Chase actually grinned. “Three in our town will turn eighteen this year. Patrick’s birthday is in the spring.”
Jimmy spoke to Patrick. “Mine’s April 5th.”
Patrick’s eyes were flat and heavy. “You got me beat, but not by much. April 7th.”
Chase chimed back in. “I would tell you guys not to give up hope, but we’re just a bunch of dumb kids, right? We’d need either scientists to discover a cure, or a holy miracle. Unfortunately, we don’t seem to have either one.”
Jimmy leaned back in his wooden chair. Mark still held Vanessa with his arm around her shoulder. Her face was lined with grief and Jimmy knew she should leave and spend time with her baby. Silence became the centerpiece at the table.
Chase was right about the hopelessness of discovering a cure, but the miracle was not that far away. Something in Chase’s eyes told Jimmy he knew about Catherine but wanted her for all the wrong reasons. Jimmy reached for his glass and gulped the water down, along with his resolve to keep his secret.
“Do you know why the plague only affects people eighteen and older?” Chase asked.
Jimmy pushed the brim of his cap up and scratched his forehead. “No. We don’t even know what caused it in the first place. We’ve heard tons of rumors.”
Chase scooted closer to the table, eagerness making those black pupils expand. He licked his lips. “What kind of rumors have you heard?”
Jimmy considered Chase’s curiosity, trying to read the boy’s sudden excitement but figured he just wanted to understand. “People talk about a bird flu epidemic out of China, or one of our own military experiments gone wrong. Or even a combination of the two where some terrorist group used a biological weapon against the United States, but I would have expected some sort of help from other countries if we were the only ones affected.”
Chase wrung his hands together. “All of those are very good. There’s also the alien plot to wipe the planet clean so they can harvest our natural resources. It still doesn’t explain why eighteen is the cut-off. Something biological wouldn’t just affect a specific age.”
“What then?” Jimmy asked.
“Biblical.” Chase narrowed his eyes. “Have you read the Book of Revelation?”
Jimmy shifted one sore cheek on the wooden chair for the other. “My parents weren’t big on church attendance.”
“I’ve read it,” Vanessa spoke up. “I’ve read the whole Bible several times since the plague. I didn’t witness any type of rapture.”
“Don’t you think your parents did?” Chase asked.
Jimmy pulled his cap back down wanting to end the crazy talk. He never cared for this kind of stuff. “Where are you going with this, Chase? And how long before we get there?”
Patrick dropped his meaty hands on the table with a loud thump, and Jimmy shared a look with Mark. The big kid wasn’t dumb enough to start a fight in the middle of town, Jimmy hoped, but then Chase coughed and drew everyone’s attention back to him.
“Have patience, Jimmy. Book of Revelation, chapter thirteen, verse eighteen reads: ‘This calls for wisdom. Let the person who has insight calculate the number of the beast, for it is the number of man. That number is 666.’”
Chase smiled. “Eighteen is divided by six three times.”
No one else spoke in the tension of the moment. The two other members of Chase’s group remained silent, differing in their reactions to the conversation. Kessie inspected her fingernails and picked at the dirt underneath, while Patrick’s sleepy eyes looked bored and possibly hungry, for food or whatever.
Jimmy wanted this creepy party out of his town as soon as humanly possible.
“Well, Chase, it sounds like you have it all figured out. I don’t really buy it, but at least I have a new rumor for my collection. In terms of dealing with this plague, I wish we could have helped each other out.”
Jimmy spotted an upward twitch in the corner of Chase’s mouth, and found his reflection, small and trapped, in the sickly boy’s soulless gaze.
Chase pulled a white handkerchief from his front pocket and wiped his nose. “I do, too.”
FIFTEEN
Scout checked the outside temperature on the digital display of the small Toyota pickup as he coasted to a stop in front of Ginger’s house. Three hours had slipped by and the temperature only rose two degrees, from thirty-four to thirty-six. The gas gauge hung near empty. Scout was glad he’d made it back to Independents without a long walk freezing his butt off. He would fill up at the auto depot where they kept their fuel reserves in a giant tanker truck, but first he wanted to spread a little joy.
Scout sprang from the pickup like a snake in a can, excited by what he had found for Ginger and the anticipation of her reception. A foot-pedal sewing machine in pristine condition rested in the truck bed, revealing the care and love of the previous owner. Scout also found enough needles, bobbins, thread and material to supply Ginger with her own private shop.
As he unloaded the truck’s contents to the porch, Samuel walked up and leaned against the tailgate.
“What’s up? Need any help?”
“Sure, grab that pile,” Scout said, holding bolts of fabric in shades of blue, red, and green.
Samuel hopped into the bed with the creaking complaint of worn shocks and lifted his own spectrum of colored materials. “Shouldn’t this go over to the sewing shop?”
“I figured I’d give the sewing stuff to the person doing all the sewing. Anyways, this is a gift for Ginger. They got plenty of this stuff at the shop.”
“Not you, too.”
“What do you mean by that?”
Samuel smiled like a fat Tomcat climbing out of a garbage can. “There’s been a lot of interest in Ginger, lately. I understand, of course. She’s the sweetest girl in town, not to mention her curvy assets.”
Scout shrugged. “I just wanted to do something nice for her since she’s helped Vanessa with little David. You don’t have to worry about me if you got something going on with her.”
Samuel laughed. “Can you keep a secret?”
“What kind?”
“The kind that gets my butt kicked if it goes any further than you and me.”
“Oh yeah, I’m good at keeping those kind.”
Samuel squinted hard at Scout, and then he lowered his voice. “Jimmy has this huge crush on Ginger, but he’s too shy to do anything about it. I’ve been trying to figure out a way to get the two together for a while now.”
Scout grinned. “Let me handle it. I’m a natural matchmaker. How do you think Vanessa and Mark finally hooked up?”
“I thought Mark asked her out,” Samuel said, hoisting a better grip on the material.
“Please. He was scared to death, and Vanessa was no better. She kept telling me how cute he was and how much she was in love with him ’til I thought I would puke my guts out.”
“What did you do?”
Scout knocked loudly on the door and quickly regained his grip on the pile. He winked at Samuel as Ginger opened the door to her yellow house, washing them in a floral fragrance of warm air.
“Hey, Ginger,” Scout said. “I found you a bunch of sewing stuff. And you’re never going to guess who has the biggest crush on you.”
Samuel’s pile slipped from his hands and hit the porch. He stumbled off backwards and fell on the ground where he silently fumed in Scout’s direction.
“Oh my goodness! Are you okay?” Ginger asked.
Samuel jumped up and brushed off his butt. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
