest.

Mark dropped Jimmy to the ground, knocking
the wind out of him.

“Billy was possessed. That means he had no
knowledge of what the creature in charge was doing, so just drop
it.”

“He already did,” Jimmy said at their feet.
He gasped from the lack of oxygen combined with the pain that
jarred every one of his joints.

Catherine bent down and untied his hands then
his feet. Jimmy rubbed the feeling back into his small wrists and
marveled at how different they were from his old set of long arms.
This definitely moved to the top of the “weirdest things that ever
happen to him” list.

Mark stooped over to retrieve his bat again.
He walked to the door, staring at Jimmy the whole time, and leaned
the bat against the doorjamb. Then Mark looked outside. His jaw
fell open from whatever sight he viewed. “The cloud has created
some type of giant dust storm out over the fields. What is that
thing, Catherine?”

She joined him at the door. “My guess is it’s
a cloud of bugs and they’re eating up all the crops.”

“What!” Jimmy leapt to his feet. He ran past
Catherine out to the front lawn and stared off toward the fields
where the giant swarm tore into the earth like a tornado. He
staggered like he was intoxicated from spending time with Samuel’s
barrel of wine.

Catherine wrapped her arm around his waist
for support. With Jimmy inside Billy’s smaller body, they now stood
eye to eye.

“What is happening?”

She stared at him then nodded. “Famine’s
coming. This is just the start. I’m not sure what type of entity is
responsible for this, but we should expect the worst. Like Chase
and his plague.”

“What can we do?”

She pointed to the cloud. “There really isn’t
anything we can do against that swarm of bugs. We’ll wait it out
and see what’s left.” Catherine turned to Mark. “We should go to
Main Street and assess the damages.”

Jimmy watched, afraid to move, as the cloud
of bugs continued churning dust and debris over his fields. All of
Independents’s food was being obliterated. All of Jimmy’s hard work
over the years was being destroyed by something like Chase’s
plague.

This late in the season, there would be no
time to grow enough food to make it through the winter. They would
be lucky if half their population survived. He remembered something
about hellhounds killing all the chickens and hogs this morning,
but at the time he was too excited to see everyone again to
consider the implications.

“Billy?” Catherine said like she had repeated
it a couple of times and was now worried. “Mark and I need to go
check if everyone’s all right. You should come with us.”

Jimmy broke out of his spiral of thoughts
leading him deeper into something he had no control over at the
moment. “Why do we need to check on everybody?”

“Because before that cloud of bugs hit the
fields, it sat over Main Street for a time. We need to make sure no
one is injured.”

Jimmy started moving towards Main Street.
Ginger was there with his newborn son. Jimmy sped up.

“Hey, wait for us,” Mark called.

He pretended not to hear and pumped his legs
faster, no longer afraid of Mark and his bat now that something
threatened his family.

He rapidly approached the center of town and
noticed the debris first. Gravel from the roofs of the buildings
was scattered everywhere like gray pieces of hail after a storm.
Sparkling edges of jagged glass were interspersed as well, and
Jimmy was thankful that Billy had chosen to wear shoes today.

He turned the corner at the edge of the
building that was Ginger’s Clothing Center. He hit the cobbles of
Main Street and skidded to his butt right in front of a tall kid
with black hair and clothes that didn’t fit. Jimmy noticed the
boy’s long fingernails, splayed out like he intended to use them.
Then he looked up into the kid’s dark, dilated eyes. Eyes like
Chase’s.

The kid smiled down at him. “Ah, there you
are at last. I have arrived.”

Jimmy crab-walked backwards until he sliced
his hand open on a piece of broken glass. He stopped and pulled the
sliver out, releasing a warm stream of blood that trickled down his
arm to his elbow. Jimmy pressed his hand to his shirt.

“That looks delicious,” the boy said, looming
over him. “Why do you move away from me? You do remember your
master?” He narrowed his dark eyes as his long oily hair swung away
from his face. A look of shock replaced suspicion. “You! But you’re
supposed to be dead.”

Jimmy stood as Catherine and Mark ran up
beside him.

“I know,” Jimmy said. “I’ve been thinking the
same thing all day.”

Late afternoon was slipping away when Hunter
led the Cozad kids back to their bus. The knotted group stumbled
along looking at the sky. They found Brandon in a bloody heap
underneath bus seats, amidst the broken glass from shattered
windows. His skin had been torn away and death followed. Hunter
hated being right about the safety of the bus. Nobody wanted to
ride in it again. Hunter’s motorbike had fallen over, but was
otherwise unharmed.

“What are we going to do?” Henry asked.

“Let’s go back to the truck stop and see what
we can start up. Hopefully we’ll find a couple of vans or
SUVs.”

Hunter and Henry rolled the generator and
battery charger the half mile distance to the truck stop on I-80
and located a Winnebago suitable for the trip home. They searched
inside the store for supplies, swapping out the old battery, and
while the new one charged they changed the oil, filled the gas
tank, inflated the tires, and wiped down the dash with Armor All.
Henry drove the RV back to the pond where everyone waited, still
searching the sky for more bug clouds.

In their absence, the others had debated
about what to do with Brandon’s body. No one had the stomach to
pull him out of the bus. Instead they had siphoned gas out of the
tank and splashed it inside the empty window frames. Wesley held a
makeshift torch with cloth wrapped and doused in gasoline around
one end. Hunter didn’t want to know where the cloth came from or
why it was dotted red. He handed his Zippo lighter over and walked
away, not really in the mood for another fire today.

Wesley lit the fabric and a rush of flames
and black smoke followed.

“Thank you for everything, Brandon. We’ll
miss you,” Carissa said, and her brother tossed the fire through a
busted window. The bus ignited and everyone scurried for the
Winnebago parked a hundred yards away.

Barbie walked over as Hunter started his
bike. “Can I ride with you for a while?”

“Are you sure? It might be more comfortable
in the RV.”

The line waiting to board the Winnebago had
dwindled to Carissa and Wesley. There was a couch and a couple beds
for the forty-two remaining Cozad kids.

He shrugged. “Yeah, that’s fine. Go ahead and
get on.” He made room for her by unhooking the bungee cords around
his backpack on the end of the seat. “Do you mind wearing this for
me?”

“Not at all.” Barbie looped the straps over
her shoulders. She threw her leg across the seat and scooted up
close to Hunter.

He resisted the urge to slide up or push her
back. Any movement might provoke a comment from his new riding
companion that he didn’t want to deal with at the moment. They only
had a two hour drive before reaching Independents; he could handle
the closeness.

Henry pulled the Winnebago forward, giving
Hunter the thumbs up. Hunter returned the gesture and clicked into
first, second and then third as the bike picked up speed. They
traveled into the falling dusk of nighttime, past the farm that had
been their refuge during the grasshopper storm. Hunter turned his
single headlight on and Henry painted his back with bright
light.

They followed an easy path toward
Independents, created by the insects. An enormous swath of dirt,
two football fields wide, headed straight south. Hunter wanted to
ride fast and catch up with his imagination that had already
arrived in Independents, flashing him all the gory details it could
conjure. Brandon’s death had twisted into a town full of Hunter’s
friends, hacked and chewed into pieces by the terrible power of
Tommy the Perv’s storm. Hunter shook his head in agitation, trying
to clear his thoughts, but the images had taken root.

Barbie leaned into him and tightened her grip
around his waist. At least it took Hunter’s mind away from things
he had no control over.

“Why do you keep coming on to me?” he asked
over the engine noise.

“Well, somebody has a high opinion of
himself,” Barbie said loudly in his ear. “Can’t a girl flirt a
little?”

“It’s just making me uncomfortable. That’s
all.”

“Oh, sugar, why would it make you
uncomfortable? I’m only out for a bit of fun. You can play along if
you want. I won’t bite much and only in the places you want me
to.”

“I have a girlfriend.”

“Yes, I know already. Please. You don’t have
to tell me every time. She’s not here.”

“She will be soon,” Hunter whispered.

“What was that?” She clawed his belly.

Hunter fought to keep from crashing his bike,
with the lights from the Winnebago sending their crazy shadow
wobbling ahead.

“I said she will be here soon. I mean, we
will be there where she is… soon.”

The conversation broke, and they rode in
silence except for the engine whine and the whoosh of their speed.
Hunter didn’t think about the fate of his home and the people there
anymore. He thought about Barbie’s hands wrapped around him and her
body pressing against his back.

She shouted, “Maybe we should stop for the
night.”

Exhausted, Hunter wanted nothing more than to
pull over and rest. But he rolled on the acceleration and sped for
home.

Barbie eased off his back and settled her
hands lightly on his hips.

They traveled for an hour after leaving the
burning bus, surrounded by darkness and the stars above, with
another hour left before reaching Independents. The RV rode over
the new super highway created by insects. It made the trip so much
easier, but the churned up, scattered prairie grass also made it
much more disturbing.

With help from the Winnebago lights, Hunter
spotted large mounds lying in their path. He slowed to a stop
before riding into their midst, holding his hand up to keep Henry
from running them over. The big RV pulled up to their right.

“What is it?” Henry asked out the window.

“I’m not sure. We’ll go check. Wait here.”
Hunter stretched to peek inside the window. “What’s everybody
doing?”

Wesley leaned over from the front passenger
seat. “They’re all asleep. Henry won’t let me drive.”

Hunter observed the red rims around Henry’s
eyes. “You look pretty beat.”

“I’m all right.”

“Are you sure? Why not let Wesley take the
wheel a while so you can get some rest?”

Henry looked back inside then leaned out the
window. “I don’t think he can reach the pedals.”

“I can too,” Wesley cried.

Henry shushed him. He pointed back to the
interior of the Winnebago.

“I can too reach the pedals,” Wesley said,
softer. “You just like being in charge.”

Henry faced the windshield and blew out a
giant sigh.

Hunter smiled. “Just give him a chance. He
can’t hit anything out here except for me.”

Henry pointed toward the dark mounds ahead.
“What about those?”

“Yeah, hold on a sec. We’ll see what it is
and be right back.” Hunter released the clutch and throttled
forward at a cautious pace. He was not taking any chances in the
dark this close to home. Who knew what Tommy had left along the way
to block their progress?

Riding up close, Hunter realized the mounds
were gruesome, bloody corpses of cattle lying in heaps strewn
across the now barren prairie. The grasshopper storm had caught the
slow moving beasts unawares. Hunter knew the herd. Comprised of two
hundred head, they roamed this part of the state and the survivors
in Independents had taken what they needed in years past for their
meat supply.

Last spring Hunter, Samuel and some of the
newly elected ranchers rounded up a dozen cows and a bull to start
their own stockyard. Bull wrangling took some ingenuity on Samuel’s
part, who dressed as a rodeo clown and ran flat out for the open
cattle trailer.

Now the cattle left behind lay stripped of
their hides and chunks of their meat. The sight renewed Hunter’s
fear for what awaited him at home. Frantic with nervous energy,
hedropped the kickstand. “Can you get off?” he asked Barbie, as
horror-filled spasms traveled along his arms.

She slid off the rear of the seat and Hunter
quickly dismounted, walking tight circles around his bike as she
worked her way out of the straps of his backpack.

He stopped, looked at the dead cattle, and
then redirected the look at Barbie. “What is happening here?”

“I’d say our enemy is drastically decreasing
the food supply.” She folded her arms and rubbed her biceps against
the chill in the air. “There’s a reason he’s called Famine.”