Sudden Independents

Hunter said nothing as he rotated the handle in the fireplace that held the cast iron pot they used for heating water. He threw two fresh logs in the fireplace, still saying nothing. He stirred up the coals and got the fire flaming again, laid his wet clothes out on the hearth, then removed the wet cushions from the couch and set them on the floor closer to the fire. He placed the orange bucket back in the corner. Only then did he acknowledge Molly.

“So what do we do now?” she asked, standing up. She expected he’d want her to help clean house. Forget that.

Hunter sighed. “Now you go home. I’m breaking up with you.”

Molly smiled. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’ve never been more serious. We’re done. I’ll pack your stuff and leave it at your door tonight.”

Something inside Molly cracked. She could hardly believe the pain as she struggled to remain standing on her shaky knees. “You…you can’t do this to me.”

“I just did,” Hunter said. “The front door is that way.”

Hot tears filled Molly’s eyes as she reached for him, but he retreated like she had transformed into some evil, contaminated thing. Her bottom lip trembled and her hands clenched into fists. This was so wrong. It was the worst thing in the world and she wished it would all just end so she could stop hurting. This couldn’t happen to her—not like this—not again. He was just a stupid kid! She would kill him first.

“You’re going to regret this,” she growled.

“Maybe.”

“Bastard!”

Molly spotted the bucket on her way out and flung it at Hunter’s head with all her might. He deflected it. He did not appear upset or angry that she’d thrown it. He just looked at her like she was nothing—nothing at all.

She had almost reached the front doorknob when Scout swung the door wide open from the opposite side, shocking her as a blast of cold air entered the house.

“Hey, how’s the love life, Molly?”

Molly rushed past him before he could see her cry. She ran all the way back in Hunter’s wool socks to her apartment above her sewing shop, with frozen tears against her face.

SEVENTEEN

Hunter

Scout leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. “Okay, do you want to tell me what the hell just happened? And why are all the cushions off the couch? You didn’t just pull a wheelie on my couch, did you?”

Hunter rubbed the palms of his hands into his tired eyes. He swayed with exhaustion and tried to steady himself before his body crashed to the floor. Between no sleep, hauling buckets of water and the emotional ride of his breakup with Molly, he figured there was no chance this day would get any better.

“I just broke up with her.”

“What happened to my couch?” Scout moved forward and inspected the wet stains with a closer, critical eye. “I love my couch, you know.”

“Our sofa is fine. Molly dumped a bucket of water on me while I was sleeping.” Hunter ran a hand through his hair. It still felt damp. Scout glared at him.

“You didn’t hit her, did you?”

“It took everything I had not to.” Hunter slipped into his boots and tied the laces. The empty feeling in his stomach might be hunger, but that didn’t explain the hollow feeling in his chest. “Have you eaten lunch yet?”

“That’s why I came back to get you. I guess you haven’t heard about the visitors.”

Hunter looked up from his boots and squinted. “What visitors? Where are they?”

“Last I heard they were at Brittany’s. They say they drove here from Iowa. I think we need to take a ride around in case they got more people hiding out.”

“Let’s grab something to eat first and see what they look like. We can clue Jimmy in so he doesn’t freak out after we’re gone.”

“Very responsible of you.”

“Don’t start.”

Scout smiled. “What? Jimmy will appreciate your checking in before running off.”

“Why do you have to be like that?”

“It’s a gift. Grab your coat, its cold out.”

“Wonderful.” Hunter ran his arms through the heavy sleeves of his leather jacket and followed after Scout.

• • •

Down on Main Street, Brittany’s crackled like a madhouse on lockdown. The lunchtime crowd barely touched the food on their plates. They were preoccupied with sneaking peeks and chatting with each other about the new arrivals. From across the room, Hunter spotted the visitors sitting with his brother and began mentally labeling them.

The girl was the sparkle, used to distract anyone with half a penis, which meant every boy over the age of eleven in this crowd. The color of her hair reminded Hunter of autumn leaves. She wore her shirt one size too small; the tightness accentuated her natural appeal. Unfortunately, she was probably having a hard time distracting her current group because Mark was basically married, and Hunter didn’t know what his brother was —but Jimmy never got distracted.

The redheaded kid was the muscle and more than likely, dumb as a post. One long furry eyebrow stretched above his dull, pale eyes and across his pronounced forehead like Frankenstein. He sat with his arms bowed-out, trying to look—or feel—big and intimidating. Hunter smiled; one swift kick to the knee would leave “Muscles” rolling helplessly on the ground.

That left the third kid that should have stayed home and taken medicine and vast quantities of vitamin C and chicken noodle soup. The walking infection was obviously the brains. His hair was dark, and his eyes were like thunderclouds that appeared to take in everything at once, including Hunter and Scout as they approached the table through the bedlam.

Hunter noticed the brains catch the redheaded kid’s attention. Muscles actually tried to bow-out more by the time Hunter and Scout reached them.

Scout circled the table to Vanessa where she sat holding hands with Mark, and kissed his sister on the cheek. Hunter stopped beside Jimmy’s chair. Mark glanced up at him with a momentary flash of disgust in his eyes; then he shook his head and looked away.

“Guys,” Jimmy said. “This is my brother, Michael, and Vanessa’s brother, David.”

Hunter understood. Jimmy had the playbook open and nicknames were not being used to set up the offense.

“Chase, Patrick and Kessie just arrived from Iowa.”

Hunter smiled like a buffoon. “Really? Wow, Iowa. How far away is that?”

Chase returned a more sophisticated smile, one side of his mouth turning up higher than the other, as if to say, ‘I know I’m smarter than you.’

“It’s around five-hundred miles away. I didn’t check the odometer when we arrived, but our truck runs about twenty to the gallon. We filled up at a giant truck-stop before we turned south about two hours from here.”

Hunter scratched his head. “Yeah, we’ve gassed up there a couple times when we’ve gone out salvaging. I can’t believe the number of truckers that died sitting in their cabs.”

“I know. I bet it was tough for them to die on the road away from their families, all alone like that.”

Hunter didn’t understand why Chase’s smile grew wider, exposing perfect white teeth. The guy was certainly at the top of the weird and creepy list.

“What’re you guys doing this afternoon?” Jimmy asked.