By Dirt, Fire, and Gold

The morning fog clung to the paddocks like breath on cold glass. Josh stood by the fence with a thermos of black tea, letting the steam curl into his face as the sun crept over the hills. Glenn was working beside him, leaning against the gate with one boot propped on the bottom rail. A cigarette dangled from his lip, unlit.

It was the morning after the boar hunt, and they hadn’t spoken much since the boys had gone to town. Quiet wasn’t rare on the farm, but there was something heavy in it this morning. Something waiting.

Josh took a step closer. “You alright?”

Glenn didn’t look at him. Just reached into his shirt pocket and flicked out a lighter. He lit the cigarette and took a long drag before finally speaking.

“You ever kill anyone, Josh?”

Josh blinked, caught off guard. “Uh… no. Not like… not a person.”

Glenn nodded. “Didn’t think so. Thought maybe with all this portal shit, maybe.”

Josh didn’t answer.

Glenn looked out over the property, eyes following a galah flapping low over the fence line. “I did. Once. Right before you were born.”

Josh stood still, letting the silence invite the story instead of questioning it.

“I was a copper,” Glenn said. “Stationed out in Orange. Rookie, barely two years in. Still thought I could save everyone.”

He took another drag.

“There was a call. Servo on the highway being held up. Bloke had a knife. Me and my partner rolled in first. I went inside, told the guy to drop it. He looked right at me and just… saw through me. Like he knew. Knew I didn’t want to shoot him.”

Josh’s hands gripped the thermos a little tighter.

“He rushed me. Got inside my reach. We went down hard, knocked over a stack of chip stands. I felt the blade hit under my vest—right here.” Glenn tapped his chest, just beside the sternum. “Hot and deep.”

Josh flinched.

“I panicked. Pulled my sidearm and shot him. Up under the chin.” Glenn tapped the underside of his jaw. “Right into his brain. He was dead before he hit the floor.”

The breeze rolled across the field, whistling low through the grass.

“That was it for me,” Glenn said, almost whispering. “Didn’t wait to be dismissed. Just left. Came back here while your old man was loading the car, running off with your mum.”

Josh looked down. “He doesn’t talk about it.”

“No. He wouldn’t. We needed him. Dad asked him to stay.”

Glenn flicked the cigarette butt into the dewy grass and crossed his arms. “I lost the plot for a while after that. Fought blokes in pubs. Drank myself to sleep in the back of the Ute most nights. Woke up at sunrise with a stiff neck and nothing to show for it but busted knuckles and empty bottles. Couldn’t sleep otherwise. God, the nightmares were bad.”

Josh pictured it—Glenn in his twenties, bruised and bitter, sleeping rough on his own land.

“Then Dad—your grandfather—died of a heart attack. Just dropped one day out in the south paddock. And I… I let the place go. Didn’t work. Didn’t move. Sat on the couch and watched everything fall apart.”

Josh stayed quiet. There was nothing to say yet.

“And then I met Maddie.” Glenn’s voice cracked, just slightly. “Down by the river. I was fishing. She was skinny-dipping. Said she didn’t care if I looked. Told me to get in if I wanted to do something useful.”

That brought a soft, surprised laugh out of Josh.

“She was younger than me. Too smart for her own good. Strict, too. Fierce. Like Tiff, kind of, but with a bit more grace. Didn’t let me get away with anything. Called me out every time I made an excuse.”

Josh smiled, just faintly. “Sounds like she had your number.”

“Still does,” Glenn said, voice low. “Even now. Six years gone, and I still hear her in my head every time I think about giving up.”

He finally looked at Josh. “You know what saved me, in the end?”

Josh shook his head.

“The kids. Once we had them, it was like… all the shit I’d been carrying had somewhere to go. I could let it out and it wouldn’t ruin me. Wouldn’t ruin them either, ‘cause I had a reason to be better.”

Josh stared at the horizon. The cows were just starting to drift toward the troughs.

“You’re carrying a lot,” Glenn said after a pause. “I can see it. You hold it in your shoulders.”

“I don’t know what to do with it,” Josh admitted, his voice tight. “I thought… this trip, the work, it’d help. And it does, sometimes. But I still wake up like I’m about to die.”

“Yeah,” Glenn said. “I used to wake up choking on air, thinking I was bleeding out. Dreaming I was back on that servo floor with my chest cut open.”

Josh rubbed his arm, unsure what to say.

“Just saying—when you’re ready to talk about it, I’ll listen. I won’t push. But I’m not scared of your pain, Josh. Don’t ever feel like you gotta wear a mask with me.”

Josh nodded, throat thick. He looked up at the sky and let the quiet settle over them again.

They stood side by side as the sun finished rising, bathing the paddocks in gold.

***

The next few days passed with a comforting predictability. Josh learned how to replace hydraulic seals on a tractor, helped dig a new irrigation trench, and even sat in on Tiff yelling at a supplier over the phone with the kind of righteous fury only an eldest daughter could deliver.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

At night, they played cards on the verandah, the boys inventing new house rules every game. Tiff finally snapped after Robert tried to swap hands with Ben and declared “cheating was just another type of strategy.”

“You little rats!” she laughed, chasing them around the garden as Josh and Bruce howled with laughter.

After one particularly long day, Bruce and Josh sat in the back of the Ute, eating ice cream from a servo trip into town. The cicadas were out, buzzing loudly, and the dogs barked lazily at the shadows.

“You ever think about quitting for good?” Bruce asked.

“Quitting what?”

“All of it. The gates. Atlassian. The danger.”

Josh stared at the melting swirl of caramel in his cup. “Yeah. All the time.”

Bruce nodded. “So why don’t you?”

Josh didn’t answer right away.

“I think… because I’m good at it. And because someone has to be.”

Bruce gave a small, approving nod. “Still. If you ever need to come back, the paddocks will still be here.”

Josh smiled. “Yeah. They will.”

***

Late one evening, Josh wandered back to the pig’s body. The thing was still lying there, under a tarp, waiting for collection by a research team that had been delayed by a gate incident out west. The flies had mostly left it alone—too much mana. Bruce had been so disappointed when he’d explained they couldn’t keep it.

Josh crouched beside it. It had been a real animal, once. A normal pig. Then something had twisted it. Something foreign. He thought of Vale. Of the gates. Of the things waiting on the other side. He thought of Red, and let himself sit in the pain for a moment.

He reached out and placed a hand on the rough bristled hide.

He stayed there for a while, until the moon rose high over the trees and the wind rustled the gum leaves like soft applause.

***

The fire crackled in the pit as the night settled over the ranges. The cousins lounged on camping chairs, half-eaten damper and burnt sausages scattered across a battered esky. Josh leaned back, arms behind his head, feeling more at peace than he had in months. No missions. No gates. Just stars and the sound of crickets and the glory of a looming long weekend.

Robert took a swig of his ginger beer and grinned. "Youse ever hear about Mad Wally?"

"The old gold miner?" Bruce asked, stretching his legs.

"Yeah, the one that reckoned people were out to nick his claim. Supposedly buried a sack of nuggets somewhere in the ranges after going a bit loopy. Drew up a treasure map and booby-trapped the shaft before vanishing."

Ben’s eyes lit up. "Is it real?"

Robert shrugged. "Dunno. They still talk about him in Bathurst. Couple of drunk blokes tried to find the shaft back in the '80s and ended up getting lost overnight. Said they found something, though."

Josh’s ears perked. "You got any idea where to look?"

Robert pulled a folded, aged printout from his hoodie pocket. "Picked this up at the historical society last year. It's a photocopy of an old mining record. Might not be Mad Wally's, but it's close. Wanna find out?"

The boys looked at each other. Bruce groaned. "You’re not seriously suggesting we go out there tomorrow—"

"I’m in," Josh said, grinning. "Could be fun."

***

They set off at dawn, packs loaded with torches, jerky, water, and a shovel each.

They moved deep into the range, following overgrown cattle tracks and dried creek beds. Josh led the way, nose to the breeze, picking up traces of rust and old campfires.

By nightfall, they made camp in a hollow by a granite outcrop. They cooked on a portable gas stove and laughed over stories. Ben was ecstatic as he roasted marshmallows over their campfire.

On day two, the bush thickened. Josh caught a whiff of something: dust, sulphur, and old iron. He turned sharply toward a slope dotted with bracken and lantana. Behind it, nestled between boulders, was a partial wooden frame, half-buried beneath dirt.

They started digging, hands scraping roots and rocks until the shaft opened wide enough to squeeze through. A ladder—half rotted but steady—led down into darkness.

"Anyone claustrophobic?" Josh asked.

"Not at all…" Bruce muttered and stood his ground, letting Josh and Robert go first.

They dropped into the cool damp belly of the earth, torches illuminating timber walls and rusted rails. Josh moved ahead, nose twitching.

"It’s stale," he muttered. "No one’s been here in a long time. But... something’s here."

As they reached a fork, the floor groaned.

"Wait—" Josh began.

Too late. The wood beneath them gave way with a crack. Josh and Robert plummeted into a lower chamber with a crash, choking on dust.

"JOSH! ROB!" Bruce shouted from above.

"We’re okay!" Josh coughed, cradling his ribs. "Mostly."

Dust cascaded around them, leaving them choking on the already depleted oxygen.

The chamber was tight. Timber beams slanted dangerously, and rocks pinned Josh’s leg. The air was thin—too thin.

Robert was on his knees, panting. Panic rising.

"Can't... breathe," he gasped.

Josh tried calming him. "Rob... listen to me. You’ve got this. Just focus."

Robert's eyes flared. The air shimmered around him. With a sudden gasp, a pressure wave pulsed outward—a bubble of stable air. The dust thinned. Josh could breathe again.

"You’re doing this?" Josh asked him in wonder.

Above, Bruce started clearing debris. Robert held the air pocket steady, sweat pouring down his face. After ten grueling minutes, Bruce broke through. Fresh air rushed in.

They climbed out coughing, blinking in the torchlight.

"You’re a bloody airbender," Ben said in awe.

Robert grinned weakly. "I don’t know what I am,” he said.

They rested, then checked the chamber again. Behind an old crate was a canvas satchel. Inside: a folded map, two gold coins, and a photograph of a young woman with dark curls and kind eyes.

The map was hand-drawn, labelled with riddles and a sketch of a tree marked by carved initials. A small heart framed the letters: W + M.

"Lovers," Josh murmured.

***

The next morning, following the map’s markers, they climbed into another stretch of dense bush. They found the tree near a stony ridge—still standing, bark warped with age but the initials faintly visible.

Bruce jabbed his shovel into the earth. "Let’s see if Wally really left us something."

Thirty minutes of digging. Then a clang.

"Found something!" Ben shrieked.

They unearthed a leather sack tied with twine. Inside there were dozens of gold nuggets. Real. Heavy. Filthy. Beautiful.

Josh whooped. Ben danced. Robert cried. Bruce cracked a wide smile.

***

Back at the farmhouse, they lugged the sack onto the kitchen table. Uncle Glenn wandered in, coffee mug in hand.

"What’s all this noise—"

He stopped dead, staring at the gold.

"You’re kidding."

Josh grinned. "Mad Wally’s gold."

Glenn let out a roar of laughter. "You bloody ripper! We’re buying that new harvester! Maybe even a proper shed fridge!"

Robert sat quietly in the corner, a small smile on his face. Josh joined him, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

"You did good, mate."

Robert looked up. "I just wanted an adventure."

Josh nodded. "You got one. And a superpower to boot."

They laughed together—brothers not by blood, but by dirt, fire, and gold.

And for a moment in the farmhouse kitchen, Josh didn’t feel broken. He felt home.