BROTHER’S KEEPER
A Short Story by Sherman B. Mason
“There’s nothing here,” Brandon muttered. The hopelessness in his voice was heavy. The emptiness of the old barn was even heavier. Jake placed a hand on Brandon’s shoulder. The violent shaking felt like a vibration under the officer’s palm. “Let’s just take a look around. We could’ve missed something,” Jake suggested. Brandon snatched his shoulder away and walked toward the rear of the barn. The heated glare in his eye caught Jake off guard.
“Like what, Jake? An entire body?” Brandon yelled.
“Ok, let's calm down,” Jake replied.
The cold night’s wind and the yelps from some distant coyotes made the scene even more ominous. The old barn had been given to the two brothers, Brandon and Tyler, by their late father a few years before his heart attack. Tyler had been missing for over a week now. Brandon had been trying to convince his sister-in-law that things would be fine and that Tyler was probably at the old barn they used to run to when things got hard to bear at home when they were younger. Brandon called their old friend Jake to help get into the barn that had been locked for some years now. The two brothers parted ways and moved away while Jake stayed around the town to pursue his dreams of becoming an officer of the law.
Brandon slowly paced back and forth through the barn, grasping his head in his hands. Jake decided to remain silent to allow Brandon time with his thoughts. The sound of his police radio became disruptive, so he decided to turn it down for the time being. “I know things seem bad Brandon, but let’s check the place one more time,” Jake said. Brandon remained silent but eventually agreed.
The two began to look over the building again, from top to bottom. The barn was old but fairly large. The smell of rusty metal from the decaying tractors swayed past them from time to time as they checked around for Tyler. There were times where Brandon and Tyler would steal alcohol from the liquor store about a mile down and sleep behind the tractors when they were too drunk to ride their bikes back home. The broken dingy glass pints covered in grime and hay reminded Brandon of the old times. The brutally cold air blowing throughout the barn made it easier for him to stay focused on the task at hand.
“Anything?” Jake hollered from the other side of the barn. His flashlight darted left and right in search of Brandon. “Nothing,” Brandon replied. Brandon returned his attention back to the path in front of him. “I don’t think there’s anything here,” Brandon admitted. The two let the silence do its work to reply.
Suddenly an echo from Jake’s gun rang through the barn. Brandon bolted upward, nearly hitting his head on one of the tractor’s side-view mirrors. He ran over to Jake who was standing over an old chest that had been left in the corner of the barn. “What are you doing?” Brandon yelled. “I told you that belongs to our father!” Jake holstered his weapon and lifted the top of the dusty chest.
“Anything is possible in a situation like this, Brandon,” Jake said.
“Do you think Tyler locked himself in an old chest?” Brandon replied.
“There could be more clues to where Tyler could have gone.”
“There’s nothing here that will help anything!”
Jake leaned closer to the chest, flashing his light over the contents. The stench from inside lifted into the night air. Brandon decided to put the offense behind him for now and take a moment to look at what was inside. Dated photos of their father standing next to tractors and old hunting friends littered the box. Jake reached in and grabbed a picture of the father smiling at Tyler while Brandon clenched onto his pant leg below.
“Wow,” Jake said, chuckling. “You two were small.” Jake focused his light on the young Brandon towards the bottom of the photo. “Why the long face?” he asked. Brandon snatched the photo from Jake’s hand. He wiped his thumb over his dirty face in the photo. The frown seemed to amplify itself in the cold of the barn. Brandon tightened his lips, threw the photo back into the chest, and slammed the top of it shut. “You owe me a lock,” he said, walking away.
Jake followed Brandon toward the exit of the barn. The light of the moon reflected from Jake’s police car like a spotlight. “Thanks again, Jake,” Brandon said once they made it outside. Jake reached over to his shoulder and turned his police radio back up. “Brandon, listen.” He said while getting the volume back to where it was. “If you want me to check out anything else here, don’t hesitate. This is my business too now. If you want, I can check Rocko’s Bar aga-“ Brandon interrupted with a shake of his head. That was enough for Jake to drop the subject for now. “Take care, Brandon,” Jake said. He walked over to his car, backed out, and made his way down the road.
Jake’s vehicle lights were out of sight before Brandon finished his cigarette and headed back inside the barn. The night had gotten colder since they came so he decided he would make his way back to the hotel. The air from his deep breath blew away in the wind as Brandon kicked the broken lock away from the chest. He got on his hands and knees, grunting on his way down. Brandon pulled the chest away from the corner wall it had been in. Tickling his pocket for a moment, he used the ambient moonlight to find the key to the underground shelter. The lock gave no resistance as Brandon lifted the lid where Tyler’s pale face stared back at him.