Sudden Independents

The pain sparkled as he climbed the rusty ladder to the grain elevator’s roof in Cozad, Nebraska. A mid-summer thunderstorm lashed upon him violently and sheets of water cascaded down the white concrete wall, making the climb more treacherous than he had anticipated. At least the rain provided good cover; the kid up top would be oblivious to Hunter’s approach in this mess.

Hunter reached for the next rung and his foot slipped, his body dropped and his left arm took the weight; pain seared through his shoulder. He clamped his other arm around the ladder tightly, trembling with fear from the thought of ping ponging down the safety cage. Rain pelted the hood of his waterproof jacket, loud and harsh in unison with his terrified panting. The ground waited to catch him a hundred feet below; another hundred feet of climbing and he’d reach the top where the sniper roosted.

Four months ago when Hunter had died, all of his cares and worries had been washed away. He was saved when his older brother, Jimmy, had made the ultimate sacrifice. That gift would be in vain if he fell now and crash-landed on his head.

Earlier that day, Hunter had slowed his motorbike up towards Cozad, visiting as an emissary from Independents to find out if Cozad’s food crops were also fighting a disease. That’s when the shots rang out, throwing up clouds of dirt from bullet impacts. Hunter had understood the message; go away.

Even if they had just been warning shots, he was still ticked off. Jimmy hadn’t given up his life so some yahoo could take Hunter out by accident or otherwise. Whatever the reason the kid had for scoping him with daddy’s deer rifle, he was about to learn the terrible consequence of jacking with people in the Big Bad.

With his grit back in check, Hunter climbed the rest of the way with no more thought about his shoulder. He peeked over the top where a hundred yards of puddles collected the rain over the flat surface. Thick drops clattered the metal roof of a narrow building that ran down the middle length of the grain elevator. No one was in sight.

Hunter stepped up and moved from the edge quickly before he was blown off like a kite in the gusty wind. He huddled against the narrow building and worked his bad shoulder, lifting up his arm and making small rotations. It still hurt, but that was expected. He could manage.

A taller out building at the other end of the grain elevator was barely visible through the curtain of rain. Maybe the sniper was inside cleaning his gun? Or maybe the kid went home at night? And maybe Hunter would just have to wait till morning before teaching his lesson? He’d been through worse weather out in the open.

Hunter caught a rotten whiff and pinched his nose. Whatever remained in the grain elevator had definitely turned. He crept alongside and peered with his left eye into the window of the lower building and saw only darkness. He lost his left eye the day he had lost his brother. He’d gotten used to the change of depth perception, but still struggled with the absence of Jimmy. That was going to take awhile.

He closed within fifty feet of the other end where a dark form huddled on the edge. A loud, thunder-like crack reverberated around the top of the elevator. Hunter saw the brief fire-flash and realized he’d been shot as the bullet ripped through his stomach and knocked him back against the building. He lifted up his shirt in startled amazement. The bullet hole closed without one drop of blood escaping.

When Hunter had been beaten to death, like the broken, bleeding and checking out for good kind of whooping, the ultimate sacrifice his brother had made involved Hunter being healed by a little girl named Catherine. Right then, Hunter thought the healing had some residual affect. Cool for him, bad news for whoever just shot him.

He advanced on the sniper and another shot fired, catching Hunter in the bad shoulder and spinning him to the ground. Hunter landed in a giant puddle and screamed in pain for one excruciating moment before the pain ceased. His shoulder reverted back to its normal dull ache, with no blood and no hole from the bullet’s entry or exit. The only thing he felt was a blood boiling desire to kill.

Hunter leapt to his feet and sprinted for the kid, but something wasn’t right. He skidded to a stop on the wet roof and wiped water from his eye. The boy’s clothes were drenched and his exposed skin rippled like ever changing waves on a pond; he stared at Hunter with milky eyes and a tail swished behind his back.

“You!” the thing hissed. “How did you get here? You won’t stop my master.”

Hunter wiped his eye again. Sure enough, he’d been shot by some kind of gun-toting demon-kid. If little girls can heal people back from the dead and some kid can unleash a plague that kills every adult around the world, then demons-why not. Hunter looked up for a guardian angle and was rewarded with a drop of water in his eye.