Edge: The Loner

For perhaps a minute Joe stood unmoving upon the spot from which he had fired, looking at Jamie bound to the tree. He knew it was his brother, even though his face was unrecognizable where the scavengers had ripped the flesh to the bone, their hooked bills gouging out the eyes, ripping great strips of flesh from mouth to ears. He saw the right hand picked almost completely clean of flesh, as a three fingered skeleton of what it had been, still securely nailed to the tree. He looked at the gaping wound at the knee of what had been Jamie’s good leg, the Levis having been torn down to the cuff so the birds would have easy access to their meal.

Then Joe moved, salty moisture stinging his eyes, aware that he was crying for the first time since he was 18 years old and had let off his father’s Hall flintlock to turn Jamie into a cripple. He dropped the rifle to the ground and took two strides at first, then broke into a loping run which ended with a vicious kick to one of the dead birds, sending it arcing away, dead wings spreading to thud into the ground fifteen yards away. Sobs exploded from his throat, he kicked another bird clear, picked up a third by its neck and hefted it after its evil companions. Then he took hold of Jamie’s shirt front and ripped it, pressed his lips against the cold, waxy flesh of his brother’s chest, letting his grief escape, not moving until his throat was pained by dry sobs and his tears were exhausted. Not until then did he reach under his uniform coat and take from its sheath at the small of his back a bone handled hunting knife, honed to perfection on both edges and needle pointed. The blade gleamed dully in the shade of his body, flashed brilliantly in the early morning sun as it slashed through the ropes. There mere bones which were all that remained of Jamie’s right hand slid easily from the nails and Joe laid his brother reverently on the ground.

All emotion drained from him, Joe moved quickly and efficiently now, going to the remains of the barn and searching among the charred timber, unconcerned with the stench of the carcass of the horse that had panicked and burned to death. He found a spade, twisted by intense heat, its wooden handle burned from it, but still serviceable and carried it back to the tree. There, on the far side from where Jamie had died, Joe stripped to the waist and started to dig, finding the ground hard and unwilling to be marred by the crude tool. But, as the sun grew higher and grew hotter, drawing sweat from every pore of his body, Joe’s bulging muscles won the battle. Working with strength of will he never suspected he possessed, Joe scraped out a grave seven feet long and four feet deep without once stopping to rest. Then he went to get Jamie and in stooping to pick up the body saw the thumb and forefinger, which had been shot from the hand and overlooked by the buzzards. He picked these up, hard and stiff with the texture of twigs and when he had lowered the body into the grave, dropped them in, too. It took only a few minutes to shovel the earth back into the hole. And form a slight mound with the excess displaced by Jamie.

He made a cross with two pieces of wood from a section of the fence which had escaped the fire and used the point of his knife to etch Jamie’s full name and yesterday’s date in the cross member. He drove it into the soft earth at the head of the grave, then put his uniform back on, carefully looping around his neck a length of cord with a long, slim pouch attached, arranging it so that the pouch hung at his back, pointing down the length of his spine. His jacket, buttoned to the throat, hid both cord and pouch. Then he stood beside the grave, holding his hat by the brim in both hands, and looked down at the mound. His voice faltered as he searched for the words, but was strong and resonant when he spoke them.

“Jamie, our Ma and Pa taught us a lot out of the Good Book, but it’s a long time since I felt the need to know about such things. I guess you’d know better than me what to say at a time like this. Rest easy, brother. I’ll settle your score. Whoever they are and wherever they run, I’ll find them and I’ll kill them. I’ve learned some special ways of killing people and I’ll avenge you good.” Now Joe looked up at the sky, a bright sheet of azure cleared of smoke. “Take care of my kid brother, Lord,” he said softly, and put on his hat with a gesture of finality, marking the end of his moments of reverence.