American Greed

Just as the refugees rallied to barricade the barn doors, the upper half of the silo lurched further towards the ground, sending a metallic screech through the air. Precariously leaning onto the roof of the barn, the silo threatened to push the roof deeper into the room. Despite the grating clangor of metal-on-metal, the three survivors seemed unshaken from their duties; in fact, any noise that drowned out the chants of the encroaching mob was more than welcome. Jason, leading the charge, pried the last piece of loose wood from the floorboards, leveraging it against the shaking barn doors. It seemed that for every entrance barricaded, another one took its place, and the three survivors were growing weary. Drawing in another ragged breath, Dmitri inspected his blood-soaked compatriots; this was no fitting end for his family name. Wiping the blood from his hands, Dmitri began to climb up to the rafters. In the darkest corner of the barn, Miriam quietly slid a small silver pendant back into her coat pocket, keeping a close eye on the other two men.

After a time, the barn doors ceased their shaking, finally allowing Jason to succumb to his fatigue. His brother’s sudden collapse onto the floor had rattled Dmitri’s spirit, but not long enough to drag his attention from the sagging roof. “Ain’t no time for resting!” Dmitri cried out to the others, bolstering his own resolve in the process. Seemingly noting how effective this motivation was, Dmitri continued to scream encouragements, propping wooden planks against the sinking roof with vigor. Miriam stood at the rear windows of the barn, peeking through cracks to catch another glimpse of their attackers. The moonlight revealed only the bodies of their cattle, or what remained of them; further on, hordes of human figures lingered in the encroaching darkness. Is this my punishment? Stepping back from the wall, Miriam decided that there was no real purpose to spotting them. She knew why they, why anybody, would be outside. Patting her coat pocket, she returned to her brothers, finding renewed purpose in ceasing Dmitri’s inane rambling.

“Enough! There’s no need for your gibberish. Get down here and help your brother!” Miriam scolded Dmitri, who was now suspended from the rafters. His concentration broken by Miriam, Dmitri loosened his hands from the ceiling, allowing the roof above him to surge further downwards, and sending the battered brother to the ground amidst a heap of wooden rubble. It was only now, admittedly too late, that the reality of the situation began to dawn on the band of siblings, each finding themselves clinging to a different thought.

Miriam, until now confident in her choice to keep the pendant in her possession, began to question the authenticity of her buyer. Could it be worth this? She thought back to the strange man who had sold her the piece, promising unending riches if she could keep it safe for just a night. Only one night. Perhaps there’s a lesson to be learned. Miriam shrugged the rest of the concerns off of her shoulders. Now was not the time for reflection.

Jason awoke just as shards of dislodged timber and rubble peppered the ground around him. That can’t be a good sign. Forcing himself to inspect his hands and body for damages, the eldest son began to toy with the silver ring around his bloody finger. The inscription had bugged him ever since he was young, prophetic and discomforting in equal measure. Wrath Kills The Watchful King. How Ironic, Dad. Jason had always held a penchant for hostility, but the consequences, if any, were meager. They murdered our livestock. An act of war. Of tyranny. However justified his anger may have been, he hadn’t intended for his siblings to get caught up in any conflict, but his overplaced confidence once again threatened the lives of those who didn’t deserve it. The ring scolded Jason, the words merely a vessel for his father’s anger. Shame turns to anger, and anger turns to resignation. If I am to die, I will face it just as you did, Father. Finding even the smallest bit of comfort in this relegation, Jason subdued his concern, only to find it replaced with fatigue.

Dmitri was dismayed to learn that once more, there was blood on his hands. Maybe this is a metaphor? He posited, though it was dubious that Dmitri fully understood what a metaphor was. Those cattle needed to die. Right? Dmitri tried to shake the thoughts out of his head, but they lingered on anyway. After all, the youngest brother wasn’t sure who’s blood stained his palms. It was a hefty promise. Perhaps it will still come true. He fell back into daydreaming, conjuring images of the angelic woman who had promised her hand for a paltry sum, a sum that now lay rotting in the yard just outside the barn. Was it worth it? For love? For her? Before he could reflect any further, another portion of the rafters fell just before his feet.

The collapsing silo was now visible from within the barn. It pressed further into the room, sending the siblings scrambling across the uprooted floor towards the barricaded door. For a time, the chants of the combatants outside had been silenced by the crumbling homestead, but the chorus of condemnation seemed to flare up once more. Sensing a certain doom, the three siblings united in desperation, scrambling across shrapnel and dirt to press themselves against the barricades.

Jason spotted only three remaining bracing planks holding the silo aloft. “We don’t have much time before this whole place goes down. Does anyone have a way out of this?” Jason yelled, overcoming the clamoring audience awaiting them just beyond the door. Miriam reached into her coat pocket, intent on confessing the origin of the pendant, but was stopped short by Dmitri. Falling to his knees, the youngest brother apologized profusely through gasping breaths. “I didn’t... I wanted to...they had to die!” Jason encouraged his brother to finish the confession, while Miriam slid her hand out of the coat pocket. Now is not the time, she thought. Jason continued to plead with Dmitri, who refused to break eye contact from his bloodied palms. “Hawkins,” Dmitri whispered, pointing a shaky finger towards the barred window, and sank lower towards the ground. Jason didn’t need to check the window; the smell of corpses and rotting meat had worn his spirit away since they sought refuge hours ago. The three stepped back from each other, taking a moment to digest the new information. Even in the midst of such chaos, the silence felt louder than the noise.

“Hawkins? Like, the Hawkins family?” Jason questioned his brother. Jason’s anger was masked only by the dirt and dust plastered to his face. Miriam, on the other hand, could hardly contain her delight. “Cast him to the wolves!” She cackled in the face of her brothers, and leapt back again onto a small pile of rubble. She pointed at Dmitri, letting the smile on her face reign free. “He’s betrayed us! Jason, can you not see that he’s the cause of all of this?” Miriam gestured around her. Jason nodded meekly, not returning the same jovial expression. He’s as guilty as I am. Jason’s expression shifted back to concern. He turned to face Miriam once more. “We’re not sending him to die. He’s our brother,” Jason asserted. Dmitri wiped the tears from his cheeks, and stood at his brother’s shoulder. His face contorted in fury, and he clenched his fists, sending droplets of blood to his feet.

“You would’ve sent me to die like an animal,” Dmitri claiming through clenched teeth. “Like one of our cattle.” Retrieving a stone from the ground near him, he chucked it at his sister. Just as Miriam dodged the projectile, Dmitri charged her, sending both of them to the ground in a haze of dust. Flying from her coat pocket, the pendant landed square in the center of the three siblings. Jason stepped forward to stop his family, but was instead distracted by the glittering piece in front of him. He recognized it immediately.

This can’t be the one. Jason sighed. He lifted it gingerly, handling the silver chain carefully. On the back, the inscription confirmed his worst fears. Property of Sarah Anne Hawkins. Great. Jason pocketed the necklace, and stepped towards his brother, who now landed blow after blow into Miriam’s skull. Throwing Dmitri to the side, Jason’s vacant expression worried the two kids more than his fists ever could. He held the necklace out with one hand, unmoving, expressionless. Dmitri, rising to his feet, immediately recognized the necklace, recalling it resting on the chest of his beloved admirer. The three remained still, save for Miriam’s shaky hands wiping the blood from her face. Above them, the silo sent another fastened plank to the ground.

Outside, the crowd grew increasingly restless. Confident that the falling silo would send the three culprits fleeing into the open, they stood resolute. Sarah Anne Hawkins pressed her hands against her chest, where her cherished necklace would have once resided. Around her, militia members positioned themselves shoulder-to-shoulder, taking aim at the front door.

“Everything I did, I did for us,” Despite the impassioned cries, Dmitri’s words fell on deaf ears. “We were meant to be! I could have brought us peace!” He pointed a limp hand towards Miriam, scraping her hands across the ground as she struggled to stand; “Her. She has sent us to our early graves, in this rotting barn!” Jason remained motionless, but Dmitri couldn’t identify the emotion behind his vacant stare. With a lack of eyes on her, it was at this moment that Miriam took the chance to strike, sending a sharp piece of lumber through Jason’s leg. She swiped the pendant from his hand, throwing herself into his body, and sending them both back onto the ground. Above them, the final piece of rafters began to shift under the weight of the silo. Dmitri stepped back from his siblings, checked the caving roof, and approached the barn doors. In a feat of strength, he ripped the planks that barred their exit, and thrust himself through to the outside. Behind him, a final piece of the rafters fell, and the silo began its final descent.

Once the dust had settled across the farmstead, silence travelled across the plains. Sarah Hawkins stepped forward cautiously, overstepping the man who had once promised the lives of his cattle for her love. She progressed towards the mountain of rubble, somber and dull save for a single glimmer. A bloodied hand, characterized only by a single silver ring, clutched her prized silver pendant above the mass of wood and steel. Prying the piece from the unmoving hand, she stepped back from the pile. Had she continued forwards, she might’ve seen the dusted coat that lay above the pile. In the distance, a battered woman began her long descent into the night.