Finally found a home for this story. It will be appearing in a future issue of Bloody Muse. This was based on the nickname of me and three friends had a year or two back.
The flickering yellow ? orange light cast by the numerous fires surrounding him painted the world in a surreal, dreamlike vision. The stench that enveloped the area was overpowering, and would be enough to bring most men to their knees. But he was used to it by now. As sad as it was, none of it affected him anymore.
He hung his head, closing his eyes tightly. Not more than a week ago he would have been weeping now. But there were no more tears. He still couldn?t believe it had come this far. It had all started so innocently. And now this. As he looked over at his comrades bathed in the firelight, his mind wandered back to a time that seemed ages ago. A time that was so much different from now, but was the beginning of everything.
They had just completed the most intense summer of their lives. They had been working for a Christian service project, helping repair homes for low-income families. Saturdays were pretty much their only break from work and volunteers, and the four of them had gotten together nearly every Saturday. Often it was to do little more than hike in the hills for a while and then rent a movie. Occasionally they snuck out to partake in the alcoholic beverages that were forbidden to them for the summer. Whatever the case, they were together every chance they had, and had become the best of friends.
While most of the people they worked with were what they considered ?good? people, there were some that were the bad boys and girls of the crowd. Not ?bad? in the traditional sense. They were still dedicating months of their lived to helping others. But ?bad? from the perspective they did things their own way, and played by their own rules.
All four of them fell into that category. Mark, who worked for an organization that counseled troubled teens in inner-city New York. He had a traditional Italian look to him, and often joked about having ties to the Mafia. Paul, who had just graduated from Boston College and was joining Americorps in the fall. Paul was considered by many an asshole, but to those that knew him it was just part of his charm. Chad, the rugby player from Ohio who planned to be a school teacher. He just didn?t give a damn about what anyone had to say. And Mitch, the boy from Minneapolis who had already decided to continue to work in the home-repair field. He was known by everyone as the most cynical person they had ever met.
A motley crew, given their surroundings, but all dedicated to their work and to helping others. They were the best of friends, so it came as no surprise to anyone that by the end of the summer they had acquired a nickname. ?The Four Horsemen.?
He still remembered how they had picked out their individual names. Chad was named Famine because he was a bit overweight, and they thought it would be funny if the fat kid was Famine. Mark was War because he just looked like a guy that could mess you up if he wanted to. Mitch was Death, for numerous reasons. He smoked, he ate little more than Slim Jims and Almond Joys for the entire summer, and he slept about four hours a night. It was an obvious choice. Paul was then dubbed Pestilence, since it was all that was left.
For the remainder of the summer they continually joked around with the Four Horsemen concept, usually referring to each other by their Horsemen names. It was all so innocent and harmless, until the summer ended. That?s when everything started to go wrong.
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