Treaters by CJ Rutherford

Author:CJ Rutherford [Rutherford, CJ]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-10-31T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

The Hunt

Jaz

The next morning, I lay with my rifle rested against a fallen tree, bundled up in my parka and winter gear. I had double-bagged my wool socks before squeezing into the waterproof boots, so my feet were warm enough. I was covered from head to toe in USMC Extreme Cold Weather Clothing, the fabric lightweight, water resistant, and quick-wicking. The stark whites, blacks, and grays of the ECWC, designed to make me look like part of the frozen forestland of North Dakota – or the Siberian tundra – was perfect camouflage for my position, and I was virtually invisible. Parts of me were still bitter cold; I kept having to bite my right mitten off in order to shift my balaclava and sight through the scope of the Weatherby. My fingers were beginning to go blue and, despite the woolen face covering, I'd stopped feeling my cheeks several minutes ago. Another ten minutes, and I’d head back. Damned kid and her Christmas dinner. I loved canned salmon.

A rustle across the clearing snapped me back to full alertness. I watched, my breath steaming before my face, as one of the largest elks I’d ever seen entered the clearing. The animal was breathtakingly majestic. I was upwind, as still as the dead and invisible, so I took a long moment to study the beast and appreciate its grandeur. It was old, judging by the points on its antlers, but not too many seasons past its prime. It probably came in at eight hundred pounds. Stunning.

My first thought was, when I killed it, how the hell would I get it back to the lodge? The damned animal was huge, and I’d always had at least two other guys to help dress and haul in the past. I put that thought to the back of my head, however. Jennifer was going to love this. Moving with exquisite slowness, I bit off the mitten and took aim. The animal remained still, sniffing the air.

I hesitated, releasing the pressure on the trigger. Who was I to kill another living being, one of the few left on the Earth? The thought lasted less than a second as I imagined returning to Jennifer, empty-handed except for my lofty morals and sentimentality. I'd never had qualms about hunting in the past; I hunted responsibly and always used every part of the animal I could … but something about life was now more precious than it had been. Maybe that was the biggest shame of all.

We would eventually starve if I didn’t step up and start hunting. Maybe not now; maybe we could even make it until the spring thaw…but eventually, I’d have to begin hunting regularly to keep us in fresh meat. We couldn’t live on canned salmon – well, Jennifer couldn’t, at least.

Thirty seconds later, my ears still reverberating from the shot, I was confronted again by my initial thought. How the hell was I going to get this beast back home? It took a second, but I realized I didn’t need to bring it all, of course.

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