“Have lots of fun in the field, spuds,” Chase said.
Back at their house, Hunter straddled his motorbike with a very full stomach. He seriously considered ramming his finger down his throat so he could puke.
“Chase seemed pretty sharp,” Scout said. “He didn’t believe our farmer story.”
Hunter shared the notion. “Why do you think that?”
“Well, we don’t dress like farmers with my camouflage and your leather jacket. He didn’t buy our act for a second.”
“I know, but what could we do—tell him we’re going to search for the rest of his gang?”
“I just don’t like it, that’s all. He called us spuds.”
About four hours of overcast daylight remained to search for anything out of the ordinary. Hunter zipped up his jacket, wondering if it would offer enough protection against the cold. He revved the bike’s throttle back until the motor idled without choking out. They headed north out of town since that’s the way Chase said he’d come.
They slowed after a couple miles and looked around. The gray sky melted into the flat gray landscape and there weren’t any strangers holding up signs that read, “Here we are.”
“Which way?” Scout asked over the sound of purring engines.
“I’ll take west. I doubt they came from Iowa.”
“We should ride together in case of trouble. Plus, one of us might miss something if we split up.”
“I don’t miss.”
“Whatever. We’ve got to play this smart. The town is depending on us.”
“All right, we both go west. Try not to slow me down.”
“Don’t flip your bike and we won’t need to worry, will we?”
Hunter showed Scout his middle finger and then clicked into first, second and third in rapid succession as he headed west. Scout stayed right on his back fender like they were tied together.
They traveled at a constant speed, not too fast to miss anything but quickly enough to eat up ground, going through every farmstead, woodland or canyon in a five-mile radius around Independents. They figured that if there were others hiding out, Chase would stick them close by for emergencies. Hunter and Scout knew the area’s best hiding spots. Going spot to spot was easy with the land’s relatively flat topography and by late afternoon they were circling to the southeast. The sun finally won a small victory and broke through the clouds bottom edge. It shined on their backs, relieving their chilled bodies from the whip of the open air.
The ride sapped away Hunter’s energy. He rolled to a stop and killed the engine. Scout pulled up next to him and did the same. They got off their motorbikes and Hunter’s legs shook like the world was tilting. He leaned against his bike to keep from sliding to his knees.
“Are you okay?”
Hunter didn’t need Scout’s concern right now. “I’m fine, just a little tired,” he said, wishing he’d come up with a better excuse. He guzzled water and felt sturdier.
“You think they told the truth?” Scout said. He poured water in his hands and washed the grime from his face. Hunter copied him and was refreshed by the cold splash.
“It’s starting to look that way.” Hunter scanned the area and took a calculation of the sun’s position. He stretched out his arms and popped his back and neck before shaking the stiffness out of his legs. “We got about another hour of daylight left. They didn’t come from the west and I was pretty sure they had. South isn’t looking too good, either.”
“Iowa it is then, huh? Well, we can make it to the east side of Independents before sunset and then head back into town. At least we’ll sleep better knowing they didn’t bring an army.”
Hunter reached into his coat sleeve and rubbed the small white scar on his arm. It was the only evidence left that a broken bone had popped through his skin.
“I forgot Catherine. What if they find out about her?”
Scout shook his head. “Your brother sent Samuel over to Ginger’s house when Chase and his crew showed up. They won’t find out about Catherine. Only the town council knows anything about her healing powers. No one’s saying a word. Jimmy will see to that.”
“He better; Catherine might be his only chance.”
“Vanessa’s thinking the same thing. We all are. Catherine’s our only shot if the plague is still hanging around out there waiting.”
They packed their stuff away and started up again. Scout led this time. Hunter trailed, and did his best to keep his mind alert. The break revived him enough for the few miles left ahead.
Fifty minutes later, they began riding down a hill toward a broken gulch just as the sun began a quick fade, forcing the boys to play catch-up with their long shadows. Neither of them expected trouble—until a pickup and three motorbikes roared out of the gulch. Clouds of dust billowed from their spinning tires as the newest batch of visitors circled Scout and Hunter in a tight noose and closed off any chance of escape.
EIGHTEEN
Catherine swung the front door open right before Jimmy knocked. He knelt on the porch and wrapped her in his arms. He didn’t understand why everyone made such a big deal, gasping and wincing when she gave out her hugs. She was always gentle with Jimmy, and her hugs transferred a feeling of warmth he often found puzzling. It reminded him of the way his mother used to hold him. He’d been safe in her arms and her love flowed like a regenerative force that supplied strength. The same effect came in the small embrace of Catherine. When she hugged him, Jimmy knew everything would be all right.
“How are you today, Catherine?”
“Fantastic, now that you’re here. Samuel is such a poop. He won’t let me do anything fun. You know how much I like to go outside and say hello to all my friends.”
“I know. That’s why I’m here. May I come inside?”
Her impish smile spread across the tiny landscape of her face. She grasped his hand and hauled him into the living room where Samuel and Ginger were speaking quietly together. Samuel held his leg stretched out on the sofa with his shoe politely hanging off the edge. The bad habit of putting his dirty shoes on the sofa had taken a long year to break.
Ginger blushed and averted her eyes to her lap when she noticed Jimmy. Samuel also looked away, and Jimmy’s instincts spiked with an urgent need to flee. Catherine gave the sleeve of his coat an insistent jerk, but he stood firm. Then she yanked him into motion, guiding him to where Ginger sat, and spun him around. She sat him down with a (not so little-girl) shove. Hands on her hips, she glared at Jimmy. He scooted away from Ginger and patted the seat between them. With a mighty, exasperated sigh, Catherine sat on the other side of Jimmy, forcing him to scoot back toward Ginger to make room. Then she scooted more, forcing Jimmy to scoot more. This process was repeated twice again before Catherine sat back, obviously satisfied.
Jimmy tensed with anxiety as the side of his arm brushed against Ginger. Half the sofa remained unoccupied on the other side of Catherine.
“Can you hear it?” she asked Samuel. “It’s the sound of a crashing hailstorm. Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump. It’s deafening. Are you sure you can’t hear it?”
Samuel offered her a weak grin. Jimmy narrowed his eyes at his best friend, who ducked his head and stared at the floor like a naughty dog.
Then Jimmy realized Ginger’s simple fragrance. Wildflowers growing on a hillside never smelled so sweet. He closed his eyes, wishing he could simply fall back into her.
Catherine giggled and his thoughts scattered like a murder of crows out of a grain field, swirling, trying to find the leader without bumping into each other.