When the plague struck the planet, Samuel and his older brother were living in Independence, Missouri. Soon after all the adults died, Greg rounded up every kid he could find and led them to the small, deserted Nebraska town they eventually renamed Independents.
Samuel looked just like him.
Jimmy gave him a friendly punch to the shoulder. “I don’t do it all alone, you know.”
Samuel smiled. “I’m just the help. You’re the Man. Everybody in town looks up to you, but that’s probably because you’re the tallest.”
And there it was, the fear rising in Jimmy again. “And the oldest.”
Samuel’s eyes narrowed as he shook his head. “Come off it, Jimmy. You have to stop thinking that way. The plague isn’t around for you to worry about anymore. You don’t have a cutoff date.” Samuel jabbed the shovel into the ground and leaned hard on the handle while Jimmy struggled under his intense stare. Intense usually wasn’t Samuel’s thing. “You’re not going to die on your eighteenth birthday.”
“It’s seven months away, you know?”
“Of course, I know. Who has been smashing and fermenting grapes since your last birthday? I’ve got Scout and Hunter searching every Wal-Mart they come across for balloons and streamers. I’m even trying to get one of the Brittanys to fall in love with your sorry butt so you can pass on to manhood with a bang.” Samuel winked. “Pun intended.”
Trying to laugh his worry away, Jimmy grabbed for the shovel and watched Samuel do his best keeping his balance before stumbling to one knee. “All right, that’s enough fooling around,” Jimmy said, helping Samuel up again. “Let’s get going before we miss supper.”
“Okay, but I’m serious about one thing. That wine will be good.” Samuel snatched Jimmy’s hat. “Yuck! This thing’s wetter than a dirty mop.”
“Serves you right, now give it back.”
Samuel tossed the hat and Jimmy fumbled the catch, feigning a charge in Samuel’s direction, laughing again as his friend stuck up his hands like he was going to throw a karate chop. “Take it easy, man. I’ve been reading about Tae Kwon Do.”
Jimmy nodded, slapping Samuel’s hands aside and grazing him upside the head, just to show him he could. “Reading’s one thing, application is something else.”
Samuel smiled. “You’re quick.”
“Don’t forget it.”
They arrived at the dirt road that wound along the fields and up the hill to the wooden farmhouse the two shared on the outskirts of town. As they crested the hill, Jimmy noticed a pleasant fragrance drifting on the breeze and spotted the vivid flowerbed beside their front porch.
“Who’s been planting flowers?” he asked.
“Wasn’t me,” Samuel said. “It looks nice, though. We could use more flowers around here, but I certainly don’t have time to plant tulips. I bet Vanessa brought the school kids down on a field trip to get their little hands dirty.”
“I don’t think those are tulips.”
“Whatever.” Samuel primed the well in the front yard, filling the green plastic bucket they kept there for washing up.
Right after his parents died, Jimmy learned a lot of things in a short time; but one of the most important was that underneath Nebraska lies an underground aquifer—the state sits on top of a giant lake. There were two tasks that had to be completed when Greg marched everyone into town. The second task was locating a water-drilling rig mounted on a GMC diesel truck and installing manual water pumps all over town.
The first was burying all the dead bodies.
Jimmy dropped to the wooden front porch and began unlacing his work boots. Samuel brought the bucket over and copied him. As they banged their boots on the side of the steps, little piles of dirt tumbled out, landing on mounds that grew by the day. Jimmy’s toes felt good wiggling free inside his dirty socks.
The longer Jimmy sat, the more exhausted he felt, but that was nothing new. Now that there was time to ruminate without flying mud-balls pounding him in the chest, his main concern rattled his thoughts again.
“Any word from Hunter yet?”
Samuel shook his head as he rubbed his left foot. “Not that I’ve heard. Scout left this morning to go look for him like you asked. He’s going to be pissed if Vanessa delivers the baby while he’s gone.”
“Yeah, he told me that, over and over. I’m glad he went, anyways,” Jimmy said. “I just wish Hunter would stick to the schedule.”
“That’s why little brothers are so special. I used to make Greg’s life a living hell.” Samuel smiled. “That’s when life was living hell, so he probably didn’t notice much.”
“Hunter’s crossing the line. Now Scout’s out there wasting time just to bring him back. He’d better start doing what he’s told. I’ll yank him off that bike and make him spend a month cleaning outhouses.”
“Now don’t go all mom and dad on him. If you do he’ll just leave and keep going. Hunter’s a stubborn horse, but I think that runs in the family. Give him time and space, he’ll grow up.”
“He better,” Jimmy said. He stood and stretched until his back felt almost right again. “Let’s change out of these muddy clothes and get out of here. I’m starving. At least we’re not having cabbage tonight.”
Samuel placed his work boots next to Jimmy’s on the porch. “You’re the one who planted a whole field of them. I guess cabbage is better than that eggplant, though.”
“Eggplant’s good for you.”
Samuel laughed. “You are getting old.” The screen door slammed shut as he disappeared inside the house.
Jimmy didn’t need the reminder. He rubbed the suspicious soreness in his neck with absolute certainty that surviving his eighteenth birthday would require a miracle.
THREE
Scout raced the hot sun as he rode in the wrong direction from Independents. His older sister, Vanessa, was about to give birth to his little niece or nephew and yet here he was looking for Jimmy’s brother again. Stupid, Hunter! Scout shouldn’t have to go fetch him every time he ran a couple days late. Hunter knew he ought to check in on schedule. When you rode out into the Big Bad, people who cared about you worried. Simple.
Scout, like Hunter, traveled through the countryside, watching for disturbances and rummaging for stuff to take back to Independents. They hardly traveled together anymore, but Scout thought it wouldn’t take long to find him; that is if Hunter followed the route he marked down on the map before he left.
With less than three hours before dark, Scout stopped on top of a hill, turned off his engine, and listened. The wind sang to him and he stretched out his arms to feel it pass around him like a forgotten spirit.
The world was too beautiful to leave behind, but he, like every other teenager in Independents, worried about dying. Still, he tried to reason with himself; he needed faith in something. Otherwise what was the purpose of riding out every day?
Some days his job made him sick. He picked through the dead, collecting their treasured belongings for the kids at Independents or his own collection of trinkets. Growing up in a low-income neighborhood of St. Louis, he owned very few possessions during his first nine years. Now he snagged anything he wanted like an archeologist raiding an Egyptian tomb. He didn’t worry about a curse. He lived one.
His reason to persevere, supplying him a moderate supply of hope, was the life his sister was delivering into this world. Only he wouldn’t be there when it happened. Stupid Hunter! Scout punched his gas tank and regretted the pain instantly.
A few minutes more of silence gave way to the familiar humming of another motorbike zipping up the distance. The hum changed into a buzz, then a high-pitched whine, and finally the motorbike broke into sight.