Sudden Independents (26 page)

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.

H
unter 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.”