Sudden Independents - By Ted Hill Page 0,11
they picked up their duffle bags of clean laundry and headed home to fold. In Samuel’s case, he left his clean clothes stuffed in his duffle bag.
Jimmy also loved summer’s freshly dried clothing. In the winter, they hung their laundry in one of the barns on the outskirts of town with the aid of wood-burning stoves, giving every item—and everyone—the scent of a smoky campfire.
The boys followed a swarm of barefoot kids onto the red bricks of Main Street. Most kids didn’t wear shoes during the warm months if their work allowed it. Shoes wear out. Feet get tougher. Everyone in Independents hoarded their Nikes for times of true need.
Main Street was a block of two-story buildings set together like books on a shelf. The buildings were fixed up and painted with bright colors. Kids love to paint. Apartments on the second floors were for those who missed city life. The ground floors were filled with different necessities. There was Molly’s sewing shop, where they patched holes and hemmed cuffs. Mark’s seldom-used sheriff’s office was next door, where the harshest offense so far was staying up too late. Down the line was Luis’s clinic, or rather the Band-Aid station for bumps and scrapes. Luis dealt with the flu and a couple cases of strep every month or so, a broken bone or two, but so far major surgery was not a job requirement. There was also a general store where Hunter and Scout dumped stuff they salvaged for the other kids to play with or use. And the school, where Vanessa taught the younger kids how to read and write and use arithmetic. She taught history too, for a reason Jimmy failed to understand.
Overachievers in science and math got bumped up to the honors program. Jimmy knew Independents needed more smart kids, like Luis. An intelligent kid could unravel and comprehend the resources they’d lost and those they desperately needed.
A cure for the plague would be a good start.
Four girls, all named Brittany, ran the cafeteria, appropriately called Brittany’s. The double doors stood open allowing the air to circulate inside, and for laughter and high-pitched squeals to trickle out. The aroma of butter, garlic and onion also drifted outside, arousing the hunger in Jimmy’s stomach.
By the time he and Samuel approached Brittany’s, sweat from the summer heat ran down the side of his face. The collar of his clean T-shirt was sticking to his neck. He adjusted his hat in the reflection of the large windowpane and a couple of kids made faces at him from the opposite side. He crossed his eyes and pretended to pick his nose; one of the many ways he gained respect among the little ones.
Jimmy followed Samuel into the dining hall and was greeted by the youngest Brittany.
“You guys are early,” she said, handing over blue cloth napkins wrapped around utensils.
“We would have been here sooner, but somebody wanted to change his shirt,” Samuel said.
Jimmy bumped into Samuel as if by accident.
Brittany just smiled. “Right this way.” She guided them to the large table in the center, their usual spot. Soon the table would fill with other hungry town leaders. Eating together helped the older residents of Independents keep tabs on current events in town.
Chatter swelled within the building that was already a restaurant when Samuel’s brother filled the town with abandoned children six years ago. To get things running, the electric oven was replaced with wood-burning stoves collected from empty homes. One good thing about farmers is that they never threw anything away; so salvaging items after the plague like the stoves was easy. You just needed to open the right barn to find one. Barns dotted Nebraska like pimples on a thirteen-year-old.
Food was prepared fresh; refrigeration was lost along with electricity, indoor plumbing and cable television. The Brittanys decorated the walls with lots of things that belonged in either museums or garage sales, reminding Jimmy of Chili’s and Applebee’s restaurants from long ago. Those who recalled the canned-food years with dread jokingly referred to Brittany’s as TGIF: Thank God It’s Fresh.
“What’s on the menu tonight, Brittany?” Samuel asked.
“Chef Brittany has acquired a large amount of catfish, thanks to Dylan and the boys. They were up all night and in their words, ‘they killed.’ Our side dishes will be mashed potatoes and eggplant, thanks to you guys.”
“Don’t thank me for the eggplant,” Samuel said, discreetly pointing in Jimmy’s direction.
“I saw that,” Jimmy said.
“Excuse me.” Brittany scurried back to her post.
“Why do they wait