Tales from the Wasteland | The No Leaf Clover

Chapter 20

Endure. A word like any other. It isn't the word itself that gives meaning but the emotion behind it. The Brothers Grimm understand this word more than most. They hold it as a symbol of their love and devotion to each other, out of a childhood so dark and grim that all they could do is endure. Endure pain, hardship, and sacrifice. Stare into the embodiment of fear and endure. Slade, being three years older, is the eldest. Stubborn and arrogant like older brothers, Slade took great pride in "making Gabriel a man," as he often put it.

Gabriel was naïve and innocent. He admired his older brother greatly and despised him at the same time. Blindly following Slade and always surprised when he would throw him under the proverbial bus when things took a nosedive. Their parents were typical of the slums in the Dark City and took any job that came along to provide shelter and food. The boy's mother loved them deeply and made her own sacrifices for them. She understood what it meant to endure.

Their father, for the most part, provided for his family but often-times let blind ambition get the better of him. For each step forward, the boy's father would find a way to take two steps back. Each attempt was with good intentions, but the road to hell always needs good paving.

It was a humid summer evening when Gabriel was ten and Slade thirteen. The boys were playing in the slum park, as usual. Picking up worn cans and placing them into a pyramid to dismantle with rocks. Slade was a tall, slender youth, standing almost two heads taller than his pudgy little brother. The older brother's light brown hair was pulled back in a braid with the sides buzzed to the scalp. Their mother typically cut the boy's hair. As Slade grew older, he disdained the bowl cut she gave.

Gabriel, on the other hand, was still too young to care and wore his mother's masterpiece proudly. Slade started doing some side work for a Three Finger Gang member named Taft, netting him some extra cash for better clothing. His parents never asked. They thought it was better to stay ignorant. His black long sleeve shirt formed fittingly over his thin frame. Slade's gray pants were a tad baggy, which slipped into his dark leather boots.

Gabriel wore all of Slade's old hand me downs. His fat little body could no longer wear clothes for a ten-year-old. His mother was reduced to hemming Slade's worn clothes. His choice for today was a brown short sleeve t-shirt and tight worn denim pants.

Each boy takes a turn lobbing rocks at the tin can pyramid. Slade is able to knock off the top one. Gabriel takes his turn and throws the jagged pebble with all his might. Unfortunately, it is nowhere close to the target.

"God damn, your aim is shit, fatty." Slade laughs, voice cracking as he points at his chubby brother.

"Shut up Slade!" Gabriel cries, crossing his pudgy little arms around his chest.

The boys continue hurling rocks and insults when Taft makes his way from behind. About ten yards out, Taft yells out to the brothers.

"Fellas, what's the haps? Holy shit, Gabe, that haircut makes you look like a chubby limp dick. Tell your mom to stop cutting your hair."

"Screw you, Taft," Gabriel screams as Slade erupts into another crackling laugh.

The chubby little boy storms off to a dilapidated swing set. He throws all of his weight as he sits in the cracked rubber seat and sulks. He swings back and forth slouched over, grumbling from Taft's comment. Slade and Taft chuckle at Gabriel's actions to the swing set.

"What a putz." Taft remarks before looking back at Slade.

The messy-haired eighteen-year-old pulls out a tin of smokes from his split leather jacket. He offers one to Slade, who declines the offer. He lights the short cigarette, blowing the smoke in Slade's direction.