The Brothers of Fire Part 2: A Taste for Vengeance

Josiah crouched low, raised his binoculars, and looked out over the valley before him. An angry yellow sun partially eclipsed by the Dome in the distance, and, beneath it, several horses covered in bleached animal skins and bone armor grazed lazily in the tall grass in the massive structure’s shadow, now untethered from the carts they once towed. Bodies lay strewn around the outer buildings and beneath the Dome’s supports, most of them stripped down to the underclothes, their weapons and armor laying in one centralized heap. Josiah flinched when a large man stepped into view. He wore the same bleached hides that adorned the horses, and held a bundle of rifles close to his chest. The man dropped the rifles onto the pile of loot, and turned back toward the center of the Dome’s before pausing and scanning the area around him. The sun glinted off of the man’s shaved head, his face coated in what looked like dry mud with blood red smears on either cheek. When the man’s gaze drifted toward the rocks from which Josiah was watching him, Josiah instinctively ducked for a moment. When he peered back over the rocks, the lumbering figure was walking back from the direction from which he came, and Josiah let out an audible sigh of relief.

He’d been following them since the raid three nights earlier, after they tore through his village, killing everything and everyone in their path. These “Brothers of Fire” had certainly lived up to their reputation, leaving little more than rows of smoldering shacks and empty crates in their wake. Had it not been for his father insisting that Josiah lead the children and infirm out through the tunnels to the safety of the surrounding hillside, he would have most likely died alongside his parents that evening, but, instead, he watched from the treeline as his home was reduced to ashes. When Josiah returned in the morning, he found one of the Brothers had stayed behind, sitting by a campfire, swigging from a bottle of grain alcohol, and mumbling to himself incoherently. Roasting on a spit above the flames was a blackened slab of flesh that looked like no animal Josiah had ever seen.

Then the realization set in, and Josiah felt his insides flip.
The Brother shaved a piece of meat off of the slab with a long rusty blade and shoved it into his mouth, grinding it between sharply filed teeth as blood and juices flowed down over his chin and dripped to the ground beneath him.

Bile pooled in the back of Josiah’s throat, but he choked it back as tears of rage welled in his eyes. He felt his hand drift down to the bone club that dangled from his rope belt, and wrapped his fingers around it so tightly that his fingernails dug into the padding of his hand. He let out a faint grunt that slowly rose to an almost primal shriek as he charged toward the drunken raider, the club held above his head as he quickly closed the distance between them. The Brother turned, his scarred and painted face contorted in a mix of shock and bemusement at the sight of the adolescent boy running toward him. The Brother tried to get to his feet, but he was slowed by food and alcohol, and before he could so much as scramble to his knees, Josiah’s club caved in the front of his skull with such force that it snapped in half.

The Brother swatted Josiah aside like a ragdoll, and clumsily rose to his feet. Blood rained down either side of his nose in rivulets, and his eyelids fluttered as his body teetered from side to side as he shambled toward Josiah.

The brother stood before him, reached down to his holster, jerked out a rusty revolver, and aimed it at Josiah’s head.

Josiah squeezed his eyes shut in anticipation as two shots rang out, followed by a dull thud and then an intolerable ringing in his ears.

When Josiah opened his eyes again, the Brother lay face down in the dust before him. Josiah quickly grabbed the revolver from the man’s hand and scurried backward, holding the gun out in front of him. The man lay motionless; a pool of crimson forming in the sand around his head.

Josiah sat there long enough for the sand to drink up the last of the Brother’s blood. As day gave way to night, he wandered in a daze, his ears still ringing like church bells, out of the still-smoldering village to the collapsed gates. It was there that he saw the Brother’s horse tied to one of the posts that was still left standing. That was when he made the decision.

He would go after them.

He would follow them back to their home.

He would make them pay.

But first he had a stop to make.

The brother’s hadn’t taken everything.

****

The sun lay low beyond the dome, now, and the sky was a burnt orange. Josiah could only make out vague shadows as the Brothers loaded their carts and horses with their newest acquisitions. Within moments, they were on the move again.

Josiah scrambled back up the rocky face of the hillside, navigated his way through a dark patch of trees and brush, and emerged in the clearing where he left his horse and the small cart it towed behind them. Josiah grabbed an apple from the saddle bag and held it to the horse’s mouth and stroked the creature’s mane gently as it devoured the treat.

“Good girl,” he whispered.
The horse chuffed back, as Josiah undid the rope around the tree, and soon they were off. Once they cleared the trees, Josiah could see the flickering torches of the Brothers of Fire’s caravan in the distance, and he steered the horse in their direction. The burnt orange sky had given way to cool blue moonlight that cast long shadows across the open terrain. Josiah looked over his shoulder at the cart he towed behind him.

He had been helping his father bury caches of supplies around the desert since he was old enough to lift a shovel. Everything from fuel to canned goods to guns and ammunition.

Oh, and explosives. Lots and lots of explosives.

It took him longer than he thought it would to dig them up. By the time he was done, he’d almost given up hope that he would catch up with them.

But then he heard the gunfire in the east. He knew where that sound was coming from, and he knew it was them. He had a feeling in his gut that was almost as strong as the rage that was boiling over inside of him.

Josiah gave the horse a gentle kick and they sped up to a light trot toward the dancing flames on the horizon. As wispy clouds drifted lazily across the pale moon, a grin spread across his face.

Such surprises he had in store for these Brothers of Fire.

TO BE CONTINUED...EVENTUALLY???

• CHAPTER ONE

THE BROTHERS OF FIRE GARAGE DOOR!! NORMALS AND ARTWORK BY B3D!! TEXTURES (and story) BY STABBY!!

FEEL THE BURN!!!!!!!!!!!!!

NO-GLOW VERSION: ↓ CLICK ↓