Debris by Kevin Hardcastle Page B

double-barrel scattergun and went out to meet them. By the time he had come back inside Matthew had soaked a rag through with spirit, had jammed it into the bottleneck, and was trying to spark it with a barbeque lighter. Paul wrestled the bottle from his brother and cursed him out until Matthew sat down at the kitchen table and put his head in his hands. He was sixteen years old. Paul was just two years older. Later that night they drank the bottle dry, sitting together in the dark waiting for the men to locate their guts and come back. They never did.
    â€œYou miss that house?” Paul said.
    â€œI don’t know. It’s hard to believe I lived in it.”
    â€œWhat’s it like out there where you live?”
    â€œLike Mars.”
    â€œYou gonna ever come back east?”
    â€œI think so.”
    â€œWhen?”
    â€œAs soon as I made enough money to live off the bullshit wages back here. Or as soon as they start throwin’ money at people with grade twelve who can dig the hell out of a pipeline ditch.”
    Paul smiled. Matthew turned to face him.
    â€œYou could live with me when I move back,” he said. “Get a cheap place somewhere in a town that ain’t this one.”
    â€œI like it here.”
    â€œNobody likes it here. Not anybody smart as you.”
    Paul shrugged.
    â€œIn a world that wasn’t so fuckin’ silly,” Matthew said, “I’d be able to stomach being here while you took another run at that college. Even with no money and old enemies gettin’ fat just down the road.”
    Paul nodded but he didn’t say anything. Matthew shifted in his seat. He spat out of the window and hung his head.
    â€œTruth be told, man, this place makes my fuckin’ skin crawl. I don’t feel right until I get ten miles past the township line.”
    Paul backhanded sweat from his brow, wiped his hand on the seat cover.
    â€œThis place wasn’t ever kind to you,” he said.
    Pointing west, Matthew said, “Out there I do okay. I ain’t shit in this town.”
    â€œYou are right now. Trust me.”
    Matthew shook his head.
    â€œOf all the days to be here,” Paul said, “This is the one.”
    He fiddled with some of the levers and knobs on the console. Then he gave the dashboard a whack with his right hand and the air conditioning came on.
    â€œYes,” Matthew said.
    â€œYou want to get out and wait until it cools down?” Paul said.
    Matthew looked at him and then looked past him out of the driver-side window at the fields of highgrass, the hazy outline of pine trees rising from the slope of the mountains to the north.
    â€œNo,” he said. “Let’s get going. He’ll be waiting for us to get there. I don’t want him to have to wait.”
    Paul nodded and put his seatbelt on. Matthew sat back in his seat and shifted some more. He pulled at his shirt and seemed to make it more crooked by trying to fix it. Paul studied his brother for a few seconds, then put the car into gear.
    â€œOkay,” he said.
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    They drove along the single-lane county roads to avoid the traffic, the tourists, and travellers. They passed farms with empty fields and others with crops of corn and soy, new metal silos lit up by the sunlight and old wooden barns gone to rot. They saw very little cattle. There were horses grazing close to the road on one property, one head sticking out through the wire of the perimeter fence, the ears flicking. Soon the car followed the rear boundary of another field. This time the fencing was reinforced by wooden slats, and there were some high sheetmetal walls with barbed wire running along the top. Way off in the distance the field went up a hillside and there were strange shapes moving out there, creatures that were too tall or ran on two long legs, and some with horns that no animal from that part of the world should have. Matthew mouthed a profanity and squinted as he tried to