Wingshooters by Nina Revoyr

Author:Nina Revoyr [Revoyr, Nina]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: akashic books
Published: 2011-04-24T22:00:00+00:00

SEVEN

On the first day of deer hunting season, my grandfather’s alarm went off at three-thirty. I wasn’t going with him—he didn’t want me out in the woods on opening weekend, which attracted so many of what he called “drunk once-a-year hunters” who were trying to get away from their wives—but I still got up to watch him get dressed. He pulled on his camouflage jacket, which was covered with dark green splotches that looked like wet leaves, his lace-up hunting boots, and a thick orange cap. In a leather bag he carried over his shoulder he packed binoculars, knives, a compass, rope, his lunch, and ammunition—cylinders, encased in bright red plastic, that were longer and thicker than my fingers. He opened the gun cabinet and took out his deer hunting rifle and some heavy rope to reinforce the stand. Charlie seemed agitated this morning, not exhilarated like he usually was before a hunt. I wanted to ask what was wrong but there was something in his demeanor, in the way he threw his gear around, that made me afraid to bother him with questions. I knew, though, that any anger he felt was bad news for the deer. At four o’clock he left to meet his friends.

All day my grandmother worked the house, worrying. Charlie had been shot once years back, by a hunter who mistook his movements for a deer. He was proud of that scar, pulled up his pants leg and fingered it sometimes when he had too much to drink. My grandmother washed the dishes extra hard that afternoon, vacuumed like she was punishing the carpet. At lunch she even opened a can of beer and drank it out of a juice glass. She kept looking at me like she was about to say something, but then appeared to decide against it. I didn’t know why she was acting so strange. I stayed up in the attic with Brett and did my best to stay out of her way.

A little before three p.m. a loud honk announced the return of the hunters. My grandmother and I rushed outside just in time to see Uncle Pete’s brown pickup truck pull into the driveway, followed by my grandfather’s Pontiac. In the bed of the truck two deer were laid out on their sides, back to belly. Uncle Pete and Earl got out of the truck, looking more businesslike than happy; Jake was with them but he stayed inside the cab. Ray Davis and Jim Riesling were in Charlie’s car; they tipped their caps at us as they got out and made their way over to the truck bed. My grandfather rushed into the garage to lay newspaper on the floor while Pete and Earl dragged out the first deer. Uncle Pete grabbed its front legs and Earl its hindquarters, and they both swore at the flies that swirled around the carcass as they shuffled with it toward the garage. It was a midsized young male. Two small horns protruded out of its head with three points each, like a series of bent, twisted fingers.

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