Sudden Independents (4 page)

M
olly was bored. Outside her open window, where the summer breeze did little but shove the heat around, the city maintenance kids gathered around yet another pothole. Holes in roads happened frequently in Independents, and they were never repaired properly. How many slack-jawed kids would it take to fill a hole? Looked like about four.

She couldn’t believe she was trapped in the middle of downtown Independents for the rest of her life. Calling the place downtown was a joke. One block of two-story buildings, that’s about as urban as it got. Who could’ve lived here before the plague performed a mercy killing?

Molly was born in Dallas. Now
that
was a city. In the world that was, she’d be hitting her prime, starting her junior year of high school. Molly would be dating the captain of the football team, or the cutest guy in school. She’d definitely be dating someone with a really hot car.

The whole plague thing was so unfair. She hated that she would never attend a senior prom. She would have worn a beautiful, full-length evening gown that her daddy bought her from Nieman Marcus; low in the back and cut from chiffon or possibly silk. She’d have chosen teal blue to set off her eyes. If only she had grabbed her mother’s pearls before her twin brother made her leave home.

When the plague took her parents, Mark forced her into their mom’s Lincoln Navigator. He tied a wooden block under his shoe because he was too short to reach the pedals, and it was goodbye, Texas. The roads were horrible because of all the dead people in their wrecked cars strewn about everywhere. Going around the thousands of traffic jams was a huge inconvenience and did nothing but make a miserable trip worse. They drove up into Oklahoma and Molly begged Mark to drive faster. That place was so flat and ugly. She didn’t realize the further north they traveled the landscape became even more desolate. Eventually they joined up with a group of kids heading in their direction. That’s how they stumbled across the little refugee camp of Independents. Landing here was the worst possible thing that ever happened to her.

Molly was now the head seamstress, responsible for clothing the town. Being responsible for something was nice and all, but she’d rather be pampered. They mended worn out rags at the sewing shop and rarely sewed anything new. Well, Ginger did most of the sewing. Somebody had to manage the help.

“Molly, I’m all done cleaning up,” Ginger called from the back of the shop. “Shouldn’t we head over to dinner?”

Molly and Ginger were the same age, but officially, Molly was the boss. She always gave Ginger plenty of work to keep her out of the way.

“Just hold on. I’ll be ready in a minute.”

Ginger drifted past the doorway of Molly’s office. Molly upheld a strict policy: No one was allowed to enter her personal space where she kept her private stuff. She would truly be lost without all the makeup and trinkets that Hunter brought her. She refused to permit Ginger—or anyone—touching her things and leaving a mess. And for some reason, Ginger would always track in dirt from God knows where.

Molly capped her red lipstick and checked the corners of her mouth. Perfect. He had better notice her tonight. She brushed her hair one more time before leaving her office.

Ginger waited by her sewing station, wearing the yellow blouse she designed. It was simple and plain, Molly thought, and she knew all the girls asked Ginger to make one in their favorite colors. It wasn’t really Molly’s style. She liked her clothes tighter, but then she was gifted with a sleeker build than Ginger and the rest of them. If Ginger had any guts, she’d lower the neckline and expose some of her better qualities, but of course she was Ginger. Gentle, little Ginger with a breast size Molly would never acquire without serious rediscoveries in plastic surgery. All the good it did Ginger, covered up by that blouse.

Molly thought some boys might find Ginger attractive, even with the dirt, but she would never be Molly’s equal. Molly was the princess in this town, and she was determined to capture the king so she could be crowned the queen.

Molly noticed the muddy stains on Ginger’s knees. “Did you sweep up that dirt?”

“Yes, I got it all cleaned up. Sorry about that.”

Molly walked past her toward the front door, and Ginger followed. “Why are you always so dirty? Where did you go this afternoon? You were gone for over an hour.”

“I ran some errands. That’s why I came in early. I got all my work done. Plus, the Jenson sisters are coming along great with their training. I think they’re going to be exceptional seamstresses. Lisa is a natural.”

“Yes, yes, okay already,” Molly broke in because if you didn’t cut Ginger off, her mouth really motored on. “You don’t have to tell me everything. I’m just glad they’re working here. You’re so slow sometimes, and then all your errands every day. It’s like you’re never here when I need serious work done. If we don’t repair and hem these clothes, everyone will be going around naked. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Ginger lowered her head and wiped her eyes that glistened with tears. She was so weak. Molly tried her best to toughen her up, but really, how was Ginger going to survive in today’s world?

“I’m sorry, Molly. I’ll work harder, I promise.”

“Are you crying?”

Ginger turned away and walked back to her station.

Molly smiled. Ginger would learn. Life wasn’t roses and chocolates anymore. They all needed to make sacrifices, like the one Molly was forced to make when Mark moved out to live with Vanessa. What a tramp she turned out to be. And now she was about to have a baby!

Ginger blew her nose, making an awful sound like a dying elephant. Molly decided to ease up on torturing her for the day. Bossing people was simple when they were on their toes. Usually, Ginger was ready to pirouette.

“Look, Ginger, I’m sorry,” Molly lied. “I’m just nervous about Mark and the baby. I shouldn’t take it out on you.”

“I understand,” Ginger said, still sniffling. “Having the baby could be dangerous for Vanessa, but it’s so exciting, isn’t it? Mark and Vanessa are creating a future, right here, right now. We’re saved!”

Molly frowned. “Okay, drama girl, settle down. It’s just a baby.”

“Oh, it’s more than that. It’s hope.”

Ginger painted everything with a thick coat of sweet emotion that made Molly queasy. Molly needed some fresh air, but then a stack of white material and lace next to Ginger’s overgrown flower pot caught her attention.

“What’s this?” Molly unfolded the cutest little baby outfit in the whole wide world.

“It’s something I designed for Vanessa and the baby.”

Molly glared. “You’re kidding. I thought it was a new hat for Jimmy.” Molly noted the way Ginger blushed at the mention of Jimmy, but there were more pressing matters at hand.

“So you and Vanessa have been working on this?”

“Well, I just wanted to put together a little wardrobe for the baby.”

“But Vanessa and I agreed to wait until the baby was born to see if it was a boy or a girl.” Molly gripped the outfit in a tight fist. “Why would she go behind my back?”

“She didn’t go behind your back. I offered to make a couple newborn outfits because I thought it would be nice for the baby to have something to wear.”

Molly threw the outfit onto the pile and placed her hands on her hips to keep from tearing out a patch of Ginger’s tawny hair. “Where on earth have I been during all this?”

“In your office.”

After Molly pulled out her hair, she would strangle her with it. “You probably knitted the baby a blanket with teddy bears on it.”

Ginger bit down on what was left of a dirty fingernail and looked away.

“You mean you actually did?”

Bending down, Ginger pulled a faded blue milk crate from under her table and lifted out a soft looking, yellow blanket. Then she brought up a fuzzy brown Teddy bear.

“Where on earth did you get that?”

Molly was the aunt. She was the head seamstress. She should have been included. Anger surged into her like something more solid than emotion. The anger carried weight and heat and filled every ounce of her body. Her hands trembled with the strain of keeping the anger inside as she waited for Ginger’s answer.

Ginger scratched the fur on the Teddy bear’s head. “I made it.”

Molly’s knees dipped with the added weight of jealousy. For a second, she fought back tears. Why was Ginger better than her at everything?

From the look in her eyes, Ginger’s evident concern rekindled Molly’s fury. She clawed the bear away, dug her fingers into the seam of the neck and tore off the fuzzy head. White stuffing gushed out the decapitated section of the bear’s body. Molly threw both pieces at Ginger’s shocked, pretty face.

Molly’s lungs tightened with each new breath. Spinning away from Ginger, she stormed through the front door of the shop onto the brick cobbles of Main Street. Distracted, she almost tripped into the unrepaired, gaping pothole. An orange cone marked the hazard, and Molly kicked it a good ten yards down the street.

The stifling heat surrounded her as she prepared to face the dinner crowd. Deep inside, Molly bottled up her rage. This was all Vanessa’s fault. First she’d taken Mark from her. Now she was corrupting the people in her shop. Molly refused to allow anymore of Vanessa’s interference in her life.

H
unter felt the impact and his back tire flipped up, pitching him forward. He reflected on his situation for an instant.

Oh shit
.

He swooped through the air, arms stretched out like Superman on a collision course with the planet. Violent pain accompanied a terrible snap.

Hunter howled over the blaring roar his motorbike made lying on its side, throttle stuck once again, the rear wheel grinding through dirt, making the air thick with dust. His right arm trashed. Drawing in his courage, he looked at the jagged shard of bone jutting out of his skin. Hunter kicked as the sight and the pain all registered at once. Another agonized, rattled howl escaped past his lips. He quickly stifled his screaming when Scout silenced the motorbike.

Hunter couldn’t focus on anything with the light of day totally gone. He tried to sit up, but the pain kept him down. He stopped screaming and settled for squirming on the ground.

Scout slipped past him and vanished like a fox through a patch of fog.

“Where are you going? I’m dying over here!”

His shrieks went unheeded. He waited anxiously for Scout’s return, until he remembered the little girl, Catherine. He wanted to sit up, but failed again. Scout’s surprised voice floated out of the night.

“You’re all right. I don’t believe it. You flew over twenty yards. How can you be all right?”

“That was fun. Can we do it again?”

“Let go. I have to take care of Hunter. Please, you can hug me later, I promise. Catherine, let go!”

Another burst of pain exploded through Hunter’s broken forearm. He gasped, bearing up for Scout, who finally slid down beside him.

“Yeah, you broke it good. I never thought you could be so stupid. What were you thinking?”

Hunter gritted his teeth. “I was trying to get you back home before the baby came.”

Scout searched his backpack. He lit a small candle, shielded from the wind by a tin can with one side hacked off. He gave a low whistle when the light shined over Hunter’s arm.

Hunter looked away.

More rustling in the backpack and Hunter heard pages flipping, which meant only one thing: Scout was consulting The Boy Scout Handbook.

“What are you going to do with that, dig a latrine?”

“Don’t mess with me about my book, Hunter. It’s going to save your sorry butt. Give me a minute to read up on broken bones and then I’ll get you sorted out.”

“Why aren’t you going for help?”

“Because before I could make it halfway home, you’d go into shock and die. Now shut up and lie still.”

Hunter closed his eyes through another tortuous throbbing. The pain progressed in peaks and valleys, although the valleys didn’t descend very low before ramping back up, and the peaks spiked higher and higher.

Catherine stepped into the glowing circle of light with a solemn expression. She knelt beside Hunter and laid her hands on his forehead.