Valley of Death

Chapter 1

   Sounds of clicking and metal scraping as Sean loads shells into the chamber of his shotgun. His hands are masculine and steady from his years of training. He screams at the top of his lungs.

"Give yourself up Tom."

   Sean stops loading his weapon. The heat of the noon sun tans his fair skin and he waits for a response as he huddles behind the front of his cruiser for protection. A warm summer wind picks up and blows dirt and dust from the ground around into the air. He looks up to the sky and sees in the distance dark clouds briskly approaching. The campaign style hat which is exactly like the kind a state trooper wears is ripped off his head by a gust and tumbles away exposing his short black hair. He instinctively reaches for it extending his body beyond the vehicle's protection.

   The driver's side headlight of the vehicle explodes from a bullet shattering the glass and sends shrapnel spraying in every direction.

    Sean drops to the ground and shields his face as he thinks to himself. Shit that was close, when did he get so good. The sheriff quickly scoots backward and watches as the strong winds push his hat away. He sits and rests against the tire of his vehicle, beads of sweat start to form on his brow and Sean yells out.

"We can't do this all day."

   He wipes the sweat from his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt and removes a shotgun shell from the bandoleer slung across his chest. A glint of light off the brass head of the shell catches his eye. Sean looks at the metal part of the shell and sees a reflection of his face. The curve of the metal distorts the reflection which makes him look younger and he stares into the vision.

[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]

   The sunlight glints off the shell a teen aged Sean holds in one hand. In the other hand a shotgun. The weapon's maple wooden stock is finely decorated with the images of deer and bison. The black coating of the metal is mint and it does its job to protect the gun from rusting. Sean wears an orange vest over his camouflage jacket. The chilly wind flows through his short black hair and colorful leaves fall around him.

He instructs. "One round. One shot. Don't miss."

   Sean places the shell into the bolt of the weapon. With a scrap and a click it chambers.  He places the gun into the anxious outstretched hands of a young boy who also wears an orange vest over his camouflage parka.

   The child seats the shotgun against his shoulder. He squints as he looks down the sights of the weapon and lines them up with the target. He places his finger over the trigger and waits. The young boy confident pulls the trigger.

BANG!

    The shotgun kicks like a mule and the boy staggers backward slightly but is able to control its force. Smoke wafts from the barrel as he lowers the weapon.

Sean razes his brother, "You missed Tom." as he grabs for the shotgun in disappointment.

   The young boy looks down the range at the target made to resemble a deer. It is still standing, "Some teacher you are, you're breathing distracted me." Tom punches his brother in the shoulder weakly.

   "If you're gonna be a baby about it then we'll go home." Sean turns with the gun and strides off. The leaves crunch under his footsteps. "You can try again tomorrow when you've matured."

    "Come on let me try again." Tom races after him having to take one and a half steps for each one his brother takes. He catches up with Sean and begins "the dance" as Tom like to call it. Jumping around Sean, he pokes at him and slaps his brothers clothes while repeating. "Once more." Sean's swats at his brothers prodding hands and his annoyance grows. A smile crosses Tom's face and he hastens the pace of the dance and repeats over and over "Once more." Sean cannot take it anymore and stops in his tracks. "Okay!" He holds his hand up his index finger stretched out straight. "One more but if you miss you gotta do my chores for a week."

"A whole week?" Tom's smile disappears and is replaced by a look of apprehension.

"That's the rules." Replies his brother.

Tom thinks about it.

"I knew you're chicken." Sean goads his little brother.

"I am not." Tom retorts fiercely.

    Sean takes a bullet from the pocket of his jacket and chambers the round. He hands the shotgun to Tom and taunts.

"One round. One shot. Don't miss!"

   "I won't!" Tom's anger shows. He hurries as he seats the shotgun to his shoulder, levels the weapon, breaths deeply, aims and exhales as he pulls the trigger.

BANG!

   "You rushed." Sean shakes his head in disapproval. "One week." He takes the shotgun and places it under his arm. His brother hangs his head and kicks at the dirt in front of him in disgust. Sean walks away. "Let's go momma's probably got dinner waiting." Tom stares at the practice deer and spits on the ground. He turns and runs after his brother.