Sudden Independents (34 page)

“Oh, wasn’t that nice,” she said.

“What?” Jimmy asked with stunned eyes.

“He told me what you did for the Fletchers. He really liked them. Mr. Fletcher and his son planted him here when he was just a little sapling and helped him grow big and strong.” Catherine smiled at the backyard assembly and opened her arms wide. “So, who wants firsts?”

Ginger ran and dropped to her knees and the contest for who could squeeze the hardest began. Molly placed her wages on the little girl. Jimmy stood next in line. Molly helped Scout with Raven, knowing she would get her chance with Catherine in a bit. She was still unsure of how she would greet the little miracle worker.

Scout nodded to Molly as they moved toward the house. “I don’t know what Chase did to her. She was hysterical when we found her. Catherine used her powers and calmed her down, but who knows if that will last.”

Molly frowned. Catherine used her power whenever the little girl saw fit, but Molly guessed she was a better choice if Chase was the other alternative. Images of the possible things Raven suffered through sent shivers racing through Molly’s arms and legs. She half considered putting her sweater back on and staying in the sunshine.

Jimmy came up behind them. “Let’s get her inside. Can I help carry her?”

Scout said, “No, I got her.”

Molly knew Scout was fading fast the way his legs wobbled climbing the three steps to the deck. She held the backdoor as he negotiated Raven through the narrow opening.

Jimmy followed. “Scout, I’m sorry if my delaying you caused this to happen to Raven. Thank you for finding Catherine.”

Scout hurried through the house and laid his sleeping girlfriend on the red couch. “Don’t sweat it. I’m sorry I ran out like I did. I either got really lucky or someone up there gave me a big hand. I was crazy to go alone.”

“Love makes us do funny things,” Jimmy said.

Scout caressed Raven’s brow. “Was that a song?”

“Who knows?”

Molly stood behind them, watching Raven’s chest rise and fall in her sleep. When a little hand slipped into hers, she looked down into eyes of blue sky. Catherine guided her back into the kitchen.

“Are you mad at me for what I did to you?” the little girl asked.

“No, I guess not. Thinking back on it, I’m angry mostly with myself. But it was like I was trapped inside someone I didn’t want to be and couldn’t find my way out.”

Catherine nodded. “I was in a position where there was little choice. I guess I left you with little choice as well. I’m sorry. If I had done nothing to help you, then you would be stuck with Chase—and probably worse off than that poor girl.”

“What happened to her?”

“Chase happened, only this time she saw how truly evil he is because she had time away from his power and influence.”

“He’s like how I used to be, right?”

Catherine reached up and brushed Molly’s cheek. “You were never like him.”

Molly knelt down and opened her arms. Catherine walked into them, tenderly wrapping her little embrace around Molly. Molly smiled as Catherine’s warmth seeped into her, giving her courage and strength and hope.

“It’s okay, Raven,” Scout said from the front room. “You’re safe.”

Catherine and Molly rejoined the others. Raven sat up with a nervous flicker in her eyes, scanning the faces in the room. “Is he here? Where is he?”

“He’s not here,” Scout said. “You’re safe. He’ll never hurt you again, I promise.”

Raven’s forehead knotted, then her eyes cleared and she shook her head. “I’m not talking about Chase—Hunter. Is Hunter here?”

“No,” Jimmy said.

Raven looked up at him. “I’m sorry. I held out as long as I could.”

Molly’s breath caught in her chest and the shivering returned. She was suddenly very afraid for Hunter.

“I told Chase that Hunter was meeting Patrick for breakfast.”

T
he industrial warehouse that was the Chicken Shack smelled like death. His decision was made after plucking the second chicken—Hunter hated his new job.

Chickens clucked freely inside a fenced area, and then someone would place one of the birds on a bloody stump and lop off its head with a hatchet. The headless chickens would run circles until its body figured out something was missing. Finally somebody would tote the feathery carcasses over in a plastic bin to Hunter’s table for plucking.

Hunter understood the basic needs of a town, like food, water and shelter. He never considered the pluckers. Back home, he left the plucking to the other kids while he traveled the countryside, seeing different sights with each new mile.

He reached for his third dead chicken and gripped the soft feathers, rolling his wrist and removing the feathers from the skin the way the other pluckers had taught him. Hunter knew he would soon go crazy if he spent every day doing this monotonous routine.

Billy swept by with his broom, gathering what feathers he could into little piles on the sticky floor. He hummed a happy tune, performing his pointless job. A water hose and steel brush were the only tools capable of scouring up these bloody feathers.

Hunter scowled when he noticed that Billy was the youngest kid in the place. Billy should be doing something else besides odd jobs in this house of death.

“How do you like it so far?” Billy asked.

Hunter wiped sweat from his brow. He jutted out his bottom lip and blew a feather off his forehead. “It’s a blast.”

The comment earned a round of chuckles at the table. “Beats the Hog House,” someone said. Hunter joined the chorus of agreements before all heads bowed back to their chickens.

Billy leaned into Hunter. “I asked Phillip about oceans and continents.”

“Who’s Phillip?”

“He’s the smartest guy I know.” Billy swept some more at the pile gathering around Hunter’s feet. “He said you were right about all that stuff. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.”

Hunter smiled. “That’s all right. It’s not your fault nobody’s taught you anything. Maybe during lunch I can show you a place where you can learn about other stuff.”

“Really?” Billy’s face beamed pure pleasure.

“Sure, why not.”

A pear-shaped kid waddled over with his beady eyes sunken behind massive cheeks. The boy’s dirty shirt crept over his belly button. He had an outie.

“Hey, you two quit screwing off and get back to work.”

“Right away, Phillip,” Billy said, furiously sweeping the sticky feathers.

Hunter refused to budge. He eyed Phillip until the fat kid turned around and headed back the way he came. Phillip climbed atop his stool next to a wall, crossed his arms and continued his search for slackers.

“That’s the smartest guy you know?” Hunter laughed, shook his head and finished plucking his chicken.

Billy fidgeted with the broom handle and glanced over his shoulder. “Patrick says to listen to Phillip, so I listen.”

Hunter tossed his naked chicken into the plastic bin, and claimed another dead bird. “Where is Patrick?”

“I don’t know. He hasn’t gotten here yet. He pretty much comes and goes whenever he wants. That’s why Phillip’s in charge.”

“Why? Are they related or something?”

That brought a round of warier chuckles, but everyone stayed focused on their plucking.

“Be careful saying those kinds of things. The wrong person might overhear and you don’t want to get fired, or worse.” Billy dumped a dustpan full of feathers in the trash. “Phillip’s dad owned a chicken farm. That’s why he’s in charge. Phillip taught us what to do.”

“Then what does Patrick do?”

“He likes chopping off chicken heads,” Billy said. He grabbed a plastic bin of plucked carcasses and transported them to another part of the building.

•  •  •

A nearby church bell rang, signaling lunchtime. Phillip passed out casino chips and told everyone to hurry back when the bell rang again or they could find a different job. The last thing Hunter felt like doing was eating. He considered checking in with Jimmy, but that was too far away and he might not make it back in time. He decided to educate Billy instead.

Billy skipped after Hunter like they were going to the toy store, as fresh air and warm sunshine brushed away the remnant of chicken death. They approached a sparkling pond occupied by Canadian geese dressed in mottled shades of brown feathers. Hunter washed off at the muddy edge and the geese congregated close-by seeking handouts.

“I’m glad we’re not plucking those things.”

“That’s only on Thursdays.”

Hunter would be out of Denver by Thursday. If not, then he would make sure to skip work at the Goose Shack.

They continued walking through a neighborhood until Hunter spotted the tall metal pole standing in the grassy area of a circular drive. He led Billy to the building named Henderson Elementary. They stepped inside, choosing a careful path across a pair of shattered glass doors lying on the floor.

“What is this place?” Billy asked.

Hunter glanced into a room and then traveled farther down a hallway cluttered with paper, books and broken furniture. “This was a school. A place where they used to send kids to learn about things before all the grownups died.” He walked into another room and pulled down a rolled-up map. “See, this is the world. The blue parts are the oceans and the brown and green are the continents.”

Billy inspected the map closely and narrowed his eyes. “It’s flat.”

“Well, yeah, maps are flat. But here…” Hunter crossed over the scattered notebook paper, broken pencils and other debris that littered the classroom. “This is called a globe.” He lifted the dingy orb off a filing cabinet and gave it a spin to whirl away the dust. Then he handed the world to Billy.

Billy set the globe down on a desk and traced his finger over the oceans and continents. “Where are we?”

Hunter pointed to Denver. “Feel these bumps here? They represent the mountains.”

Billy touched the bumps and gazed out the window where the mountains rose to challenge the western sky. “That’s amazing.”

Hunter smiled. “At least now you know where you are.”

•  •  •

When they returned to the Chicken Shack, Hunter wished he could do anything besides rip the feathers from a dead bird. But he started plucking when Phillip mounted his backside to the stool and shouted, “Work!”