Sudden Independents (24 page)

A
nother 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.

S
cout 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?”