Ted Hill - Sudden Independents

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.

Hunter 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.

Hunter’s pain lessened immediately. He looked into her blue eyes and found his pain registering there. “Are you okay?” he asked her.

She bit her lip and nodded.

Scout laid his book aside. “Okay, Hunter. Do you feel lightheaded or have shortness of breath?”

“I’m a little dizzy and my chest feels tight.”

“Okay, that’s normal. Do you think anything else is broken or do you have pain anywhere else?”

“No. Actually, I’m starting to feel better. But Catherine isn’t.” When Scout looked up, Hunter tilted his head toward the little girl.

“Catherine,” Scout said. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, I’m fine.”

Her hands felt warm and she swayed slowly back and forth. Her face eased a bit, but Hunter still saw pain in her eyes—his pain. He looked back at Scout.

Scout shrugged. He reached for Hunter’s bag that fell off the bike, dug out the water bottle and used the bag to prop up Hunter’s feet.

“We’ve got to stop the bleeding,” Scout said.

Hunter looked at his arm again, this time in fascination. Blood trickled off his elbow and pooled in the dirt.

Scout held the water bottle for Hunter as he drank, before emptying the rest over the wound, washing away the blood and grime. Hunter winced from the contact of cool water and thrashed his feet around some more at the tingling jolt. Then Scout pulled a small brown bottle from his pocket and unscrewed the cap.

“What’s that?” Hunter asked.

“It’s my bottle of iodine. It will kill all the germs just like when we put it in our bottled water. The iodine will keep the wound from getting infected.”

“Will it sting?”

“Hardly. You shouldn’t feel a thing.” Scout squeezed the bottle and red liquid shot over the open wound.

A cold, raging fire from hell singed every nerve in Hunter’s arm. Catherine winced. Hunter screamed. “Hardly my ass, you lying son of a bitch!”

Scout smiled, then gently wrapped Hunter’s arm with a clean shirt from his own backpack. “Hold your other hand here and apply some pressure until I get back,” Scout said.

Hunter, panting like a mad dog, did what Scout instructed. “Where are you going?”

“I have to find sticks to splint your arm. I won’t go far. Call out if you need me.”

Hunter watched Scout disappear into the inky darkness of the early summer evening. The stars illuminated the night, but probably not enough for speeding across the prairie. Scout would never let him forget this one. He realized that when Jimmy discovered what happened, Hunter would be lucky to leave town riding a tricycle.

Catherine’s warm hands and tiny fingers caressed his head. She smiled at him. Her eyes, brighter than the stars, contained a promise that everything would be all right.

Hunter’s worries dissolved. “Are you doing this?”

“Doing what, silly?” She scooted up on her knees and settled back down without moving her hands.

“Are you making me feel less pain, somehow?”

“I’m returning the favor. You found me, and now I’m helping you. Isn’t that what a friend is supposed to do? Plus, I hate when people suffer.”

“Yeah, but how is this possible? What are you?”

“I’m a little girl, silly.” A breeze stirred through Catherine’s hair and the candle went out. Her eyes still sparkled among the stars, even with the absence of candlelight.

Scout slipped out of the wind-lashed prairie grass and dumped a bundle of sticks with a loud clatter. He prepared a miniature teepee of twigs and then flicked open his silver Zippo, releasing the sweet smell of butane. He ignited a tiny fire and added sticks to the flames. Warm light filled their surroundings.

“Aren’t we going to leave soon?” Hunter asked.

“Not a chance. We’re going to have to make camp and wait ’til morning. You can’t ride like that, anyway.”

Scout lifted Hunter’s bike and set the kickstand, inspecting the handlebars while Hunter worried that he ruined his bike for good this time. He might be forced to ride a new bike, but he liked his Kawasaki. They had covered a lot of miles together over the past two years. The bike started on Scout’s second kick, the engine hummed and Hunter relaxed.

Scout cut the motor, restoring quiet. “We’ll see if it still rolls straight in the morning.”

They ate apples and dried meat from Scout’s backpack clustered beside the jittering flames. Scout left with the water bottles. After a while, he brought them back full and disappeared again, returning with another armload of firewood.