Sudden Independents (31 page)

Hunter smiled and waved the boy over. The kid looked behind him and then turned back and pointed at his chest.

“Do you want to know what an ocean is?”

The kid scooted off his seat and brought his tray over. “You’re the one that beat up Tommy the Perv last night, aren’t you?”

Hunter cocked an eyebrow. “Do you know what a perv is?”

The kid nodded vigorously. “It’s a person who does mean things to girls, right?”

“That’s right. What’s your name?”

“Billy. What’s yours?”

“Michael.” Hunter held out his hand and Billy shook it with his small, dirty one.

Then Billy eyed Hunter suspiciously. “So what’s an ocean?”

“An ocean is a large body of water. It’s what separates the continents from each other.”

“What’s a continent?”

Hunter frowned. “How old are you, Billy?”

“Nine,” Billy said. He puffed out his little chest and then it fell again. “I think. I lost track about a year ago when I was eight, I think.”

“Isn’t there a school here for the younger kids to go to?”

Billy’s snot-encrusted face went blank. “What’s a school?”

Hunter opened his mouth twice before he could find the answer. “A school is a place where you learn about things like how to read and write; how to use math and science.”

Billy scratched his head, releasing a downpour of dandruff. He glanced around at the other dining hall dwellers like he was bored. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Hunter sighed and also used the moment to survey the crowd, wondering if Patrick had bothered to show up yet. Still no sign of him, he looked back at Billy.

“A continent is a giant land mass. There are seven continents. You are in the middle of the continent known as North America, which is probably why you’ve never seen an ocean. There are four oceans that separate the continents. If you go over the mountains and follow the setting sun you will eventually run into the Pacific Ocean. If you go east where the sun rises, you will find the Atlantic Ocean. To the north is the Arctic Ocean and to the south is the continent of South America.”

A line of drool hung from Billy’s mouth to the table. Hunter handed him a napkin.

“Where are the edges?” Billy asked.

“What edges?”

Billy’s face shifted from moronic to self–righteous. “You know, the edges of the world, where you fall into space.”

Time stretched until Hunter noticed a small, dirty hand waving in front of him. He blinked his eyes. He allowed a maniacal sounding chuckle to escape and noticed several kids turn to stare at him with worry.

Billy placed his hands on the table and leaned back like he may need to bolt suddenly. “Are you okay?”

“Sure,” Hunter said, sitting up straight. “You do know the world is round?”

Billy frowned, collected his tray and stood. “It’s not cool to mess with people’s heads,” he said before stalking off.

“Wait, I was telling the truth.”

“Sure. Next thing you’ll tell me is the egg came before the chicken.”

Hunter discarded his trash and dropped his plate on the growing stack that the dishwasher ignored. Only a couple other kids were left finishing their breakfast. The serving line was closed and the girl with her can of casino chips had already cleared out. Patrick was a no-show and Hunter was now void of options that would lead him to Catherine.

“Hey, Billy,” Hunter called once outside, trying hard to keep up with the little kid. “I need to ask you something.”

“Can’t,” Billy said in a huff. “I’m already late and Patrick will punch my teeth out if I don’t hurry.”

“Patrick? That’s who I was supposed to meet for breakfast. He was going to give me work for my chips.”

Billy stopped and turned. Hunter barely missed walking through him. Hands on his hips, Billy stared Hunter up and down like he was measuring him for a coffin. Then he shrugged.

“You better follow me, then.”

“Where are we going?”

“To the Chicken Shack.”

A
fter Hunter left, Jimmy struggled under the emotional strain that threatened to drag him down. First Scout ran off on a crazy one-man rescue attempt, and now his brother was on his way to meet Patrick the psychopath. Jimmy grabbed the hair under his cap and squeezed.

Molly stared at him. “Are you okay?”

Jimmy took a deep breath and left his hair alone. “No. And I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You should,” she said. “If not with me, than you should with Ginger.” Molly dropped the subject, spun around and walked away.

Jimmy followed her back inside the new house and grabbed his backpack in the kitchen. He searched for Ginger, assuming she’d be arranging their new bedroom, but found her dusting the living room instead. Jimmy was amazed by the amount of dust buildup after six years. Brown clouds billowed in the air, prompting him to open the front door to give the dust an escape route. A cold breeze whipped in, swirling the tiny particles into a mini tornado. Jimmy knew what they really needed was a vacuum—and some electricity.

Ginger fanned with a brown couch cushion, trying to get the dust cloud to move. “I didn’t realize how bad this would be when I started,” she said.

“No turning back now,” Jimmy replied, coughing from the dust rushing into his mouth. He pulled on a window that opened with a frustrated creak and popped the screen off, allowing it to fall outside.

Molly joined Ginger; she went to work with another cushion, fanning toward the door, while Jimmy opened another window. Finally the dust rolled out, dispersing into the front yard.

The two girls were covered in dust and Jimmy started laughing. Dust saturated their hair. It covered their faces and arms and tiny piles sat upon their shoulders. He couldn’t stop laughing, even as the taste of dust became thick and gritty in his mouth.

Ginger and Molly joined the laughter and pointing, first at one another and then at Jimmy. As though of one mind, the two girls attacked him with the cushions. Jimmy laughed even harder, trying in vain to defend himself as he realized the color of the sofa was not brown, but red. All three fell to the floor and wiped their watery eyes, leaving clear streaks down their faces like sad clowns from the circus.

Molly sat back and looked around. “Chances are the rest of the house will be just as bad. We should keep cleaning before washing off.”

“Are we going to have enough water?” Ginger asked.

“We’ll have to manage,” Jimmy said. “All the water bottles got filled last night. We can get more when the sun goes down.”

“I’ll go look and see if there’s any stored in the kitchen,” Molly said.

Jimmy helped Ginger up and began brushing her hair off. Dust puffed out of her sweater and he smiled at her dirty face. She smiled back.

“You’ve got dirt in your teeth,” he said.

She brushed a finger across them, making a smeared muddy smile. “So do you.”

Jimmy ran his tongue over his teeth and gathered a large amount of grime into a corner of his mouth before spitting it out the front door. The block was totally empty of activity; a good thing considering the racket they’d just made. He was tired of being cooped up indoors anyways. A large elm tree in the front yard stretched up to the blue heavens, its limbs covered by tiny dark buds as spring gathered its strength for the big push against winter. Jimmy checked the block once more and shut the door.

Molly called from the kitchen, where Jimmy and Ginger found her with a gallon jug of water in each hand. “There are two more in the pantry,” she said.

They all grinned. Molly set the water down and turned to the small camp-stove they’d brought along for cooking. As Molly started preparing breakfast for everyone, Ginger and Jimmy rinsed their mouths, swapping a plastic jug back and forth.

Then Ginger and Jimmy climbed the stairs and continued their dusting duties. The first door they reached led to a bedroom with a full-sized bed in the center. A painted wooden sign hanging on the wall read, “For Our Guests, A Place to Rest.” Sunshine beamed through the only window. Dust lay thick on the bedspread, but Jimmy figured it would be easy to fold it up and shake it off outside.

Ginger opened the window and popped off the screen, pulling it inside. Then she started folding the bedspread.

“I think I can handle this one,” she said.

Jimmy walked down the hall to the bathroom and opened the small window there before stepping across to the last room. All the activity kept his mind from worrying too much. It felt good to be doing something other than sitting in front of a window.

He opened the door and stared, letting his eyes adjust to the dimness before he entered. When he did step inside, he saw two dried-husks of decomposing bodies on the bed. Quickly he took another step, pressed his back against the door to close it and turned the lock.

Jimmy had seen a lot of death over the years. He became jaded right after the plague because death was everywhere. He helped remove a lot of dead bodies from Independents. The number didn’t compare to a city the size of Denver with its surrounding suburbs, but still, there had been enough.

He found this scene bearable. Dried-husks weren’t slimy.

He walked to the window, where a shaft of light tried to filter in through the dirty windowpane. He pulled on the cord that separated the curtains, allowing at least a little more sunshine access to the room.

Across from the bed a bureau showcased a series of framed photographs. Jimmy first noticed the black-and-white photo of a couple, her smiling in a white wedding dress, him grinning in a military uniform. Another picture, framed in silver, was of the woman, a few years and a different hairstyle later, holding a bald chubby baby. The baby had the father’s grin.

More pictures on the bureau told the rest of the couple’s life story. The son in his own uniform with the United States flag behind him, the son with his own bride, pictures of kids, a blonde girl, her younger brother, the little boy holding a fishing rod, grinning with his Grandpa.

Jimmy touched the top of each frame as he imagined the love and happiness this family shared. There’s something powerful about a completed life, he mused. Memories were made that not even the plague had totally obliterated.

Jimmy wondered if that’s what scared him most. He didn’t feel like his life was complete. If he’d only let Ginger know how he felt earlier, and if they’d given birth to a child, like Mark and Vanessa, then he might be ready. But he knew Vanessa would say there was no way she could leave her child now.