Doctors Jack bright (part 1)

1

In the rolling hills of Nebraska, among barbed wire and thistle, the approaching moon watches a young boy on horseback wander through irrigation ditches flooded with water from rusting iron pipes and sweeping swathes of prairie grass. His young brother- unaccustomed to horseback riding and insecure of the dark that surrounds them, the cows, everything unilluminated by his brother's headlamp- finds himself clutching the back of the older's shirt silently, not willing to admit defeat but willing to admit the obvious:

"We're lost." The words squeak out in a prepubescent squeal. He's dark haired, with light olive skin- he is no outdoorsmen by any stretch- and is clearly focused on the dreary situation, intelligent eyes flickering in LED light and cloudy moon glow.

The older is clearly more used to the saddle. He grips the reigns tightly, moves quickly. A good decision maker, but not an inherent problem solver, the red headed boy in cowboy boots and a farmer's tan presses forward in a random, unchosen direction. The property is new to him in many ways, large and all encompassing in all he has ever desired in his short life, but he's young, a child of the prairie, and prone to mistakes. He stays silent. Stubbornness runs in the family.

"We are lost, aren't we?"

"No, I know exactly where we are."

"No you don't."

"Yes I do."

The younger directs his gaze towards the grass. It's a long way down. He knows he could make it if he fell, but isn't about to try falling off a horse. Despite his aversion, he clutches his older brother a little tighter, trusting in his confidence.

They stay silent in his manner for a while, the older directing the horse over hills and through trees. It's not until the moon is full over their heads and the crickets are in full song that the younger breaks from his usual contemplative trance to speak.

"Do you think mom had her baby yet?" Although this was the most interesting event taking place in the duo's plain, in-elaborate lives, there are mixed feelings in the younger's voice. A sister. The three of them- the youngest left with Jamie, the ranch owner, at the farmhouse- were overall neutral to this announcement. Three was enough. Three was a lot. Three was having to share a room and waking up with someone crawling on you and playing with your stuff. Four, however, was another story, as they had discussed in late night conversations over the past nine months. Four, and you're halfway to your own soccer team. And a girl, too.

To prepare for a sister, the three pooled their knowledge of what girls liked. Dolls. Pink things. The oldest had a girl in his class that liked guns, so they added that to the list, just to be safe. They had mutually decided that dolls and pink things were not something they were into, but guns were pretty cool, so maybe it wouldn't be so bad, after all. They debated whether the new baby would be allowed in their fort, which yielded that it was too soon to see where loyalties lie and the vote would have to be postponed to a later date. They considered, briefly, where the baby would sleep, to which they decided that it would be in their parent's bedroom for now, or it would just sleep with the youngest in his bed. As it neared that date, and their parents became more excited about the new arrival, the three shrank away to some extent, experiencing a strange form of melancholy that occurred with the prospect of sharing their lives with a complete stranger.

And now the night was here.

Their mother had arranged for the three of them to spend the night at Jamie's ranch, which the older frequently worked at. The younger- not accustomed to the outdoors and less accustomed to farm work he knew would follow- was less excited at this proposal, but decided to tag along with his brother to heard the cows in on horseback as an alternative to playing Monopoly with Jamie and the youngest. Although the dark haired boy was unfamiliar with manual labor, he would rather work than die of boredom.

And here they were, lost, at night. It was an understatement to call the current middle child bitter.

"I don't know." Scoffed the oldest. "What did mom tell you?"

"Ten." He replied. "Do you know what time it is?"

"How the hell would I know that?"

The middle child shrugged. Usually, the older knew things like that, like how to tell the time with the sun. The horse trekked over another hill, out of the small grove of trees they had traversed.

Suddenly, the older pulled back on the reigns, and the horse stopped abruptly.

"Jack." Mumbled the older. "Look at this."

The younger boy sat up tall, gripping onto his brother for support, and peered over the older's left shoulder.

Moonlight poured over the expanse in front of them, mixing with the sickening artificial light strapped to his older brother's forehead. Grazing in the dark, grass swishing softly on their ankles, stood the herd of cows they had been sent out to herd in. They stood, head to tail, in a singular ring that stretched out of the beam of the headlamp into indistinct dark shapes spreading over half a mile; silent, strange, a herd of 65 in a pristine circular line. No crickets chirped. No frogs sang.

Jack takes in breath, and many miles away in a back country hospital, Claire breathes for the first time, too.

2

It takes the wound a moment to bleed.

There's a moment, as Jack Bright looks out onto the front lawn from behind the dining room table, that everything remains in suspense. Mikell on the pavement, ladder on the roof still. TJ moves his head towards the outside and the world works in slow motion in response to the sound of bone cracking on cement. The body settles. The sun shines.

Mikell on the pavement.

Jack jumps up, but TJ is already on the porch, calling for him halfway outside, old wooden door closing with a thwack. Mikell is still, sleeping, the blood starts coming and fills in the little rivets in the pavement, covers the little rocks and stones like water in a stream with the sun glinting and the summer heat and TJ's red hair shimmering, freckles shining, Mikell on the pavement. The old screen door slams and TJ grabs Mikell's arm and screams.

It takes the wound a moment to bleed.

There's a moment, as Jack Bright, 17, looks out onto the front lawn in front of him, that everything remains in suspense. Mikell on the pavement, ladder on the roof still. TJ moves his head towards the grass, recoiling in pain and confusion.

The early spring sun beats down on the pavement, and strikes the dark blood matting itself in orange hair and soft brown freckles.

Mikell coming around, face an expression of grogginess, then confusion, then alarm. TJ's blood makes the grass sticky, staggering, falling into the grass. The clouds drift by in a slow, cotton ball haze through a sea of pristine blue, and youngest bright son lays still, still, still as the world as he feels his brother's pain.