Sudden Independents

Hunter welcomed the warmth on his back from the rising sun as he led Jimmy, Molly, and Ginger to their new hideout. Tall shadows stretched before them in the crisp morning air, the ground sparkling white from the overnight frost. Hampered by his backpack and sleeping bag, Hunter also shouldered Scout’s stuff while Jimmy hauled Raven’s gear.

“That selfish little f*cking shithead,” Jimmy muttered.

Hunter listened for five-blocks as every four-letter word imaginable and compounded spilled from Jimmy like acid on the pavement. Jimmy must have stored up for a big meltdown, and Scout had pushed the red button.

They turned up an alley, passed empty backyards, and entered through a gate to a beige two-story house; Hunter discovered the vacant house a couple days before when he was looking for a back-up hideout, just in case.

Hunter threw Scout’s stuff into a corner of the kitchen as he entered the back door. “What do you want me to do now?”

“Go meet Patrick for breakfast,” Jimmy said.

“What about Scout?” Molly asked.

“What about him?”

Molly frowned. “Shouldn’t we go after him or something?”

Jimmy rubbed the back of his neck. “We don’t even know where to start looking. Only he knew where they were holding Raven, and possibly Catherine. Now we have only one option left, and that’s Hunter meeting with Patrick.”

“Vanessa’s not going to like this,” Molly said.

“Vanessa’s not here!” Jimmy’s hands shook. He shoved them into his pockets and took a deep breath. “And she’d be the first one to punch her little brother if she were.”

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Hunter said, squeezing Jimmy’s shoulder on his way out.

“Hunter, wait.” Jimmy caught up with him in the backyard, his face tight and strained.

“I need to hurry,” Hunter reminded him.

“I know.” Jimmy’s eyelids fluttered. “Take care of yourself. Don’t do anything risky, all right? If things start going wrong, run back here and we’ll go home.”

Hunter rubbed the pokey stubble on his head. “Go wrong? You mean like now?”

Tears glistened behind the worry in Jimmy’s eyes. “I’m scared, Hunter.” A single tear slid down his cheek.

“I know. I found her before when I wasn’t even looking for her. I’ll find her again, I promise. We’ll have her by tonight.” Hunter held out his hand and Jimmy gripped it firmly. They quickly hugged and patted each other on the back.

Molly lined up behind Jimmy and hugged Hunter as well. She felt warm and soft. Hunter kissed her head and turned to leave. He hustled out of the yard and through the gate, leaving the two people he loved most in the world before things got more emotional.

• • •

Hunter ran along the broken sidewalks, reached a knot of kids casually walking in the same direction, and jumped off the curb to pass them.

“Hey, what’s the rush?” a boy asked.

“I’m supposed to meet Patrick at breakfast,” Hunter said over his shoulder. “And I’m running late.”

A gasp rose from the kids. “You better hurry,” the boy said.

Hunter picked up the pace and arrived at the cafeteria just as the doors were opening. All the early birds pushed their way inside, but Patrick was not among them. With time to spare, Hunter slowed his way to the entrance and stood at the back of the crowd.

Inside, he gave his last casino chip to the dirty-faced girl on the stool. Her angry stares from the night before were now sleepy and bored.

After receiving his plate of runny eggs and slightly rotted fruit, Hunter found a table to himself. The eggs tasted a lot better compared to the food he’d eaten last night, and he was surprised this city managed to keep enough chickens around to have eggs. He finished breakfast and waited.

Kids filtered in and out over the next hour. Hunter eavesdropped on a dozen conversations ranging from the quality of sleep, food, and life in general. Several kids contemplated leaving for the California coast now that it was almost springtime. They discussed the possibility of crossing the Rockies and finding Disneyland or even catching some waves in the ocean. A small boy asked what an ocean was and the group broke out in laughter.

“Well, what is it?” he asked again and wiped an indignant hand across his face, spreading a strand of snot over his cheek in the process.

Everyone at the table continued laughing as they gathered their trays and disposed of their trash. They handed their dirty plates over the counter to a thankless dishwasher and left to start their day. The little boy gazed at their backs with sad, hurtful eyes. Then he acknowledged Hunter’s staring interest by smearing snot across the other cheek.

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.”





After 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.

Kids aren’t supposed to die before they reach adulthood. They should be given the opportunity to live a full and satisfied life. They’re supposed to be given the chance to grow up, make mistakes and accomplish enough to leave an imprint of themselves on somebody else at least, if not a legacy for the world to view in awe.

Jimmy felt like he’d spent the past six years waiting to die. “What else could I do?” he asked, shuddering at the sound of his distraught voice in this couple’s tomb.

He spotted a grayed piece of paper on the nightstand next to the man, stared at it for a moment, then unfolded and read the note:

Dear Friend,

I hope life is treating you well. This sickness took my Jane from me early this morning and I feel it coursing through me now.

I enjoyed my 64 years. I grew up, I fought in a war serving my country and lived, I married the girl of my dreams, and together we had a baby boy who followed in my footsteps until he created his own.

What footprints have you left behind? I hope you get the chance to leave some. No matter how much time is before you, treat each moment as a chance to help others and love those around you. Then in the end, you will know it was time well spent.

If our remains are still here when you arrive, all I ask is that you bury me with my Jane. We’ve been together until the end and my only wish is that we never part.

Best Regards,

Jonathan

Jimmy placed the note between the couple and made his way to the door. In the hallway, he met Ginger in all her beautiful dustiness.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

Jimmy realized he was crying. He kissed her dirty cheek. “I have to find a shovel.”





Two boys circled the house where Raven was being held captive. Scout crouched behind a rock wall, deciding what to do next as precious seconds passed. The house was perched on a hilltop, with spectacular views all around. A jagged horizon of mountains lay to the west, blanketed in white snow that looked forbidding and insurmountable. Skyscrapers to the south towered above Denver as grim reminders of the lost world. Fields and mostly barren farmland spread out far to the north. East, across a golf course and the same shallow Platte River that winds through Nebraska, was the settlement where Raven had led them to start their search for Catherine.

Given the views, many large-pane windows surrounded the house and huge stones and dark timbers covered the rest of the exterior for that mountain-home look. Evergreens and gray boulders landscaped the hillside and provided concealing cover for Scout’s approach. The house appeared like a grand castle, without the moat to swim or wall to scale. Luckily for Scout, he only needed to slip past two sleepy teenagers.

The boys on patrol passed each other and turned their respective corners again. Scout ran thirty yards uphill before crouching behind a boulder. His legs burned from the short climb and his vision blurred from the thin Colorado air. He heard the boys returning by the shuffle of their feet. Then the footsteps stopped, and Scout held his breath in fear of discovery.

“This sucks,” one said in a stifled yawn. “Nobody’s stupid enough to come out here. I should be in bed dreaming.”

“I know,” said the other in a gravelly voice. He coughed his throat clear. “Great, I think I’m getting sick. How long have we been out here?”

“I don’t know. I was sound asleep when that jackass came in and stuck his big, stinking boot in my face.”

“Are you crazy? Patrick will beat you to death if he hears you calling him that. We’d better keep moving. If you see anyone, tell them we need a break.”

“Cool. See you in the front.”

The shuffling continued in both directions. Scout peeked over the boulder as the boys rounded the house. The backdoor was ten yards and a flight of steps to the wooden deck. He scurried up the steps and his feet rang hollow thuds moving across the deck planks. He pulled on the sliding glass door that didn’t budge and jiggled the handle with rising panic, having placed all his plans on getting through the backdoor. He pressed against the glass in a vain attempt to pry the door open. Shuffling sounds announced the returning patrol.

Scout froze on the deck with his back against the locked door, unable to run or drop for cover as the first boy rounded into sight. Scout’s one chance to save Raven was about to blow up in his face. He prayed for a miracle without any real hope for an answer.

Sunshine broke apart the low hanging clouds and found Scout like a searchlight during a prison break. Every nerve in his body contracted into a tight knot. He held his breath again. The heat of the sun warmed his skin; sweat slid down his neck onto the collar of his jacket that he now wished he’d left behind. The boys on patrol would see him standing there any second.

Scout closed his eyes in defeat.

“Would you look at that,” one boy said. “Now that right there is worth getting up early. The last time I saw the sunrise was with my mom.”

The other one coughed until his face turned red. “Great. Maybe it’ll warm up a little.” He kept on his route and disappeared.

His counterpart continued watching the sun for a moment. Each passing second drove Scout into a silent madness of urgency. His mind was flooded with horrible images of the torments being done to Raven inside this house. She needed him now and this kid was taking in the sunrise. Maybe he could jump him and roll the sick one when he came back around.

“I miss you, Mama.” The boy wiped his tears and moved on.

Scout scooted along the deck, pushing every window he could reach. The third one slid open and he hurried through, closing it behind him.

A musty odor emanated from the heavy drapes pressing in on him. He sidestepped for a glance at the edge. The curtains did their job, making it too dark to see much in the spacious room beyond. He slipped out of the folds and his eyes began to distinguished shapes. Beneath his feet was a tile floor with area rugs laid out ahead. Several couches were placed sporadically on one side of the room and a long table occupied the other. A stone fireplace split the middle where smoky embers puffed a sullen orange in the hearth.

A gentle snore rose from one of the couches and Scout noticed the lumpy form of someone lying there. A flight of stairs to the second floor climbed the wall to his left. Scout circled right, keeping his back to the draped windows, for a better feel of the downstairs layout.

He crept closer to the twelve chairs evenly spaced around the table, passing a china cabinet that contained a full set of unbroken dishes. Scout continued to the double doors at the far end where light fanned out underneath. He paused, listening for sounds of life on the other side. He heard none and pushed the swinging door inward, walking though fast and easing the door shut behind him. He glanced around and blew a sigh of relief when he found himself alone in a huge kitchen. A gallon jug of water sat on the countertop; he sniffed the contents before deciding it safe to drink.

An engine rumbled from behind the door to the garage as it pulled inside. Scout searched for a quick hiding place and found the door to the basement. Voices grew louder as they headed towards Scout’s position and someone on the other side rattled the doorknob. Scout took three steps down on the stairs and closed the door.

“I don’t really care about how tired you are,” a guy said, entering the kitchen. “That’s your one job. Don’t mess it up. I’ll find someone else to circle the house when I’ve got time. Now get out there and keep your eyes open.”

Scout recognized the cough of the sick kid from outside. He looked downstairs and saw nothing but a black void. His mind wrestled over his next move. Going into the unknown darkness didn’t sound appealing, but right now his options were dwindling.

“All right, Patrick,” the other kid said over his partner’s hacking. “Could we at least have some water?”

“Here, you can take this.” The water jug slid over the countertop. “Get out of my sight. I have to talk to Chase.”

“What do you have to talk to him about?”

“It doesn’t concern you. Now get the hell outside and don’t let anyone near the house!”

The kids on patrol slammed the door on their way out. Scout clenched his fist and contemplated the odds of taking Patrick alone. He didn’t know if that course of action would be possible without waking the whole house, but then the choice was made for him when the door swung open and a giant boot stepped on him.

“What the hell?” Patrick said.

With desperation lending him strength, Scout grabbed Patrick’s leg and yanked hard, hurling the big kid past him. Patrick’s head bounced off the stairs all the way down, vanishing as he fell to the bottom. Scout leaned against the wall, breathing hard in the silent aftermath. He stared into the darkness for any movement that might precede Patrick rushing back upstairs and dragging him below.

His imagination scared him to death, but the need to hurry and find Raven rallied enough of his courage to take the next step. Patrick was probably going downstairs to talk to Chase. More than likely, Raven was down there, too. Scout flipped open his shiny Zippo and used the flame to light his way.

He found Patrick sprawled out at the bottom of the stairs. Blood splattered the last couple of steps. Scout hopped over him to the carpeted floor and looked around. He shined his flame in every corner of the large room, lighting a couple candles next to unoccupied couches and assuring himself that he was alone. A stretch of hallway lay opposite the stairs, but Scout wasn’t prepared to go exploring just yet.

He tapped his shoe against Patrick’s boot and gained no response from the unconscious giant. Scout placed a lit candle on the bottom step and found a pulse thrumming slowly in Patrick’s wrist. At least Scout hadn’t killed him. He removed twine from his small backpack, and bound Patrick hand and foot. When he rolled him over he found a nasty gash on the back of Patrick’s head and blood seeping into the carpet. Using a clean bandage from his pack, Scout wrapped gauze tightly around the wounded head to stop the bleeding. Finally, he gripped Patrick’s arms and dragged him out of sight behind a couch. As an afterthought, Scout patted down the big kid’s pockets and took a set of car keys.

There was nothing to be done about the blood on the steps and the carpet. Scout brought a candle, shielded with his hand, and walked halfway down the hallway before reaching a pair of doors on opposite sides. One might lead to Raven. Another probably led to the lion’s den.

The door on his right was locked when he tried the knob, but the other on his left pushed open and he peeked inside. Sunlight cascaded down a steel window-well into the empty room. Scout left the door ajar for the added light and proceeded to the end of the hallway.

He entered another large room and lit more candles. Several loaded bookshelves lined the wall to the left. To his right, tall racks contained dusty wine bottles with their corks still intact.

Straight ahead, two doors were spaced ten feet apart, barred with two-by-fours. Scout grew excited, guessing that inside each room he’d find his girlfriend and the little girl. He chose the left first and lifted the board out of its braces. The door swung wide on silent hinges.

“Finally,” Catherine said from inside pitch-blackness.

Scout moved forward filling the big closet with candlelight. Startled by an unbelievable sight, the candle slipped from his hand, bounced off the floor and the flame winked out.

“Well that’s not very helpful,” Catherine said.

Scout flicked his Zippo and relit the wick. He stared at Catherine with her arms and legs tied to a large wagon wheel propped against the wall.

She waved her tiny fingers at him. “Please untie me. I really don’t want to roll out of here on my own.”

Scout placed the candle on the floor. He unsheathed his ankle knife and quickly sliced the little girl’s bonds. “Why did they tie you up like this? Did they torture you?”

“Hardly, I’m always getting tied to those things.” She wrapped her arms around Scout in a crushing hug. “I knew it would be you.”

For someone who had been living like a mushroom, Catherine still looked and smelled like sunshine He brushed back her blonde hair and kissed her forehead.

“We have to find Raven before the house wakes up.”

“Someone’s got a girlfriend. I’m jealous.”

Scout offered her a small grin. “She must be behind this other door.” He reached for the bar, but Catherine pushed his arm aside.

“Nice try, hotshot,” she said to the door. “Did you really think you had a fifty-fifty chance of getting him to open your door? I’ve been drawing him here ever since I felt his presence outside.”

Heavy thudding shook the bar in its braces. “Your little group won’t leave town alive!”

Catherine grabbed Scout’s hand and tugged. “Let’s go. Chase will eventually breakthrough and come after us.”

Scout asked, “Is he really some kind of demon?”

“Not exactly,” Catherine answered. “Demons have pointy ears and teeth.”

Scout stared in confusion and shook his head. “We need to find Raven, fast.”

Twisted laughter echoed from behind the door.

Catherine frowned and said, “Follow me.”

She led Scout back down to the middle of the hallway and the locked door. Catherine gripped and turned the doorknob, snapping the locking mechanism. She pushed the door inside and Scout moved past her, lighting the way with his candle.

Raven covered her head and screamed, cowering in the corner of another empty room. Scout approached her speaking gently, but her screaming only grew louder and more desperate. Catherine knelt next to her and with one touch to the head, Raven’s frantic cries stalled. After another moment, the girl’s eyes closed, her faced relaxed and she slumped over to the floor.

Catherine said, “You’ll have to carry her.”

Scout scooped Raven up and held her close. He followed Catherine to the stairs, through the kitchen and out to the garage where a black Cadillac Escalade was parked. The bright sunshine washing over the driveway was a welcomed sight.

Scout opened the backdoor of the Escalade. “Climb in before someone spots us,” he told Catherine

Scout lifted Raven’s unconscious body into the backseat and rested her head on Catherine’s lap. He crawled up behind the steering wheel, using the keys he took from Patrick, he cranked the engine over and sped past the two wide-eyed teenagers circling around the side of the house.





“Are you sure it’s safe to be outside?” Molly asked. She wasn’t exactly thrilled, and a little grossed out, when Jimmy explained what they were about to do.

“No, but I’m sick of being indoors.” Jimmy said. He tested the ground in the backyard with a shovel. “Frozen solid. This isn’t going to be easy.” Jimmy spit into his hands and rubbed them together. He pulled his hat down tight and a giant smile stretched across his face. He drove his foot down hard on the shovel and broke ground.

Molly followed Ginger to the second floor and checked out what it was they were supposed to do. In silence, they viewed the pictures on the dresser and the decomposing couple lying in their bed. They read the note and they cried and they hugged each other.

Carefully they bundled the couple into their blankets and secured them together with rope that Ginger had found. They carried the couple downstairs.

Jimmy tossed the shovel out of the grave he had just completed. He smiled at them before running his sweaty arm across his face, leaving a streak of mud on his cheek.

“It’s not quite six feet, but it’ll do,” he said. “You guys did a nice job wrapping them up like that. I think Jonathan would be pleased.”

Molly exchanged smiles with Ginger. For such a grizzly task, Jimmy’s compliment left Molly satisfied about what they were doing for Jonathan and his Jane.

The sun heated the day from straight overhead, making the world bright. Molly found it odd that she felt happy when everything else going on around them was out of control, and for some strange reason that was okay. She peeled off her sweater, leaving behind her white T-shirt; the day having grown too hot for layers. She enjoyed the warm sun on her skin again. This winter had been the longest one ever, even longer than the winter when everyone died.

“I have an idea,” Ginger said, and ran back inside the house.

Jimmy settled the remains gently into the bottom of the hole, and then reached up so Molly could help him climb out. He grabbed the shovel and began burying the couple together in their grave.

Ginger walked out with her arms full of boards, a hammer, a screwdriver, and a can of paint. She set everything on the wooden deck.

“Can I help?” Molly asked.

Ginger handed her the small can of paint. “Shake that up.”

Molly shook the paint as though it were a birthday present. “Wasn’t that the sign hanging over the bed in the guestroom?”

“Yep,” Ginger said, sawing a board at one end.

Molly watched amazed at how confident Ginger handled the tools. The other girl was always trying something new and that’s what made her so good at everything. Molly wasn’t jealous over Ginger’s many talents any longer, she just felt inspired. Ginger finished sawing off two corners so now the four-foot board had a pointy end.

Molly switched hands and continued shaking. The sound of Jimmy shoveling added a nice steady rhythm. Scoop-plop-scoop-plop-scoop-plop. That and the gentle swooshing of her paint can maraca reminded Molly of “The Little Mermaid” they had watched last month on “Generator Movie Night.” Now all they needed were some singing fish.

Ginger hammered a nail through the sign, attaching it to the board. She pounded in a couple more for a sturdier connection.

“Okay. Now it’s your turn.”

A thrill raced through Molly. “What do I get to do?”

Ginger produced a paintbrush from her back pocket. “You get to paint.”

Molly pried the lid up with the screwdriver. A thick, navy soup waited inside. She dipped the narrow bristles into the can and allowed the excess to drip off.

“What do I paint?”

“Just change that one word to read ‘From,’” Ginger said.

Molly smiled with understanding. She made the changes with careful brush strokes and then sat back, happy with her work.

“Perfect,” Ginger said. “Now we wait a minute and let the sunshine do its job.”

Jimmy scooped on the last load of dirt and started smoothing out the mound with the back of the shovel. When he finished, he leaned the shovel against a tall tree whose limbs were speckled with green buds and grabbed his water bottle. He took a long drink, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Then he washed the dirt off his hands and face. When he looked up and caught Molly staring, he gave her a little wink. Her cheeks flared with warmth and she tried to think of other things—like Hunter. It wasn’t too difficult.

“Are we ready?” Jimmy asked.

Ginger handed the grave marker to Molly. “You do the honors.”

Molly carried the cross to the head of the burial mound. She pushed down on top, sliding the pointy end into the turned earth.

Jimmy read, “From Our Guest, A Place to Rest.”

“You should keep this.” Ginger handed Jimmy the note that Jonathon had written.

He nodded, read the note aloud for them to share one last time, and pocketed it. “I’m thankful for my time well spent,” Jimmy said.

Ginger followed. “I’m thankful we found this house so we could bury Jonathan and Jane together the way he wanted.”

Molly knew what she was thankful for right away. The old Molly would probably laugh and say she was being a stupid bitch. “I’m thankful for my friends,” Molly said. The old Molly never knew what it meant to have friends, because she never took the time to be one.

Ginger wrapped her soft arms around Molly in a tight embrace. Jimmy joined them and kissed Molly’s forehead.

He said, “Not just friends, Molly…”

“…We’re family now,” Ginger finished.

Molly found it funny, discovering true joy at the foot of a grave. Finally, she felt complete. This was the perfect moment.

“They’re over here. This way,” Catherine’s voice floated over the fence.

“How do you know?” They heard Scout call. He sounded tired and strained.

Catherine opened the gate from the alley and led Scout into the backyard. He carried Raven’s unconscious body in his arms and a large amount of worry in his eyes.

“Because, silly, my friend told me so,” Catherine said.

She headed straight for the tree and hugged the trunk. All the thousands of buds dotting every limb, branch, and twig suddenly unraveled and expanded into a brilliant green canopy that spread its comforting shade over the silent grave. Everyone gasped in shock and awe as Catherine appeared to be listening to something the rest of them were unable to hear.

“Oh, wasn’t that nice,” she said.

“What?” Jimmy asked with stunned eyes.

“He told me what you did for the Fletchers. He really liked them. Mr. Fletcher and his son planted him here when he was just a little sapling and helped him grow big and strong.” Catherine smiled at the backyard assembly and opened her arms wide. “So, who wants firsts?”

Ginger ran and dropped to her knees and the contest for who could squeeze the hardest began. Molly placed her wages on the little girl. Jimmy stood next in line. Molly helped Scout with Raven, knowing she would get her chance with Catherine in a bit. She was still unsure of how she would greet the little miracle worker.

Scout nodded to Molly as they moved toward the house. “I don’t know what Chase did to her. She was hysterical when we found her. Catherine used her powers and calmed her down, but who knows if that will last.”

Molly frowned. Catherine used her power whenever the little girl saw fit, but Molly guessed she was a better choice if Chase was the other alternative. Images of the possible things Raven suffered through sent shivers racing through Molly’s arms and legs. She half considered putting her sweater back on and staying in the sunshine.

Jimmy came up behind them. “Let’s get her inside. Can I help carry her?”

Scout said, “No, I got her.”

Molly knew Scout was fading fast the way his legs wobbled climbing the three steps to the deck. She held the backdoor as he negotiated Raven through the narrow opening.

Jimmy followed. “Scout, I’m sorry if my delaying you caused this to happen to Raven. Thank you for finding Catherine.”

Scout hurried through the house and laid his sleeping girlfriend on the red couch. “Don’t sweat it. I’m sorry I ran out like I did. I either got really lucky or someone up there gave me a big hand. I was crazy to go alone.”

“Love makes us do funny things,” Jimmy said.

Scout caressed Raven’s brow. “Was that a song?”

“Who knows?”

Molly stood behind them, watching Raven’s chest rise and fall in her sleep. When a little hand slipped into hers, she looked down into eyes of blue sky. Catherine guided her back into the kitchen.

“Are you mad at me for what I did to you?” the little girl asked.

“No, I guess not. Thinking back on it, I’m angry mostly with myself. But it was like I was trapped inside someone I didn’t want to be and couldn’t find my way out.”

Catherine nodded. “I was in a position where there was little choice. I guess I left you with little choice as well. I’m sorry. If I had done nothing to help you, then you would be stuck with Chase—and probably worse off than that poor girl.”

“What happened to her?”

“Chase happened, only this time she saw how truly evil he is because she had time away from his power and influence.”

“He’s like how I used to be, right?”

Catherine reached up and brushed Molly’s cheek. “You were never like him.”

Molly knelt down and opened her arms. Catherine walked into them, tenderly wrapping her little embrace around Molly. Molly smiled as Catherine’s warmth seeped into her, giving her courage and strength and hope.

“It’s okay, Raven,” Scout said from the front room. “You’re safe.”

Catherine and Molly rejoined the others. Raven sat up with a nervous flicker in her eyes, scanning the faces in the room. “Is he here? Where is he?”

“He’s not here,” Scout said. “You’re safe. He’ll never hurt you again, I promise.”

Raven’s forehead knotted, then her eyes cleared and she shook her head. “I’m not talking about Chase—Hunter. Is Hunter here?”

“No,” Jimmy said.

Raven looked up at him. “I’m sorry. I held out as long as I could.”

Molly’s breath caught in her chest and the shivering returned. She was suddenly very afraid for Hunter.

“I told Chase that Hunter was meeting Patrick for breakfast.”