Tynan never would have seen it, half buried in sand and grey ash but for that exact moment, the moon light pulling out from behind low clouds bringing a sudden glint to the camera’s chrome casing.
There was nothing to identify it. No branding or letters. The setting dials and options were few, nothing fancy. It reminded him of the simple point and shoot he’d gotten from his mom before she left. He raised it to the moon and clicked. Nothing.
Maybe not enough light. He pointed to the bonfire where his new stepbrother, Stu, and his friends were drinking, loosely assembled around the rising flames in the rock ring. Nothing. Shit, piece of junk, he thought. Just about to toss it back into the nearby trash can when Stu came up; he was holding a brown beer bottle. Tynan wheeled and clicked.
Stu yelled, “You little shit!”
“Doesn’t work anyway.” said Tynan quickly, and he thought to show Stu that the LCD was blank, but stopped. He could see that something had popped up on the screen, so he cradled it into his sweatjacket.
Stu tossed the not quite empty beer bottle into the grill pit. The glass shattered and lay jagged in the sand. He slurred “Fucking momma’s boy.”
Tynan pulled out the camera but with the moon shuttered behind clouds he had difficulty making sense of the tiny controls. It mattered little anyway. Whatever he’d thought had been there was gone.