Maybe it was because they all worked as hard as one another on the McMasters ranch, but the twins often felt as if their mother were the same age as them. Mother and sons could all hang tough over the twelve hour days of feeding, fixing, and cleaning. Every task on a ranch could be boiled down to just that, except maybe for family duties.
The three of them only had one another. They had no money for hired hands, braceros or not. They had a bit saved for the vet, Doc Price, should he be needed. His office was more than an hour by truck drive away, and the next ranch belonged to a family called Tanner that was more than four hours away by horse.
The McMasters were on their own, but it had always been that way, mother and sons. Ina had given birth to the boys when she wasn't quite seventeen. It was easier to tell everyone that their father had drifted on to Nowherestown after the twins were born, so that's what she did. But in fact the father of the boys went on to become a big time rancher whose land was on the other side of the state. Ina's letters went unanswered. Help, any kind of help, might as well be on the moon.
"48," Ty announced one morning as he and his twin brother Davis had rinsed off their dishes in the washbasin and said farewell to their mother.
"48?"
"48 days since we've seen another face that wasn't in the family."
"What do you mean?"
"Each of us have only seen the face of a McMasters for over a month and a half."
That meant only them, but both Ty and Davis knew that already. Mom was a whole other thing, she was the one, mostly, who drove into town to sell things and to pick up the few items they couldn't make on their own. Of the two, Ty had the most schooling but Davis had shown the most promise. Both were fine ranchers and had been for years.
The twins were indistinguishable from one another except for the clothing that they wore, and often had to wear matching outfits. Both were tall and leaned out, sinewy and hard bitten, from spending their prime years throwing around calves and herding beeves. For breakfast for as long back as they could both remember they'd been eating eggs, sausages, biscuits. Lunch and dinner followed the same red, meaty route. In between all that was the endless riding and working.
Beefy was the word used to describe them, especially by the athletic scout from Big Sky State, the university with the Division 2 football team. Both twins had played some ball in what little schooling they'd gotten, and both felt half excited, half guilty about the prospect of leaving the ranch behind. But Ina was having none of that:
"These are my only boys, I need them," Mom had explained in a tone that was both impassioned and patient. "Ranch can't be worked without them."
Every day began like all the rest of them. They were up before the sun. A quick dash of coffee and feeding yesterday's table scraps to the chickens, who all clucked sleepy complaints. Ty collected four eggs; Davis only one.
"Race you back to the house," Davis said. The breast pocket of his shirt had a button on the flap, so he closed the egg up in there.
"I can't run, I got four eggs on me." Ty complained.
"Just saying that 'cause you know you'll lose."
That was all he had to say. Neither of them could resist a good fight, a good race, a good contest. They both loathed and loved a challenge. Ty situated the eggs on his person so they wouldn't flop around too badly and the boys took off.
Booted feet threw up clods of half frozen dirt, tracks side by side. Running wasn't the first thing they wanted to do that morning, but it helped keep them warm. A white-yellow rectangle of light and warmth that was the kitchen door sharply approached. Both men were covered in sweat when they spilled into the house.
"Now, goddamnit!" Ina yelled from the stove. She rapidly jiggled the cast iron skillet. "Don't go breakin' the door!"
Both men went to wash up. Ty was sweatier than he thought, but looking down at his shirt he realized he had cracked a few eggs. His sigh of anticipated annoyance was sincere and heartfelt.
There was no point in sneaking off to change his shirt. The broken eggs would have to be accounted for, the family needed them. Having always been told to be a man despite having not many examples of one in his life, Ty fessed up, and braced for the whirlwind.
Old Ina didn't disappoint. As they ate, the twins took in the sight of their mother yelling. The McMasters, instead of aging before their time, seemed to freeze in time at their peaks. It was as if they were intimately tied to land and working it was their fountain of eternal youth. The twins were sunburnt, beefy and blond. Ina McMasters was only 34 years of age. Perhaps her mind and personality were warped by all the hardships she'd gone through, but not yet her body or even face. All she had in the way of wrinkles was a few laugh lines around the eyes and lips. The rest of her might as well have been taken from a girl their age. Hard work and good food, the secrets to rosy health.
Finally, she ran out of steam and all three of them got to work for the day. It was the only way to shut her up.
Or so Davis thought.
After dinner, he had spent some time looking through a book he'd borrowed from the library on the Great Coral Reef. The world's largest coral reef system was 133,000 square miles large, roughly, almost the same as California. Davis hadn't ever been very good at memorizing dates or tables, but he liked a lot of subjects and learning random things about them with no rhyme or reason to it all. He dozed that night with gauzy, pleasant undersea images playing one at a time, in his head, soothing him deeper and deeper into sleep.
But his dreams had an insidious way of morphing on him. That night, he half awoke, a habit of his since childhood. The dream had become something to do with zombies. He was stuck in an apartment building, like the big tall one he'd seen at a class trip to the state capitol. Through the windows outside somehow at eye level, close and yet far enough above that he could see them all, was a herd of vividly colored blood splattered people. People, not monsters. A herd of them, like beeves, but there was no riding through this snarling mass to safety. The sun seemed to bring out the shockingly pale bodies, the deep carmine red blood splatter. Davis knew right away these people were no cattle. Why were they gathering outside?
Wood splintered, glass shattered and the hot breath of them, some screams, a washover of blood with countless sets of ragged nails raking down through it--
"...TY!" Davis yelled as he clawed off the covers. The first thing he saw upon waking was the rain patterns against the window pane, looking like human hands, and a scream fought its way past his clenched throat.
When he got out from under the covers, sweating, disgusted at the moisture absorbed into them, he realized he was alone in bed. For as long as Davis could remember they had slept side by side, up until a year or two ago. Ty had been grateful to have a room of his own, but it always took Davis a few minutes in the mornings to realize he had his privacy now.
Mornings. He very reluctantly turned to the window to look at the stars, but of course it was weeping rain. No way to tell what time it was, but also no zombies outside. He crept from the sodden bed, grateful to be away from his nightmare and any thoughts of sleep.
He read the time out in the hall, hit a cross current in the kitchen and realized he was hungry. One thing Ina was never stingy about was food. She called them her growing boys, and knew their livelihood depended almost solely on the twins's abilities to work and work.
It was the middle of the night but Davis set out to build a sandwich of epic proportions, the kind of midnight meal only an 18 year old would be able to get away with. A coarse ground rye bread, for strength. Roast beef. Double mayo, that went without saying. There was a block of cheddar they had traded for at the local farmer's market and some tomatoes that looked OK. Lettuce on a sandwich was a contentious topic on the McMasters Ranch, but Davis was a fan, so in it went.
The all important and anticipated first bite was ahead, but then he noticed Ty's door was showing a sliver of light. It wasn't like his twin brother to wake up in the middle of the night. For years that had been Davis's proclivity, not Ty's.
Curious, without too much trepidation, he walked to his brother's door and eased it open with one finger. No one home.
"Ty?" He said loudly in the hall, and was wincing almost before the words left his mouth. Mom hated being woken up in the middle of the night. When Davis was younger, his "sleepwalkings", as she called it, were a constant source of friction between them
But mom's door, though closed, seemed to shutter an empty room, too. Davis felt his imagination, always overactive, getting the better of him. Maybe it was zombies? He rolled his eyes at his own childishness.
He'd lost his appetite. No matter what Ty was doing, they were 18 now and it wasn't his business. And as for Ina, he hadn't even checked. She was probably in there snoozing, and if he woke her up with freaking floorboards or calling out names he'd be in for it.
Davis was all set to return to bed, zombie nightmares or no zombie nightmares, when he saw the light from outside. The ranch had always been much bigger than the family needed. There were outbuildings all over the property that no one had entered in years.
The light was coming from a shed the family rarely used, but never this late at night. What was going on out there? Was his twin in trouble? As quietly as he could, Davis put on a pair of shoes and slipped outside, making sure the old flimsy screen door didn't bang shut behind him.
Davis hadn't thought to bring anything to cover his head and his hair was soon sodden and clinging. He made no sound on the soaked grass and could only hear rain around him.
The voices cracked through the downpour like a whip, reaching him from just ahead, sounding angry. Davis splashed faster and faster, looking frantically through the window of the shed.
It was a discordant sight, almost enough to jar him to scream aloud. He saw himself wearing only boots, seated in an old wooden chair, tied up at shoulders, chest, and ankles, unable to move. Mom was at his side, and she had unbuttoned her pajama top so her breasts spilled out, high and free and bouncing as she hurriedly worked her hand between his legs.
Not him, Ty. His twin brother. Ty was tied. It wasn't with anything but a thick string and the knots were sloppy. Davis was sure that his twin could flex and bust out of there, but he gave no sign of resisting. Rather, Ty had his face buried into his mother's cleavage, beefy face framed by it, eyes closed, mouth moving, breathing hard. Between his legs his erection was being positively wrung out and pumped by their mother with the same vigor that they all did their work around the ranch.
The shed was small enough where any glance upward would alert them, but they were too wrapped up in their act to notice anything but one another. Davis could hear Ina almost snarling in a husky voice, "Bad boy, breaking eggs, you know what that means..."
Once, Davis had been caught off guard in a pen with an angry bull. 1400 pounds of hard charging bone and muscle with eons of killer instinct behind it. The beast tried to catch his eyes, snorted, and pawed the ground, threatening to lower its head. All the while Davis's own instinct told him to run like hell, but the movement would have triggered the bull to kill him for sure. Instead, he slowly backed away and avoided eye contact.
