Sudden Independents - By Ted Hill Page 0,51

the mobilizing clouds and when they stopped at their house, it plummeted down on him like another curse from heaven.

“What the hell happened to our house?”

Stifled laughter sounded from the rear of his motorbike. He twisted backward and scowled at Jolanda. Her bonds and the gag suppressed her from pretty much everything, so she employed her only option—waggling eyebrows.

Scout propped his Suzuki on its kickstand and lurched over to the smoldering desolation. He stumbled at the edge, woozy from the sight and the scent. His second-story bedroom and all his stuff were reduced to a pile of charred rubble strewn along the ground. The brick fireplace stood alone, towering, sturdy and totally unsupported. Metal pipes leftover from the plumbing zigzagged in the sky.

“What happened to all my stuff? How does a house just burn to the ground?” He turned on Hunter and narrowed his eyes. “You didn’t leave a candle burning, did you?”

Hunter raised his hands. “No way, we left in the middle of the day, remember? Maybe a spark from the fireplace shot out and landed on the sofa cushions.”

“Maybe!” Scout’s voice cracked from the jump in octave. “Maybe!” He clenched his fists. His skin tightened over his body. “What about all my stuff! I’ve been collecting for years. I planned on using that stuff someday and now it’s all gone, all of it. I don’t even have a baseball glove anymore. And you think a spark maybe set fire to a couch cushion!”

Hunter plucked the non-simmering end of a two-by-four off the concrete path that used to lead home. He hurled the survivor into the black destruction that they used to call home.

“It’s just a theory.”

They stopped speaking with little more to say to each other. Scout searched the mess with his eyes, hoping to find something salvageable of his belongings. After a while he realized the inspection was pretty much pointless. All the sorrow of loss he felt six years ago returned and dragged him down again. He concealed his tears with a quick swipe before Hunter saw them.

The sound of running feet approached them from behind. Samuel scooted to a stop, took a second to catch his breath and then smiled. “You guys are all right. How’d you escape?”

“How’d you know we were captured?” Hunter asked.

“They took Catherine about an hour ago. Said they had captured you, and that they’d kill you if we followed.”

Hunter jumped on his bike. “Where’s my brother?”

“Over at Ginger’s house.”

“Get on,” Hunter said.

Samuel followed the order without hesitation and looked over at Scout’s bike. “Who’s the tied-up chick?”

“She’s one of them. Her name’s Jolanda,” Scout said, getting back onto his Suzuki.

Hunter broke out a grim smile when she tried to scream through her gag. Jolanda’s torment even gave Scout some small amount of pleasure. Samuel scratched underneath his stocking cap without comment.

“How did they find out about Catherine?” Scout asked. “I thought you were watching over her.”

“After they locked up Molly for torching your house—”

“Wait a minute. Molly burned all my stuff? Why?” Scout asked, and then he considered Hunter and added everything together. “You dumped her and she sets fire to my stuff.” He started rubbing a hand over his face, but stopped short because of the scratches from his recent scuffle with Jolanda. Instead, he shook his head in disbelief.

“I’m glad I wasn’t here when she came over,” Hunter said.

“I’m not. Maybe she would have stopped with you, instead of torching the whole place.”

Hunter frowned and closed his eyes. His head pitched forward like he was going to pray for forgiveness. They’d both lost their home, Scout reminded himself. At least Hunter wasn’t smirking about this. Scout didn’t think he could handle it if Hunter played this off with his hotshot attitude.

“So how did Chase and his crew find out about Catherine?” Hunter asked.

“That’s what I was trying to tell you,” Samuel said. “They broke Molly out and she led them right to Catherine. Jimmy and Ginger were there and after Molly whacked Jimmy in the head that kid Patrick beat the hell out of him.”

Hunter sat up and turned back toward his passenger. “Is Jimmy okay?”

Samuel looked at him. “Barely.”

Hunter started his big orange bike, gunned the throttle, and the engine roared. Samuel’s eyes widened as he grasped for Hunter’s waist before Hunter shifted into first and patched out.

Scout waved off the dust cloud that engulfed him from their departure. He gazed at the scorched debris that was now his stuff and grappled with emotions that threatened to