Hearing the door slam against the wall, both boys ran around the corner. Neither of them knew which one was ahead of the other, from the sound of it it sounded like Four Way Shot's father was in front of Arson's father. They could hear the clicks and scrapes of his spurs hitting up against the asphalt. There was a pier seven yards away and both boys were heading towards it. Neither of them wanted to look back, all they wanted to do was get away from their father's. Arson reached the pier first, when he turned he saw that his brother's father had slipped around the corner, and his father had fallen over his uncle, both were trying to get up.

"Bro, we gotta go down." Four Way Shot yelled.

"I can't," Arson said, looking down at the water. "if I get my flamethrower wet..."

Turning his head, Four Way Shot was already climbing down the ladder down to the water, Arson saw that his father was the first to get up. He might have been twenty-one and three quarter inches, to himself that was giant as he was only twelve inches, but he was fast. Right now he didn't see his father, he saw a raging bull storming towards him. Swallowing hard and grabbing a-hold of the ladder and placing one of his boots down on one of the steps, he raised his hand, it was in a fist except for one finger, he made it clear to his father, letting his father see it. He started climbing down the ladder when his father roared and picked up the pace.

"The water a-comes up to yer waist bro," Four Way Shot said, placing his hands around his brother's waist and helping him down. "hold yer flamin' thang up out o' the way."

Doing as his brother had told him, Arson held his flamethrower above his head. The water came up to his brother's waist, but he was a little shorter and it came almost up to his neck. It was hard to walk through, with every step it felt like he was being tugged back. Closing his eyes and pushing himself along, trying to pick up the pace, he walked right into his brother.

"Climb up," his brother said. "quick!"

Looking back, Arson saw that his father was in the water, it was up to his chest and he was holding his flamethrower up out of the waters reach. His uncle was right behind him, the water came to his waist and it looked like he was walking through the water a lot faster than his father. Grabbing one of the steps, he climbed up. He felt his brother push him from behind.

"Go faster!" he heard his brother shout.

Their father's were gaining, they were almost to the ladder. Skipping a few steps, Arson reached the wooden boards and pulled himself up. His brother was right behind him. The boards were rotten and they creaked, he didn't want to move much but he had no choice. Grabbing his brother's wrist, he pulled him up. Once he was on their pier they started running, their father's had reached the ladder and they were climbing it fast.

"Bro, mah leg is a-hurtin' me." Four Way Shot said, falling back.

"Keep running Four Way!" Arson screamed.

Hearing his brother fall behind him, he stopped and turned around. They were by an old tree, no leaves and no flowers, just a dead old tree with brownish gray limbs. His uncle and father were closing in fast, thinking fast he ran over to his brother and pulled him up. He was walking him to the tree when his father rounded the corner, his uncle in hot pursuit.

"I see our rebel kids have decided to stop." his father said.

"Ye leave mah son to me," his uncle said.

"No problem Six Shooter." his father snarled. "not my responsibility anyways."

His father walked towards him, branching off from his uncle. Placing his brother down at the base of the tree and standing guard over him, he prepared for a fight. His father was only a few feet away when he lit his flamethrower, letting the anger inside of himself out, the hatred and the fear too, he allowed a fireball loose.

Four Way Shot sat with the base of the tree pressed tightly against his back, his mouth dropping in awe. His uncle had stepped to the side, the flames had reached him and his jacket sleeve was on fire but he was unhurt. Hearing a sound to his left he turned, his father was just ten feet away. Pulling himself up and away from the tree, standing shakily, he pulled out one of his guns and fired. His father dodged the bullet and withdrew one if his guns, with a click of the safety he shot the gun he was holding clean out of his hand. His attention on the gun, his father rushed forward and grabbed him around the waist.

"No!" Four Way Shot screamed. "Lemme go!"

"Not on yer life!" his father said, pulling him over his knee.

Hearing his brother scream and cry, Arson turned around, his uncle had him over his knee and he was whipping him, hard! Turning back to his father, seeing that he had pulled out his belt, he screamed. Running forward and slamming himself into his father, trying to flatten him to the ground, Arson snapped his jaw on the belt. His father laughed evilly and wrapped his hand around him, his hand rested on his flamethrower. Thinking that his father intended to break his tool, Arson jumped to the side, twisted and tried running away. His father tightened his hold on his flamethrower, he heard a snap then his flamethrower broke in half. Tripping on his father's boots, Arson fell to the ground. His flamethrower was leaking Butane and there was a small flicker of life at the end of the nozzle. Pulling his head up, looking at his father, he begged him to spare him. He could hear his brother crying still.

Four Way Shot was on his knees, tears running down his eyes, he had been whipped, hard, by his father and he had a feeling he wasn't done disciplining him. Pulling his head up, his face moist and swollen from crying, he looked into the angry eyes of his father. He wished he hadn't ran away now, guilt raced through his body. His leg hurt more now that he had been whipped, he had ripped his knee open again and it was bleeding badly.

"Don't ye even try it!" his father said, anger in his voice.

Arson saw his father raise his foot, thinking he was going to kick him he lowered his head and covered it with his good arm. His flamethrower was totally destroyed, he didn't want to move it. Hearing the ground crunch a few seconds later, he looked up. His father wasn't stomping on him or kicking him, he was crunching the fire at the end of his flamethrower.

"Get up now!" his father said, his eyes glowing brightly.

"And if I don't?" Arson said, fighting the urge to cry.

"I'll yank you up," his father said, kneeling down. "I've already broken your flamethrower don't make me break your arm!"

Doing as his father told him, Arson pulled himself to his feet. He had a feeling that his father had intended to break his flamethrower. Deep in thought about his broken flamethrower, he didn't feel his father wrap his arm around him, pulling him towards his knee and over it. A few seconds in thought turned to pain. He started crying and he tried pulling away from his father. The more he tried, the harder and faster the belt came down and the more he cried.

"That's enuff!" he heard his uncle said. "Lets git our lil' un's home."