The Last Hunting Trip

Behind the cover of a fallen oak tree, Carl followed the deer through the lens of his rifle scope, he watched the buck as it walked cautiously around bare trees, nearly three hundred yards in front of him. The snow-covered ground made it easy to see the animal’s dark body as it strolled silently through the ancient forest. There was no way to make a clean shot so the hunter waited and watched, eventually his prey would close the gap between them. He just needed to be patient. 

A twig snapped off to Carl’s right and he instinctively turned towards the noise. He only saw more leaf-less trees and snow. All was silent and still, then a red blur near the top of an old oak flashed from one limb to another. “Damn squirrel,” he said as he watched the rodent leap to another branch then disappear around the back side of the tree. Carl strained his old eyes to see if the squirrel climbed down to run away along the ground. After a few seconds he was satisfied that the animal had either escaped unseen or was hiding in a knot hole somewhere in that last tree. New snow began to fall as the old hunter turned back towards the trophy buck that should be a lot closer by now. 

Invisible to the hunter, in the top of the highest limb of the old oak tree sat a deviant being with sinister motivations. It perched unnaturally steady on a fragile limb that showed no sign of bearing the weight of the man-size creature. The fresh snow fall landed lightly on its stooped back and slowly started to accumulate there. When the hunter turned away, the creature sprang from the branch to the main trunk and clung there for a moment before bounding, undetected to the ground. 

The deer was not where Carl determined it should be, he hoped the squirrel had not scared his trophy away. His aging eyes searched the area where he last spotted the buck but there was no sign of it. He remained silently in place; confident the animal was simply obscured behind one of the hundreds of trees that littered the landscape in front of him. The hunter imagined the deer was pawing at the snow searching for a hidden stash of fallen acorns, just out of view, and any moment it’s enormous body would emerge in the clearing he had previously selected where he would fire the fatal shot. 

With the rifle resting across the fallen tree, Carl gazed through the scope, calmly searching for his prey. The images through the lens were foggy due to the falling snow so Carl was forced to move slowly, critiquing every detail of the scenery. A sudden flash of movement caught his attention, it moved too fast to follow with the scope. Carl lifted his head and squinted into the distance, he needed to see what just ran across the horizon. “Must have been a coyote,” he whispered to himself then returned to his search for the buck. 

The invisible menace crept nearer to Carl and chuckled to himself with sinister glee. Despite the fresh layer of snow on the ground, he left no tracks as he silently approached the kneeling hunter from behind. 

As Carl continued to peer through the haze of the morning air, looking for his prey, he suddenly became aware of another presence nearby. He stole a quick glance over his left shoulder and spied nothing except for the snow-covered landscape he expected to see. After a moment he returned to his search for the buck and almost immediately his patience paid off. The magnificent animal stepped out from behind a massive oak tree into a clearing one hundred yards away. It wasn’t the clearing Carl had hoped he would emerge from, but it would do. Slowly, he slid the rifle out on top of the downed tree in front of him and shifted his body to prepare for the shot. An almost imperceptible giggle, somewhere behind him, startled the hunter causing him to suddenly stop and slowly turn back around to gaze at the scenery behind him. “I must be losing my mind,” he said when he realized he was alone. Once again Carl turned to face his trophy buck. The deer had only moved about ten feet to the right side of the next big tree, still within range and with a clear shot. 

Finally, the cross hairs of the scope were steadily resting on the side of the buck, just behind the front leg and right about halfway down from the top of his back. With professional skill, Carl released his breath and pressed the trigger back until the rifle bucked in his hands. The report of the rifle and the flash from the muzzle caused loose snow to billow up in front of him. As the plume settled, Carl greedily peered towards his prize to see where it fell. All at once, panic struck the hunter when he could not find the deer laying in the clearing. “No, no, no,” he muttered as he stood up to get a better look. “That was a perfect shot!”

Another muffled giggle erupted somewhere behind him. Carl quickly swung around, leveling his rifle with both hands at his waistline. “Who’s there?” he shouted, “This isn’t funny!” He continued peering through the falling snow, looking for whoever was out there. His trained eyes studied every detail of the forest in front of him. He scoured the snow-covered ground looking for the tracks of his tormentor but found nothing. There was no sign of anyone or anything in the area then he noticed a thin layer of snow that appeared to be hovering a few feet above the ground about thirty yards away. With one hand, Carl wiped away the snow that clung to his eye lashes and brow. Blinking rapidly to clear his vision, he peered back at the spot where he saw the floating snow and was relieved to see it was gone. “It might be time to take up a new hobby,” he said aloud. 

As he began to turn back around, Carl noticed a white orb rapidly arching towards him. Before he could react, the snowball impacted his face, stinging the cold flesh of his nose and cheeks. “Son of a!” he shouted as he wiped away the remnants of the projectile. “Who threw that?”

He was answered by a sinister giggle, this time there was no attempt to conceal the laughter. “You like? Ma ‘al threw. Want another?”

“Who, who the hell is May Al? Come out here where I can see you! Where are you?”

“Me here,” replied Ma ‘al.

Carl turned towards the menacing voice and once again saw the floating snow. “Why you little!” He took a step forward then noticed a flurry of motion a few yards further back. With squinted eyes, Carl stared into the distance not believing what he was seeing. “That can’t be. There ain’t no bears in this part of the country.”

The white bear was galloping steadily towards Carl. When the realization of his situation struck him, the hunter began back peddling as he brought his rifle up to his shoulder. Instinctively he jerked the trigger then remembered he did not chamber a new round after he shot the deer. With panic fueling his every move, Carl quickly retracted the bolt of his rifle then shoved a live round forward. The bear continued to close the gap between them, only forty yards remained. By the time Carl had the rifle back to his shoulder ready to fire, the bear was at thirty yards. When he fired the shot, the bear was at twenty yards and still approaching fast. The shot had missed. Terror now fueled him as backed away while trying to jam another round in the chamber of his rifle. Ten yards now. The bolt wouldn’t close on the gun and as Carl fought with it, his heel struck a log behind him. The sudden loss of balance sent his arms flying up and over his head and his rifle sailing somewhere behind him. Carl crashed hard on his back and all the air in his lungs was instantly forced out. He could feel the thundering footsteps of the approaching bear as he brought his arms up to protect his face from the impending attack. 

A violent gust of wind blasted Carl with an eruption of snow at the exact moment the bear should have landed on him. There was no tearing of flesh or screaming or growling from a vicious encounter with a thousand-pound killer. Instead there was only cold powdery snow settling down on him as he lay there expecting to be violently ripped to shreds. Reluctantly he opened his eyes and was surprised when he didn’t see his harbinger of death. The bear was gone. 

Carl laid there under his new blanket of snow and breathed a sigh of relief. Somehow, he survived the attack. Not knowing where the bear was, he cautiously brushed snow from his body and slowly rose to a seated position. Scanning the area for his attacker he heard the malicious chuckle once again. 

“You like this game?” asked Ma ‘al. “We keep playing?”

“Oh no.” Carl’s sense of relief was quickly replaced with one of dread. He could hear what appeared to be a pack of wolves howling and snarling as they sprinted through the forest towards him. The man quickly got to his feet and ran as fast as he could back to where he parked his pickup. As he ran, he could hear the wolves approaching and the sickening laughter of Ma ‘al behind him. A few moments later Carl jumped into the cab of his truck and sped away. That was the last hunting trip he ever went on.