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01.
He found a rat.
Its limbs were broken, its snout ripped from its skull, and its stomach was cut open, organs replaced with mud and small leaves.
Jake threw up his breakfast beside the porch, his small hands gripping the wooden railing to the point he could feel little pieces of wood piercing the blistered flesh of his palms.
Tracy and his father were in town, Troy was up in his room doing work assigned by his tutor and Jake was getting ready to head to his soccer practice. His jersey was now ruined with his puke and the sight of it made bile fill his throat again.
He used the newspaper left on his father’s rocking chair to scoop up the rat and throw it into the compost bin with a gag, the newspaper had blood smeared on it so he threw it in too.
He wiped his mouth with his shoulder, the sour taste still coating his tongue and his teeth.
He angrily entered the house, his cleats creating a silly noise that echoed throughout the house as he made his way upstairs.
“Troy!” He shouted, not bothering to knock when he pushed open his brother’s door.
His room was small, he had posters of movies he’d never seen and a pile of books Jake gave him he’d never read. His bed was unmade and he had papers scattered across his desk from the doodles he called schoolwork. Troy was small for his age, he was ten and stood about four foot seven, he was much shorter than Jake was.
Troy just turned and smiled, his canine was just starting to grow back in.
“I thought you were leaving to see Jessica ,” Troy said, the way he said her name made Jake’s cheeks flush even though he was pissed.
Jake just approached Troy, grabbing him by the back of his neck like he was scruffing a cat, and dragged him out of his room.
“Hey! Let go! This isn’t funny!” Troy shouted, his voice cracking as he tried to pull away from Jake who simply got a better grip, his thumb digging into his brother's neck.
Jake pushed open the screen door and yanked Troy with him, he kept his grip even as his brother tripped over the last step onto the dirt where his sweatpants dragged in the mud from that morning's rain.
“Jake, stop it!” Troy whined, gripping Jake’s dirty jersey and stretching the material in his little fists. “Let go!”
Jake opened the compost bin and just the sight of the bloody newspaper and the defiled rat was enough to have him gagging again. Jake shoved his brother’s face toward the thing, like a dog who pissed in the house, all Jake was missing was a stern BAD!
“Let me go!” Troy struggled against Jake’s firm grip.
“What the hell is this?!” Jake shouted, he tried his best to not let puberty overtake his authoritative tone.
Troy’s eyes finally focused on the rat, and he squirmed. “I don’t know!”
Jake held him closer until Troy was balancing on the tips of his toes and his fingers were gripping the rim of the compost bin. “What the hell is this?!” Jake shouted again, this time his voice cracked in a way that would normally have him blushing but this time he didn’t even notice it.
“What did you do?!” Jake shouted even louder, he bared his teeth as Troy squirmed and attempted to throw his foot back at his brother when Jake pushed his face closer to the rat.
“I’m sorry!” Troy screamed, he sounded like he was on the verge of tears.
“Why?” Jake asked, his hand still firm against Troy’s neck but he didn’t push him anymore, just holding him a few inches from the animal.
“I-I found it in my room! You and Dad always go hunting! You guys won’t take me!” Troy said, white-knuckling the compost bin’s rim. He was deflecting.
“This isn’t the same!”
“Yes, it is!”
Jake squeezed the back of Troy’s neck before he let go, watching the boy stumble back away from the compost, holding his nape with his hand. He looked at Jake with anger, with resentment.
Troy threw his little body at him, pushing him as hard as he could but Jake caught his wrists and Troy whimpered at the pressure. There were tears in his eyes and Jake thought, at least he has the decency to look ashamed .
“Don’t tell Dad…” Troy whispered, pulling his hands away and cradling them to his chest.
“Troy…” was all Jake could say, he didn’t know what he was supposed to do.
“Please, Jake,” Troy begged.
Jake pointed a finger at him before he said firmly, “Don’t do it again.”
Troy nodded, rubbing his wrists, a tear fell from his eye and rolled down to meet his wobbling chin. And Jake’s heart broke. He bit his cheek before he wrapped his arms around Troy and pulled him close. “I won’t tell Dad,” he promised, pressing a kiss to the top of his brother’s head when his arms wrapped around his middle.
“I just wanted to know what it felt like…” Troy admitted in a whisper against his chest and it made Jake pull him closer. He wanted to ask what he felt. Was it remorse? Disgust? Apprehension? Or did he enjoy it? Did he enjoy the feeling of the bones snapping under his nimble fingers? The warmth of blood coating his palms? The first cut?
Jake held Troy tight, closing his eyes as he buried his nose in his brother's hair because he already knew the answer.
02.
Tracy died on a Monday.
The sky was blue and the sun was bright, there was a songbird on the porch and good news on the TV. But in the next room, Tracy lay still.
Troy was twelve, he was taller than Jake was at his age and he told Jake all the time that one day he’d tower over him. Jake always rolled his eyes but he believed him.
The paramedics arrived at noon.
Jake could hear them talking on the porch about how tight their receptionist must be and how that day she was wearing a thong you couldn’t see through her pencil skirt. The other one said she was just asking for it.
The funeral was held on a Wednesday.
Jake wore the same suit he would be taking his girlfriend to prom in that spring and a tie his father lent him that had JEREMIAH OTTO stitched into the tail like someone was going to steal it.
Troy wore a suit as well but his black socks peaked from under the legs and when he walked you could tell rolling his shoulder would break the seams.
Troy hadn’t cried.
Jake was expecting tears, for them to spill over into blubbering that their father would smack him over, but Troy just didn’t cry.
During the service, he held Troy’s hand even though his brother kept whispering that he wasn’t a baby, Jake knew he appreciated the action regardless.
The priest was one of their father’s friends. Jake didn’t like him, he always spewed his disgusting views whenever their dad invited him over to dinner and he always stared at Tracy’s ass when she collected dishes to wash while they all talked about manly things because they were men and that’s what you do. Jake’s girlfriend once told him the priest made a pass at her one day after Sunday school while drinking vodka out of a water bottle.
The priest's fingers were yellow from smoking and the way his fingers anxiously tapped against his thigh made it seem like he was dying to smoke a whole pack as their father gave a short speech on his beautiful wife and the mother of Troy and completely ignored the last few years where she used concealer to cover up her bruised lips and wrists just so they could go out.
Jake continued to hold Troy’s hand throughout the service and when Troy got up to view his mother, Jake caught his arm by the sleeve.
“Want me to go with you?” Jake whispered.
Troy pulled his arm away, “I’m not a baby.”
Jake frowned but he nodded, “I know you aren’t.”
He watched Troy approach the coffin, watched the way his slacks awkwardly tugged up with each step he took, the way his curls bounced around his ears with the movement, and the way his cheeks flushed knowing all eyes were on him.
Jake watched his brother say something into the coffin, watched the way his hands white-knuckled on the wooded rim. Troy stood there a moment longer than was deemed necessary.
“Go get your brother,” their father said to him in that disgruntled tone he always had when Troy was the subject.
Jake nodded and he slowly approached his brother, placing a perturbed hand on his upper back, his fingers gently petting over the tight material of his jacket.
“You okay?” Jake whispered, leaning close enough for his nose to brush a stray curl.
Troy was frozen, his hands still white-knuckling the coffin. Jake looked over and it was the first time he had seen her, really seen her since she died. Her makeup looked caked and uneven, her lipstick was a shade she would have said was for sluts and she was wearing that necklace she always hated.
Jake took one of Troy’s hands and didn’t say anything when his brother's grip was hard enough to crack his knuckles. Behind them was their family they hadn’t seen in years and would probably never see again, Tracy’s younger estranged brother and his husband sat in the front row with their son they had adopted the year prior alongside a few of Troy’s extended family close enough Jake could hear their whispering and he knew Troy could too.
“Want to go outside?” Jake asked softly, his fingers scratching Troy’s back to try and get his attention.
Troy seemed to hesitate for a moment but he nodded, his grip loosened on the coffin and he let Jake lead him down the steps and away from prying eyes just as Tracy’s brother took the stand to talk about how wonderful his sister was despite the fact she called him ungodly and a sinner.
Once in the parking lot, Troy immediately tugged off his tie and his jacket, letting the pair fall to the gravel as he sat on a curb. Above him, the large church cross cast a shadow over his form.
Jake sat beside him, loosening his tie as well but he let it hang around his neck. Jake put an arm around Troy’s shoulders and pulled him close. “You okay?” Jake asked, ignoring how Troy leaned against him.
“I hate her,” Troy said.
Jake sighed. “No, you don’t…”
“I do, I hate her, I hate her, I hate her,” Troy began to blubber, using his fists to wipe the tears from his eyes but it only made the whites redder and his cheeks angry.
“You don’t hate her, Troy,” Jake whispered, pulling him close to his chest, not caring about the tears or snot that smeared against his shoulder.
Troy just nodded, his hands gripped onto Jake’s jacket. He sobbed for what felt like hours, Jake gently rubbed Troy’s back and he felt like they were five years younger and their father just finished off his fifth glass of scotch. Jake pressed a kiss to Troy’s temple, he lingered.
“You don’t hate her,” Jake said, he held onto Troy as he began to calm down, he wiped his eyes harshly again and he pulled away. Jake offered a small smile and bumped his shoulder against Troy’s trying to offer some sort of buffer.
The church bells rang and Tracy still lay dead.
03.
Their father hit Troy hard across the face.
Jake was getting ready to tell Troy he was leaving for college soon, that they wouldn’t see each other for a year but he would make sure to call at least once a week.
Jake had been in town for an hour meeting with some of the guys he was going to be renting an apartment with, guys he could never bring around his father because he knew he would never hear the end of it.
Troy was seventeen now, his head was shaved and he stood just over six feet even though he looked so much smaller as he cradled his reddening cheek with his hands, wincing when their father hit him again across the other cheek.
“Dad!” Jake said loudly, he started to take a step towards his brother but then his father pointed a finger at him, he smelt like liquor.
“Your brother has been babied enough,” his father said firmly, his arm lowering before he walked back to his study.
Jake looked at Troy, a small frown forming on his face when he heard his brother’s rapid breathing. “Troy…” Jake tried gently, like he was approaching a wild animal, or like Troy was a baby again and Tracy was setting his baby brother in his arms for the first time.
Troy turned with a huff and went to his room, his socked feet still thudding against the stairs before the door to his room slammed shut.
Jake knew if he didn’t follow he would have to face their father, that he would have to face a drunken Jeremiah Otto. So he sighed and followed after Troy, he knocked gently on the door. Their father had taken the lock away over the summer, Jake wasn’t sure why, but if he had to guess it would be because of the Men’s Health and Fitness magazines Troy had shoved at the bottom of his nightstand and his nearly empty lotion, but he didn’t want to ask.
Troy didn’t respond so he knocked again.
“What?” Troy called out, his voice was watery and sour.
“It’s me,” Jake said, his hand resting on the doorknob.
Troy seemed to hesitate and Jake was really not looking forward to packing knowing his brother was in his room hiding.
“Come in,” Troy said in a voice so low Jake almost didn’t catch it.
When Jake opened the door, he was surprised to see Troy’s curtains drawn, to see his room so warmly lit even if his brother sat on the edge of his bed looking at the floor. Jake sighed and approached, he dragged Troy’s desk chair over to sit in front of him.
“Let me see…” Jake encouraged softly.
Troy lifted his head but his eyes were looking away.
Troy’s cheeks were red his left one already bruising on his jaw where their father’s ring caught bone. His bottom lip was lined with blood from the impact. Jake frowned, he reached forward and tilted his brother’s face the other way so he could examine the right side which seemed to have fared better than the left.
Jake dropped his hand.
“What’d you do?” He asked with a sigh.
Troy looked down at his lap, he didn’t try to act innocent. “I took one of his rifles.”
Jake’s lips parted in surprise. “Why?”
Troy shrugged and he fiddled with a loose string on his shirt. He looked more like a little boy than a man on the cusp of adulthood. “He said he was going to show me how to shoot it, but he found a box of pictures of my mom and your mom and he found a stashed bottle, and– and…” Troy waved a hand like it communicated something unspoken but Jake just stared at him with furrowed brows. “And there were rabbits in the garden eating the fronds and the flowers… I thought I’d try and at least see if I was any good.”
Jake sighed and pushed his index finger and his thumb into his brows. “You know how Dad is about his guns…”
“I know, but…” Troy didn’t even bother to finish his thought, he wiped his mouth with his hand, licking his lips to try and get rid of the drying blood.
“Did you at least hit a rabbit?” Jake asked a little too gently like he was talking to a child.
“No… The gun went off and hit the dirt… Knocked me on my ass,” he mumbled begrudgingly. “Thought it was the varmiant rifle…”
Jake smiled and he hid it by ducking his head. “I’m sorry.”
Troy kicked his foot out, his heel hitting the floor with a thud. “I wish Dad still took us to target practice…” Troy grumbled, pouting a little like it was his only way of defiance.
Jake laughed, memories of them standing out in the sun because their father wouldn’t let them go inside until one of them hit a beer can, their skin burning and blistering in the heat filled his mind. Nostalgia clouded them though, making them sweeter than they were, like how Tracy brought them lemonade or how their father cheered when Jake finally nailed the beer can over the fence.
“Hey, maybe Dad doesn’t have to go,” Jake started, flicking Troy’s knee. “Let’s do it this weekend, Dad’s going to the market to try and sell some old crap in the basement, I’ll take you to the field and set up some cans or something.”
Troy seemed to light up, his blue eyes wide with a childlike wonder Jake thought their father beat out of him years ago. “Swear?”
Jake smiled, his face softening a little, he knew he still had to tell Troy he was leaving, that he’d have to explain that he wasn’t abandoning him through a slammed door, but for now, he’d be the brother Troy needed. “Swear.”
04.
Jake went home just before his twenty-fourth birthday, Jeremiah had fallen down the steps of the porch, and even with the short distance, he somehow still dislocated his shoulder and sprained an ankle. He shouted slurs and vulgarities at the nurse Jake didn’t even know existed, he would rip off his sling and insist he was fine even though he let out a bark of pain anytime he attempted to take a step.
It wasn’t how Jake wanted to come home. He was two years into a four-year program and he knew that leaving so abruptly would not fare well for him, he was already planning on going home for the summer but there he was, blowing money he didn’t have to sit on a plane for six hours next to two snoring men.
Troy stood in the doorway, his hair long like when he was a boy, curling under his ears and over his temples. He looked good, healthy even, he looked like a man and not the little brother he ghosted for two years.
Troy didn’t look angry, or upset, more so ambivalent.
Troy was nineteen, and in a few months he would be twenty, he hadn’t grown in two years and Jake was glad, he didn’t need the height.
Jake felt bad, it was one thing having to deal with the guilt of abandoning your brother but it was another when he hugged you the way he used to when you were kids, pressing his nose into the crook of your neck searching for something familiar and rubbing circles into his back because that’s what you always did.
Their father was out like a light on some medication the doctor prescribed and when the nurse was getting ready to go home, Jake apologized profusely, even when she pretended not to speak English.
Jake made scrambled eggs for dinner, sliding a plate in front of Troy who had watched him warily the whole time, but he thanked him regardless. Jake sat in front of him at the dining table, he knew that conversation would lead to him leaving, so he prompted: “How’s Dad been?”
Troy looked up at him, squeezing ketchup onto his plate. “Fine.”
Jake frowned and took a bite of his eggs, poking at them for a moment. “How have you been?”
Troy ate a bit of his ketchup-covered eggs before finally answering, “Fine.”
Jake washed dishes and Troy still watched, it put Jake on edge.
“You know, I’m mad at you,” Troy stated simply, like he was willing to have his mind changed.
Jake dried his hands with a hand towel. “Look, I’m sorry, I am,” Jake said with a sigh because he didn’t know how to change Troy’s mind.
Troy looked away. “Are you gonna be here for your birthday?”
Jake leaned against the sink, his palms resting heavily on the porcelain. He didn’t know. “Look… Troy…”
“Come on, Jake, I’m not a child, just yes or no,” Troy said, his voice firm and steady. He really was a man now.
“No,” Jake said, his voice heavy.
Troy frowned and shrugged. “Do you want your birthday present now or should I send it to you?”
Jake knew that this question was a trick, that either way Troy would be upset.
“Dealer’s choice,” Jake said, a small smile on his face but it was a little forced.
“Now,” Troy said, he disappeared without another word, the stairs creaking under his weight.
Jake sat at the dining table, staring at the hallway waiting for his brother's reappearance. He was a little nervous even when Troy’s feet patted down the stairs. Troy sat before placing the poorly wrapped present on the table.
Jake took it and examined the wrapping paper, there were little cartoony Santas and reindeer on it and Jake wondered how far in the attic Troy had to search to find it. Jake sighed, ignoring his brother’s stare as he ripped the paper, pushing it away.
In his hands sat a leather-bound notebook, there was a small scratch on the cover that he ran over with his thumb. “Wow,” Jake whispered, opening the notebook and fanning it over his face so he could smell the pages. “Thank you, really.”
Troy shrugged, he looked a little anxious. “Figured you have to impress the bigwigs with something.”
“What? Are my smarts suddenly not good enough?”
“What smarts?”
Jake laughed, he reached across the table and gently hit Troy’s head with the notebook before settling back. His face softened before he said, “Thank you, Troy.”
Troy shrugged again, he seemed to have shrunk back into himself. “No problem.”
Jake couldn’t stop the sad smile on his face as he looked down at the notebook. “Are you mad at me still?”
He could hear Troy shift. “Yeah…” there sounded like there was more so Jake looked up and found Troy already looking.
“Yeah?” Jake asked, a small frown on his face, he didn’t want to push but he wanted to know what Troy was going to say.
“I’m mad at you, I’m pissed at you,” Troy said but his words sounded tired, like he had cursed him a million times behind his back.
“I know… I’m sorry,” Jake tried.
“No you’re not, you don’t regret leaving, I can see it on your face.”
“I–I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“...I don’t know either.”
Jake sighed and reached across the table, he pulled at Troy’s index finger with a small smile. “I’ll call when I get back,” he promises.
Troy pulled his hand away. “I’m not a child,” Troy said and Jake was starting to think Troy was trying to convince himself more than anyone else.
“I know, you’re an adult, not a baby,” Jake said.
“Can you send cards too?” Troy asked softly.
Jake smiled. “I’ll send you and Dad a care package.”
Troy seemed to light up at this, he reached over and tugged Jake’s finger as if to tease him. There was a gentle look on his face, one Jake hadn’t seen in years. “I’ll come over there and hunt you down if you don’t.”
Jake would find a rabbit in the field before he left, he would have to put the thing down before purging the contents of his breakfast and wash his hands until the blood would disappear from under his nails, but for now, he laughed at his brother’s threat and nodded, his smile widening when Troy joined in.
05.
Troy stood outside Jake’s door, he had made sure Alicia or Nick weren’t there before he knocked. He knew he could just walk in if he wanted, that Jake would probably just make a comment or at the worst yell, but he decided to at least give him the courtesy of a knock, even if deep down he was itching to just open the door.
“Who is it?” Jake called, he sounded tired and upset.
“It’s me,” Troy said, his fingers already wrapping around the handle as he waited for permission.
“Come in.”
Troy opened the door, scrunching his nose at the stale air and closed curtains. “Jesus,” he mumbled.
Jake was on the couch, a throw blanket over his lap as he looked up at Troy, dark bruises forming under his eyes as the cut across his hairline swelled. He looked like shit.
“Did you need something?” Jake asked, his voice low.
Troy shrugged, he walked over slowly and sat on the coffee table his bottom lip trapped between his teeth. “Seeing how you were doing,” Troy mumbled.
Jake scoffed and it pissed Troy off.
“What?” Troy asked scornfully.
“Since when are you coming to see if I’m okay?”
“Don’t be a dick.”
Jake rolled his eyes and settled into the couch more, pulling the blanket around his waist more. Troy couldn’t believe that this was his brother, that the man in front of him was someone he looked up to or even admired. His fingers twitched on his knee.
“How’s the Clark girl?” Troy asked, just trying to fill the air with anything.
Jake looks at him and narrows his eyes. “Alicia.”
Troy sighed. “How’s Alicia ?”
“She’s fine… How’s Nick?”
Troy’s cheeks burned. “Shut up.”
Jake scoffed and the way he looked at him made Troy feel like he was trapped. Jake turned away and Troy could see how bad the bruising on his jaw was. “How’s it feel?” Troy questioned, clearing his throat and trying to ignore how his fingers ached at the mention of Nick.
Jake made a small noise. “It hurts.”
“Need me to get you anything?” Troy asked, his voice a lot more gentle than it needed to be.
Jake looked at him. “I’ll be fine.”
“At least you’ll have a badass scar,” Troy smiled when Jake sneered.
“I think a badass scar is the least of my worries right now,” Jake mumbled and Troy looked away, slumping a little and leaning into his knees.
“Stop moping,” Troy said, he reached out and patted Jake’s calf, frowning when Jake swatted his hand away.
“I can mope all I want, go away,” Jake turned onto the couch and crossed his arms.
Troy’s jaw clicked as he gibed, “Man up.”
Jake looked at him, “You sound like Dad.”
Troy did, he had heard those exact words over the years, whether from being scruffed and thrown into the basement or beaten until their dad got bored, he had heard it a million times. Troy wanted to rebuttal, to tell Jake to go fuck himself or make a nasty comment about Alicia just to get a rise out of him, but he didn’t. “Sorry,” Troy mumbled, rubbing a hand over his face.
There was silence before Jake sat back up, seeming to realize how much his words mean. “Thanks.”
“For what?” Troy arched a brow.
“For coming to check up on me.”
Troy scoffed and patted Jake’s knee. “Whatever.”
Jake smiled, it was small but it made him look normal again. Troy was starting to forget what he looked like.
“So… Nick, huh?” Jake asked, his smile turning teasing.
“Shut up,” Troy mumbled.
Jake rolled his eyes. “Oh come on.”
Troy sneered. “I don’t care how mopey you are, I’ll beat you up.”
Jake laughed. “Don’t be like that.”
But Troy was already pushing Jake, a lot harder than he should have but Jake was standing, the blanket falling from his lap as he wrapped an arm around Troy’s neck like when they were kids. Troy put his hand on Jake’s back and attempted to pick him up with his other hand, only lifting one leg before Jake fell between the couch and the coffee table, pulling Troy down with him.
Troy groaned as his elbow hit the floor but Jake just pushed him until they were both sitting. Troy leaned against the coffee table and watched his brother as if examining him.
Jake smiled, panting a little as he reached out and let his hand rest on Troy’s knee.
“I do love you, you know… Even if you are an asshole,” Jake said and Troy couldn’t help the way his chest squeezed.
“Yeah,” Troy mumbled. “I love you too… Even if you’re a dick.”
Jake let out a light laugh, ducking his head and all Troy could do was watch, wondering which of them was going to die first.
+01.
How do you tell your brother he is going to die? How do you tell the one person who has ever been anything in your life that he is going to die? How do you tell him he’s going to die when he already knows?
Troy held Jake close to himself like maybe his own erratic heart rate may level out Jake’s, like maybe Jake might magically become better if he gave him warmth even if he knew he was just being childish.
Nick drove the truck but it was fruitless, Jake was already dead, his handsome features now paled and sunken in the moments before reanimation took hold. Troy knew Jake was gone before his heart stopped, before he was bit, before the horde, he knew people like Jake wouldn’t last long in the new world order, he knew… he just…
Jake wouldn’t get a proper burial. He wouldn’t get a eulogy or have Alicia crying over his casket wishing she had more time or have Troy take the stand with a piece of paper he couldn’t read through blurred vision because his ambivalent facade disappeared the second he saw his brother caked in makeup the way his mom was.
“My brother was…” But how would he even continue? How do you say goodbye to your brother? How do you put him in the earth knowing you never told him you loved him enough? How do you kill him?
It didn’t matter, not really at least, because Troy’s hand was blocking the sun from Jake’s dead eyes, the tip of his knife digging into his skull while his jaw clicked with every attempt to bite.
The knife went in easy, Troy was getting good at that to say the very least, it was taking it out that was hard, wiping it off knowing Jake was really gone.
Nick’s eyes were on him and he hated it, hated the attention, the scrutiny. It wasn’t Jake’s time, he didn’t deserve any of this and Troy just wanted him to sit up, to smile or laugh and say something silly, but Jake remained still, his jaw slack and his eyes looking at nothing like it was everything.
How do you leave your brother to burn under the midday sun?