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  “Did you find anything useful to explain this or are you just interested in his life story?”

  “Shut your whore mouth, I’m working here. Defective Hollann on the case. Anyway, before you rudely interrupted... Pack of Marlboro Lights, for shame. Batcha his wife doesn’t know about that with this ninety-eight cent lighter. Nice clothing; clean shaven. So, what are you doing here now, my new friend? What could you possibly be doing....?”

  A loud explosion goes off a foot from Cane’s face; the heat forces his eyes closed; and the sound wave sends his eardrums into a high pitched ring. On pure instinct he dives backwards into a graceless back tumble for cover to be anywhere away from whatever threat is coming for him. A quick ‘shit!’ is the only sound he can make as he escapes the danger.

  Trey falls to the ground in a fit of laughter. A complete giggle-fit combined with wheezing and snorting.

  As the world stops spinning, the positional nystagmus wears off, and the realization of the prank sets in, Cane looks to his brother incredulously, “You prick! I damn near crapped myself, not to mention almost broke my friggin’ neck flipping around like that.” He jumps to his feet and kicks Trey in the upper thigh in retaliation only serving to cause his older brother to laugh harder. “Alright, get up you damn hyena! Let’s get back to camp before I shoot you in your foot. So much for not wasting ammo, dick.”

  Trey composes himself and stands, gasping for air at the exertion of laughing and holding his sides. When he settles, the brothers hear a noise coming from the trail back to the four-wheeler.

  Cane, “All that shooting must’ve brought the family together again probably think I left you out here to die, dickhead.”

  Trey giggles still breathing heavily, “You couldn’t hit me even if I was standin’ six feet in front of your muzzle, don’t flatter yourself.”

  Cane draws his gun and smirks, “Wanna bet?”

  The brothers quietly laugh and look towards the incoming noise. Another unfamiliar man steps out from a tree after he walks face first into it and bounces off to the side. The man catches sight of the brothers and his head tilts, resembling a confused puppy.

  Cane looks back to the body on the ground, “Must be a friend of yours, huh?” The man charges like a linebacker for Cane. He raises his gun, “Stop right there, fuckface!” The man picks up speed and closes the distance fast. Cane fires and the projectile catches the man in the shoulder only serving to spin the man slightly into another tree wrapped in thorns, which momentarily entangles the stranger. Cane sighs in frustration, “Fuck, we can’t just keep merc-ing people. T, take his hips out, please, brother dearest.”

  Trey, “If you say so genius.”

  The man pulls free of the thorns and Trey fires. The man stumbles as the bullet passes through his left hip shattering the joint. He resumes his charge ignoring the useless leg, and lunges for Cane with surprising agility. Cane fires again from the hip, striking the man in the abdomen, as he is slightly airborne just before he collides with the younger brother.

  Cane and the man tumble to the ground. Cane reacts with an elbow strike to the man’s jaw and then locks his forearm into the man’s throat. The man lingers for a moment and stares with his mouth wide open, drooling, before his teeth start clanking together as he tries to bite Cane in the face. “T, little help here.” Trey doesn’t respond just takes a step and delivers a full force field goal soaring kick to the man’s chin, snapping his head back, and forcing him off of the younger brother. Trey extends a quick hand and helps Cane get to his feet

  Cane shakes off the fog in his head, “Fucker tried to bite me. Remember the guy in Florida? Hyped up on ‘MOJO’ that ate that hobo’s face off? Reminds me of him.” The man reaches for Cane’s ankles. He levels his gun at the man’s forehead and steps on his outstretched hand, “Fool me once, shame on you; Fool me twice... well that just don’t happen.” He fires and the man lies motionless after his brain is violently removed and abstractly paints the dirt road.

  Trey, “Looks like you’ve developed a knack for your own life commentary.”

  “Ya know normally I’d say bite me, but after this you just freakin’ might.” The brothers laugh together again.

  “In hopes to avoid irony, he kinda looks like a corpse, doesn’t he?”

  “Meh, graying skin, bloodshot eyes, actually your right... for once.”

  Trey kicks Cane in the back of the knee, “First guy was the same way.”

  “True that. Something’s definitely up.”

  “I have to agree, little brother. Whatcha say? Shoot first; ask questions later?”

  “Yea especially for people like this. Like I’ve said before: ‘I’ve seen this movie, it doesn’t end well for us.’”

  Trey laughs, “If I had a dollar for every time you’ve said that crap. You’re afraid of your own damn shadow, you know that right? It’s ok you can tell me, I’m here for you, puddin’.”

  Cane shakes his head, “I swear one day, I’ll end you. Just because I’m afraid of the dark once in a while doesn’t mean I’m afraid of my shadow. You gonna check this one or do I have to do all the work.”

  “Hey you tried to kiss him, probably why he tried to bite you. Must like little boys.” Trey starts another giggle fit but shakes it off, “Alright I got this one.” He begins to search the man, “Oh and if you’re thinking about getting me back for our little ‘live fire exercise,’ don’t. I may just lose my nerve and shoot back.”

  “Worried, really. Wouldn’t waste a bullet on your sorry ass, now come on. I’m sure Mom’s freaking out by now with all the shooting you did.”

  “If I recall, oh wise one, you did more shooting than I did.”

  “By one shot! I didn’t know you could even count that high, let alone counting two separate items at once.”

  “Guns, little brother, my passion, my obsession, and my way of life.”

  “Way to be philosophical, moron. Hurry up, let’s get back to the bike.”

  “Keep your panties on. Got nothing important. Wallet’s empty. Hold on, look at his leg.” He leans in and grabs the man’s limp ankle turning his left leg, revealing a chunk of flesh missing from the calf. “That looks nasty, it’s got puss coming out of it. Wonder how that happened, hog or a bobcat maybe. Ah, fuck it, let’s go, we’ll see what Pops wants to do about ‘em when we get back.”

  “Roger that, slick.”

  The brothers make it back to the four wheeler with little chatter and an abundance of caution. Neither will admit to the other they are unnerved at not only the first but the first two people they’ve ever shot. They arrange their gear, load their long guns onto the rack and climb on the four-wheeler. On the trail back to camp, another stranger is standing on the trail and turns to face the brothers as the four wheeler approaches. The man begins to trudge towards them.

  Cane taps Trey’s shoulder, “See if you can take him with the twenty-two. Rather not waste my expensive rounds first.”

  Trey retrieves the .22 caliber rifle, aims, and the cross-hairs cover the man’s eye. Trey fires and the .22 caliber projectile enters the man’s right eye. The brothers learned long ago from a friend who hunted alligators for the Department of Wildlife and Fisheries, a .22 goes in and just begins to bounce around until it loses energy. Typically on anything of a decent size, the projectile doesn’t even exit. The man drops like a sack of potatoes and Trey maneuvers the bike around him, a conflicting feeling of running over a human corpse he just shot nudges his conscience. As they round a corner on the dirt trail, three more figures appear. One in the center of the trail, one on the left side and one in the brush to the right.

  Cane draws Trey’s 1911 from his hip, aims around his shoulders, and says, “I got the one on the left side; bulldoze the motherfucker in the center. I’ll drop him if I can. Hopefully we’ll avoid the dude on the right all together.”

  Trey nods and hits the accelerator as Cane fires two rounds into the chest of the figure on the left side. The bike slams into the center figure a
nd launches it forward before it hits the ground and the bike goes over the top of it. The bike crushes the heads of the center and left figures. The figure on the right reaches for the bike and grabs the rear rail. The figure is dragged behind the bike for several seconds until Cane turns and fires a round into its nasal cavity. The back of its head is blown out and it releases the rail.

  Cane, “T, I don’t like this. Step on it. We gotta make sure everyone else is ok.” Multiple shots are heard in the distance, Cane slaps Trey in the head, “T, GO! NOW!” Trey guns the accelerator again and the bike roars. The sounds of shots fill the air as the brothers approach their parents’ stand. They round another corner near their father’s stand and observe two bodies lying in the dirt.

  Pops, “Announce yourselves now!”

  Cane, “Pops, it’s me and Trey! Y’all ok?”

  “We’re good. Get back to camp; I’m going to get your mother.”

  “You heard from Gavin or Wade yet?”

  “No I haven’t. Was all that shooting you?”

  “Trey helped a little. Where’s Mom?”

  “Up in the stand, I’ll get her. Go get your brother and Wade.” Trey and Cane race off towards the other end of the lease. Pops begins to reload his Ruger Single Action .45 Long Colt revolver he had taken to carrying in a classic old west style leather holster, complete with ammo banding on the waistline.

  Trey looks back at his brother and shouts over the noisy four wheeler, “See if you can get them on the phone.”

  Cane retrieves his cell phone and calls Gavin. On the phone, “G, can ya hear me? Are y’all ok?”

  Gavin, “Of course we’re ok, why wouldn’t we be? Ain’t seen shit out here. What was all the shooting?”

  “Trey and I are coming to get you. Stay loaded and...”

  “Hold on. Some dipshit is wandering around the food plot.”

  “Gavin, something’s wrong, we need to get back to camp. Is Wade still with you?”

  “What do you mean something’s wrong?”

  “Gavin, shut up for a second, is Wade with you? Do you have the bike?”

  “No, Wade went back to camp like an hour ago. You know that grumpy kid hates waking up. And, yea, I got the bike.”

  “Stay away from the guy wandering the plot, get on your bike, and get back to camp. You brought your ‘M and P’ with you?”

  “Yea, why?”

  “Just trust me, if nothing else keep it handy and make it back to camp. If you see anyone but us stay away, we’re going to check on Wade.” Cane hangs up, “T, go to camp. Wade’s pansy-ass-ness got the best of him and he went back an hour ago. He may not know what’s up.”

  Trey, “Roger that.”

  STEVE

  As Trey and Cane race for the camp, Gavin kicks his feet up again and just watches the man wandering the area. After a while, he hears more gunshots, closer this time, and he decides to gradually make his way out of the box stand. When he hits the ground, against his youngest brother’s advice, he looks to the man wandering aimlessly through the grass. “I don’t see what the big deal is. Idiot just looks drunk and lost. Hey, you lost?!”

  The man faces Gavin with certainty and Gavin falters a step, startled by the sudden reaction from the otherwise absent minded wanderer.

  Gavin, “Well at least I know you’re not deaf. Need a lift back to the road?”

  The man begins to walk towards Gavin.

  Gavin mumbles to himself, “You may not be deaf but you could at least say something. Ungrateful people.” The man starts to jog towards Gavin picking up speed. He starts to regret his decision to ignore his brother. He draws his Smith and Wesson M&P .40 and levels it at the man, “Don’t run, idiot... What the...”

  The man continues to close the distance on Gavin and starts to run at a full sprint. Before he can pull the trigger, the man jumps and collides with him and they both go tumbling to the dirt. The man gains the advantage and gets on top of the eldest brother.

  Gavin, “What the fuck, man, get off me!” The man tries to bite him, but Gavin overpowers the stranger and pushes him up with his left hand wrapped around the man’s throat. The man growls deeply in response, the sound reverberating through Gavin’s wrist. “Oh fuck this.” Gavin presses his gun to the man’s temple and fires. The man goes limp; Gavin heaves him off to the side, and then struggles to get to his feet.

  Gavin stands and feels a familiar pain, “Dammit. Twisted this freaking ankle again. One day I’ll lose this weight, but, eh, maybe tomorrow, for now... a snack.” Gavin retrieves a Ziploc bag of goldfish from his cargo pocket and looks to the dead man on the ground. “Well shit, first he tackles me, and then I ‘almost’ feel bad for shootin’ him. Guess the skinny kid was right.”

  Gavin hobbles to his four-wheeler and starts it. He takes one last look at his bloodstained clothes and groans, “Great, blood on my favorite huntin’ shirt. I hope mom can get this crap off.” He flicks brain matter off his shoulder and hears a four wheeler approaching.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Trey and Cane arrive at the hand-built ‘shack’ they call the camp. Two figures are lurking near the far end of the area. They shut down the bike and continue quietly on foot; thanking good fortune the unknown visitors haven’t acknowledged their presence yet.

  Cane, “I’ll get Wade. Watch those two and try not to hurt yourself.”

  Treys scrunches his face, “Ain’t that sweet, go wake sleeping beauty and let’s get the hell home.”

  “Yea, yea.” He opens the door to the camp to find Wade asleep facing the wall on the rack beds secured directly to the wall. He kicks Wade in the ass, “Wake up, douche, we got issues.” Wade grunts in response and rolls to his back.

  Cane raises his voice, “TF-504, bitch, Code 3, let’s go!”

  At the sound of their familiar warning system, which began as an inside joke, intermixed with police jargon, Wade sits up and smacks his head on the rack above him. He rubs his head and squints at Cane, “If you’re messing with me, I’m going to hurt you.” Still holding his head, Wade retrieves his glasses.

  “You wouldn’t even if you could, tubby. You love me too much.”

  “I hate your face. What’s the deal? Breakfast ready yet?”

  “I don’t know. You were the first one back; you didn’t even start the fire back up.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Well then, sunshine, get dressed and get armed, in the words of Mermaidman and Barnacle Boy, ‘There’s evil afoot!’“

  Wade rolls his eyes and swings his legs off the bed, “And that evil needed me to be awake?”

  “Well you missed all the fun so far but if you hurry I’ll let you play with our new friends to show you. Mainly because I haven’t got the slightest idea how to explain it to you.” He’s met with a look that has disapproval written all over it. “You get to shoot stuff, and it’s a moving target you’ll love it. Now hurry before Trey decides he’s more entitled to fun than you are.”

  “You mean like always?”

  The best friends begin to laugh and Wade finishes dressing. Cane pushes him, “Hurry up, time's-a-wastin’.”

  “Would you hold on for a second, we can’t all be excited all the time like you. Let me strap this freaking thing on.”

  “That’s what she said.”

  Wade laughs, “Dammit, you beat me to it.”

  “I’m actually going to beat you if you don’t hurry the hell up.”

  “That’s what she said.”

  “No, that didn’t work; you’re dumb; there’s shit that needs killin’ come on.”

  Wade finally adjusts his Beretta 92FS in his thigh rig holster, “Alright, what’s so damn important.”

  Cane opens the door and bows, “After you ma’am, see for yourself.”

  Wade slaps Cane in the side of the head as he exits and sees Trey with weapon drawn waiting at a low ready facing the far end of the road.

  Trey, “Well, well, well, nice of you to join us, pumpkin.”

  Wade, “Bite me.�
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  Cane scratches his head, “Actually, you may wanna change that a bit.” He points, “Look over there.”

  Wade, “So what, two people standing on the road. What? Did you make life size dummies for target practice?”

  Trey and Cane laugh. Cane comments first, “Why have we never thought of that before? Well, bestest friend, those are not dummies, we did not make them, but so far, others like them have proven to be quite the target practice. You trust me?”

  Wade sighs aloud, “You yes, your brother no. Would you just tell me?”

  “More fun to show you. HEY! OVER HERE MORONS!”

  The two figures at the end of the road look to the brothers and their friend and begin to jog towards them.

  Wade, “Da fuck is this?”

  Cane, “Closest thing I’ve seen to this is some ridiculous horror movie. But first, I suggest you pull out that Beretta and be ready to shoot.”

  “Uh, yea, no. They do know I have live rounds right?”

  Trey drops his magazine for verification and slams it home, “So do I. Watch this shit.”

  Wade rolls his eyes, “Famous last words.”

  Trey fires at the closest figure twice and it slows as the projectiles strike flesh but it continues to come towards them. At the sound of the shots, the figures pick up speed.

  Wade, “Well then this has been interesting. So what? You missed for once? Can I go back to bed now?” Cane grabs Wade and begins to push him towards the incoming figures. “Get off me, what is this?”

  Cane, “Well, I wanna say ‘zombies’ but it sounds a little cliché. I think I’m gonna call them ‘steves.’ Might wanna draw now and stop them before they get too close.”

  “Yea, ok, you’re retarded. I’m going to bed.”