The leering night atmosphere had steered clear from the weekly bonfire that was hosted on the outskirts of Boulder City Nevada, a moderately small town just over a half hour south from the blaring lights and excitement of the Las Vegas strip. The sin had seeped its way to the youth of the county, it was a rarity to find a sober student at the local high school. The illegitimate son of the local infamous country rock performer, Dune Harley, happened to reside in this town, and co hosts said bonfire parties. Wyatt Harley, a rowdy highschool senior who was part of the social nucleus around the southern end of Nevada.
"Hey mullet man. How's your first Boulder kickback?" Wyatt pushed his weight onto his younger step brother Collin, who was sitting stiffly on a tin oil drum sunken into the sand. Since he had recently started highschool, Wyatt finally let him ride along with him out into the desert after years of begging and several attempts to sneak out in the back of Wyatt's truck.
"It's not a mullet." He huffed and pushed his festive star shaped shade farther up the bridge of his nose. Collin regularly hid his congenital cataracts with dark-lense glasses, matching his varied collection to each occasion.
"I'm just fucking with you, chill." Wyatt laughed and gave him an exaggerated pat on the back. "Stay close to the fire," Wyatt yanked off the hat he had been wearing and pulled it over Collins head, covering his eyes and nose. "Deb wouldn't be too happy if you came back with a cold."
"Hey, hey! Collin, my little broheim." Wyatt's loyal, loose-canonned co-conspirator, Steven McRell had wormed his way into the conversation, laying a heavy arm around Collins shoulders. Disregarding personal space, he reeked of general alcohol and marijuana. But the conversation was cut short as he quickly got distracted by the beckoning scent of bratwursts being grilled in the back of someone's pick up, and weaseled back into the mess of peers.
"Your friends are weird." Collin remarked as he adjusted his shirt and hat after the rough encounter.
"They're your friends too now." Wyatt shot a wide smile to his brother, even though he couldn't witness it. But Collin coincidentally had a subtle smile on his face too after hearing those words. He didn't need to say it, but Wyatt knew he was ecstatic to finally be welcomed into a group and not be alienated for his natural born affliction. Wyatt threw in a "loser" to lighten up from the gushy feelings that had taken over in the conversation.
"Shut up. We all know your the loser here." Collin shot back with an elbow nudge to his brothers side.
Amongst all the body's, no one had noticed a new figure had joined the commotion, an unfamiliar figure. Whoever it was, they definitely did not fit with the crowd, so it was very obvious once they were standing before the fire pit. Everyone could feel the disturbance. Wyatts attention quickly fled from the conversation and immediately spoke up.
"Hey man, this is kind of a private get together, and I don't recognize you." He took a better look to see an aged face underneath a rimmed hat. The dark weathered leather coat he wore was obviously way too big for the man's frame. Waiting for a response, Wyatt turned his full focus and body to face him, and held the air in his lungs to appear more muscular. The man stood there, arms at his side until he lifted one and dove into the folds of his jacket. "You gotta leave man." It took a few moments for Wyatt to realize the man now had a pistol in hand, he did he took a defensive step to his right to somewhat shield his brother. The man started to slowly lift his arm and the guns gaze, there was a stir in the crowd. Most were paralyzed with a blazing fear, others sat still voluntarily, having been in worse situations than what was transpiring in front of them.
"What's ha-" Collin tugged on the back of Wyatt's shirt, but was swiftly cut off by a sharp shush from his guardian, he took the hint and pursed his lips. The guns path grazed over Wyatt with a terrifying intent, his muscles tensed as every fiber in his body started to boil, his eyes refused to shut but god did they want to. He felt himself crumble when the pistol finally ended up facing the night sky and let his lungs relax. The faint creek of the trigger could be heard before a single bullet shot towards the stars, this was enough to warrant a reaction because someone had strayed from the crowd to intervene. If you blinked you'd miss it, the hearty thud of two body's colliding was followed by the tussle of sand as they hit the ground and started their struggle. The man's hat and pistol left his person with the impact, now two figures writhed in the center of the crowd. The leather duster obscuring the conflict for moments at a time. Wyatt let his eyes follow the savior of the situation until he recognized it was Steven. Aggressively using one another as a sort of support the two made it back onto their feet, the man threw a brutal punch to the rib cage, forcing a guttural wheeze of pain from Steven, who had grabbed the man's coat by the lapel as an advantaged grip. Another hit, this time to the face, sent McRell stumbling backwards. Adrenaline was peaking, and the new space between them allowed Steven to take a running start, slamming his whole left side against him with all his force he knocked the man backwards. The uncalculated move was proven volatile, as dozens of eyes watched the stranger fall flat into the flames of the kerosene stoked pit. The horrid screams started immediately with the heat. Crisp charred logs snapped and cracked under his spine, his body sunk into the rubble as he writhed in agony as he was engulfed into the blaze. The surrounding crowd became a little less dense as some had slipped away during the commotion, avoiding association with the crime that had just commenced. A Camaro packed with panicked bystanders sped off with a skidding start. The dreaded smell hit strong and fast, most likely due to the man's thick, untamed hair, assaulting every sinus within the vicinity. Once the scalp was thoroughly burned, the flames soon devoured his clothing, leaving a nude corpse to slowly sear in the pit. As the epidermis slowly blackened, the scent morphed into a rancid meld of charred flesh and tissue in a constant cycle of cauterization.
"Steven." Wyatt left his post in front of Collin and approached his friend, tearing his stare away from the hell before him. Stevens whole persona melted away as he glanced once more at his own doing settling deeper into the flames. He stood there in raw defeat, like his own naked being was on display for the onlookers. His wide eyes locked onto Wyatt's, his entire body trembling in pure shock. His arms shuddered as he slowly lifted them towards Wyatt. He soon found himself in the others arms, grasping one another tightly. He was a typically handsy guy, but this was nothing like before. He reviled in the comfort and let himself go, it was like his bones were all disjointed from each other. They both sunk to their knees, Steven opened his mouth to speak but all that left him was a profound sob, triggering years worth of unshed tears to start burning his eyes. Clutching to Wyatt like a lost child, he continued to bawl, occasionally looking past his shoulder to take a pained look at the singed body, only to cry harder back into the chest of his best friend. The scorn eventually reached the man's organs, amplifying the sour smell. Everyone who still remained still sat in quiet fear until Wyatt stood, leaving a broken man at his feet. He rushed to Collin, grabbing his shoulders and leading him to Stevens aid, who immediately latched onto the freshman. "Take care of him. Please." With a nod of agreement from Collin, Wyatt sprung into action gathering the silent students.
Being such a close knit group of friends, it wasn't hard to get everyone's story straight and for all to swear to take this mishap to their graves. Together they shoveled sand to fill their beloved fire pit, now used as an unmarked grave. One by one they situated into their respective vehicles and drove off in different directions, most heading back to Boulder City.
Just three were left, the two with responsibility over the event, and one unlucky kid who came on the wrong night. The sobbing had subsided, but the tears kept coming. Wyatt helped both of them up off the desert floor, pulling Steven into another embrace. Keeping a hand on his shoulder, Wyatt turned to his little brother. "What do you say if someone asks about tonight?"
"I didn't see anything." Though it was a humorous remark given his disability, Collin didn't show any visible emotion with his words.
"Atta-boy." Wyatt pulled him into a side hug and led both to his truck, sitting them in the back seat, keeping a close eye on them through his rear view mirror. Eventually they fell asleep leaning against one another, Collin's star shades slipped off his nose and fell into his lap, he was his usual self. But Steven didn't look the same.