Scout glared at the horizon, noting a possible source to refill his water and then looked back at Hunter. “Where did you find her?”
“Under a tree, ten miles back. She’s not answering any of my questions, but you can give it a shot. God knows I tried.”
“You should know by now, God doesn’t care anymore,” Scout said. “He stopped listening to me six years ago.”
Hunter frowned and narrowed his eyes. Scout looked away and shifted his attention back to Catherine. “So who’s been taking care of you?”
“My tree, silly. She’s a wonderful tree. Right, Hunter?”
“Yeah, wonderful.”
“Am I missing something here? What’s the joke?”
“No joke, Scouty. Big tree, little girl.”
Scout considered the blonde girl again. Her blue eyes shimmered, reflecting the late-afternoon sunshine. She was holding something back, but he didn’t want to waste any more time with his sister about to go into labor. If they left now there probably was enough daylight to make it home.
“So that’s it, Catherine? The tree took care of you.”
“Uh huh, that’s it,” she said, nodding.
“All right then, we better get going.”
“Did Vanessa have her baby, yet?” Hunter asked, lifting Catherine up behind him.
“Not before I left, but she could be having it right now. That’s why I’m pissed I had to come all the way out her to find you.”
Hunter revved up his engine with an unnerving whine that pierced Scout’s brain. “Race you back!” he yelled, and popped the clutch, releasing a rooster tail of flying debris. He let loose of the front brake and leaned over the handlebars as his bike sped up like a bull chasing red.
“Idiot,” Scout said, springing onto his motorbike.
Their small engines cried across the prairie, riding past dilapidated farmhouses surrounded by overgrown windbreaks. Scout hung twenty yards behind Hunter, who pushed the limit with a passenger, as the airstream whipped through Catherine’s golden hair.
An hour slipped away and the sun began fading into the west. Hunter’s speed and the fleeting light made choosing a safe path impossible. Even with the little headlights mounted on the motorbikes, the high grass and the meager washed-out trail were too extreme to travel this fast. Both were capable riders, but Scout was nervous about Hunter’s recklessness.
Scout tried catching up to tell Hunter to slow down, but the fool took it as a challenge and twisted his throttle harder. Hoping Hunter would ease up, Scout dropped back a hundred yards without any success. Hunter pushed his speed for over an hour as they closed within thirty miles of their destination.
Without thinking about it, Scout sent out a prayer. “Please Lord, let Hunter be safe. Don’t let anything happen to him or the little girl. Please, please make him slow down.”
He waited. A gleaming red light quickly washed over Scout in sudden brilliance. The light sailed off the ground and winked out. Catherine catapulted over Hunter. Her arc was incredibly high and the distance was even more stunning as she flew upwards and then plummeted on her return, disappearing in the darkness and tall grass. Hunter followed her over his handlebars, straight out like a human cannonball. The motorbike flipped after them, and Scout feared that the blunt impact of the wreckage would do more damage than their falls.
Scout’s stomach pitched from witnessing the devastation ahead. Every nerve in his body shrieked, leaving his arms and legs rigid. He almost buried his front wheel in the same depression that chucked Hunter and the little girl. He stopped his motorbike before he lost all control, and cut the engine. Vaulting off the seat, Scout allowed his bike to fall over and sprinted into the swirling cloud of dust.
Molly 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.”