Noah stood at the foot of the porch, examining the dilapidated colonial home. Its yellow paint had all but peeled off, giving way to its wood paneling, which was gray from years of exposure.
Noah scooped up a handful of gravel and tossed it at the house. The pebbles clattered against the front door. After a moment, he thought he saw one of the curtains shudder. A minute later the door cracked open.
“You livin'?” said a raspy voice. “Say somethin’ if y'ar.”
“Of course I am.”
The door opened revealing Jimmy Bartlett, eldest of the Bartlett brood. He wore a ratty white t-shirt with equally ratty blue jeans. The jeans, like his beat-up Carhartt boots, were splotched with paint of every shade.
A small, red-haired girl peered out from behind him. She looked about twice Abby’s age, leading Noah to presume that this was the sister Alvin had mentioned. He had said that Abby reminded him of her, but as the girl cowered behind her big brother like a frightened rabbit, Noah saw no resemblance. Abby was fearless. Or at least she was until Alvin got to her, he thought.
“What do you want?” asked Jimmy. “We ain’t got any food.”
“Did Alvin make it here?”
He crossed his arms. “Maybe.”
“How many of your family survived?”
“Not enough.”
“If Alvin is here, send him out. I have business with him.”
“And what's that?”
“It's personal.”
“You got business with one Bartlett, you got business with all of 'em.”
Noah’s brow narrowed. His lips pursed. “He…,” Noah hesitated. It was difficult to verbalize. “He touched my sister and got me away from my family. They’re dead because of him.”
“If he didn't kill ‘em, then he didn't kill 'em.” Jimmy spat chewing tobacco onto the lawn. “As for your sister, I don’t give a damn who Al shacks up with.”
“My sister was seven years old, you inbred hick.”
The girl recoiled behind her big brother. Jimmy lowered his eyes and shook his head. “God damn-it, Al,” he muttered.
“Yes, god damn-it, Al. Now send him out.”
“You don't have to worry about him. We'll take care of it.”
“No. I'm the one he has to answer to. I'm the only one who can hold him accountable for what he's done.”
“I said we'll take care of it. Now you just wander back to wherever it is you came from.”
“There's nothing to go back to! Don't you get it?” Shouted Noah. “He destroyed everything! And I'm not leaving until I settle it.”
Just then Jimmy was brushed aside by his younger brother, Dakota, who strode up to the edge of the porch with a Remington 870 shotgun in hand. Dakota jerked his head back, whipping his long black hair out of his face, and aimed the gun at Noah.
“He said get! Ya hear? Now go before I put a wad of buckshot in yer ass!”
Noah took a step back. “If you chase me away now, you’ll regret it.”
Dakota fired. A patch of grass a few feet from where Noah stood jumped into the air.
“Jesus, Koty!” said Jimmy. “You’re gonna bring ‘em all here!”
Noah backed away. The Bartletts were notorious for being a lawless brood, and that was back when there was actual rule of law. Who knew how far they would go now that any punitive threat was virtually nonexistent.
“You've made a mistake,” Noah said before retreating.
“No, you made the mistake, ya damn fool!” Dakota shouted after him. “If I see you again, I’ll kill you!”
The last thing Noah heard was Jimmy tell Dakota to shut up before dragging him back inside the house.
Noah was breathing heavily when he got to the end of the driveway. His body trembled with adrenaline and anger. Alvin was in the house and they were protecting him—he knew it. But how could he beat them now? He had forfeited the element of surprise, and they were protected inside their home.
Moans sounded from nearby. The dead that had been meandering at the end of the street were now close—drawn by his noisy exchange with the Bartletts. Noah dispatched them in seconds.
I should have just let the Bartlett's deal with them, he said to himself. The thought gave him pause. Noah looked to the rusted fence that ran along the bank of the Hydraulic. A crooked smile spread across his face.
He bolted, disappearing into the nearest backyard.
Alvin lay in bed with his back propped-up on a pillow. His body wrenched as he tore into a coughing fit. When the coughing subsided, he winced in pain and gently rubbed the bandage, which had been improvised from an old bedsheet, affixed to his side.
Suddenly the door was kicked open, startling him. Jimmy plodded into the room, his face burning red.
“Still can't keep your god-damned hands to yourself, can you?” he yelled.
“Wha—what are you talking about?” Alvin wheezed.
“That family you stayed with? They had a little girl? Seems you forgot to mention that part of the story.”
Beads of sweat began to grease Alvin's forehead. “What—who?”
“Some little punk just showed up, talkin' about how you crossed him.”
Alvin’s eyes bulged. “Noah’s alive?”
“Yeah, he was just here.”
“Come on, Jim, you—you're gonna believe some stranger over your own brother?”
Jimmy sniggered. “If you hadn't done it before, I might not.”
The floorboard creaked. Jimmy turned around to find his sister standing behind him.
“Brandy, get out of here! We're talkin'!”
She ignored his warning and came closer. “Do you think that boy’s gonna come back, Jim?” her voice quavered.
“I said get out!” He shoved her.
She took a few steps backward before falling onto the floor. Brandy scowled. She stood up and ran out of the bedroom.
“What's she mean, ‘come back’?” asked
