Stupid Man

The man had a broken ankle, leg and thigh. He didn’t know how he had broken all three parts of his body—especially in one place. But it’s been days since anyone has found him in this wilderness full of forest, deer, rabbit, foxes, squirrels, possums, quails and every other forest animal a person could possibly call game.

He was a hunter. A man hunting game. Maybe a bear trap had caught him. Licked his ankle, then his shin and then his thigh. Maybe a fox had attacked. He winced, grunted, tried to move it, but cried out in utmost pain.

Such white-hot pain rooted him to the spot. He dared not try again. What if every little jolt was preventing his ability to move? What if every little jerk and twitch he had caused only fractured it more? He didn’t want to think about it. At least he could lay down, leaning his neck back and his head, on a rotting log behind him. Moss grew on it, but a snail crawled away from him.

He had his camouflage on, his rifle laying loyally beside him, like a dog would next to his master. Except Stevie died four years ago in a hunting accident. The man continued hunting, despite his dog’s run-in with a bear. The mutt was deaf, so maybe it wasn’t an accident, but the man—

“No. Stevie’s dead. I must stop thinking about him.”

His stomach growled. He probably lost some weight considering he hadn’t eaten in days. Maybe two pounds? He moaned and groaned, tears welling up in his eyes. Someone…anyone come help me. Please. I need to get back to my house. My cat Nellie’s waiting for me. She…

He shut his eyes, and pounded the only strength flowing through him onto the dry leaf-strewn grassy, wet earth in the form of an angry, desperate fist. “Please!” He yelled.

Something jumped over him. No, something leapt right from…

He took off his hat with another hand, surprised he was more able to use his body than he thought. “My hat—the deer on it is gone!”

And it was true. The deer in front of the man that was stuck, sewn, onto the hat the man wore every day—especially to hunting pheasant and quail—had leapt clear off of the hat. He stared at it. And then blinked rapidly, breathing at the same pace. Smiling desperately, the man reached out a dirty, wet hand. “Please.” He rasped, licking his desert-dry lips. “Please—need water.”

The deer leapt off. The man wanted to beat the deer, but he had no strength. Leave me here to die! He looked up at the sky. The sun glared at him, as if it was his fault he had been sweltering out here for days. Being cooked, like an egg on a stove in a frypan. Like sausages or bacon on the stove, sizzling in their own fat. He was sizzling on this earth. The vultures swarmed all around him, flying right for him. He closed his eyes. They’ll eat me. And then I’ll see my dog again! Here I come—

A horrible thwack sounded, and the man shot his eyes open. “What in the world?”

The deer had come back! It kicked one of the half-flying, half-fluttering vultures right in the stomach, presumably, and the man watched the rest of the adventure. His eyes never moved from staring at the deer attack the vultures so viciously, their cawing and croaking going ignored. Something leapt into the air, a cat, its claws out and its hissing and scratching going berserk. The cat was a little pitch-black tornado, and together the cat and deer had scared off those stupid buzzards. The man laughed, and then grew tired. Too tired to even pet his Nellie.

“Thanks…” He heaved, and closed his eyes. His cat, he felt, crushed his hand softly, meowing. The deer stomped its hoof, the man heard the dust unsettle, and then, moments later, heard a metallic bowl with water in it slosh near him. He instantly rolled over, or at least strived towards the bowl, and lapped it up like an insanely thirsty animal. Enormously grateful, the man’s voice cracked as he went after the water again, lapping it up. When all the water was gone, the cat seemed to get more from somewhere.

The man kept lapping it up. Finally, a crunch of a leaf or two—

“Here he is!”

A man and a woman in camouflage circled the man, and softly and slowly picked him up, a metallic bed under him in a jiffy. The hospital, which he could only make out a little of in what seemed like minutes, kept going in and out of focus as the man kept closing and opening his eyes. Garbled language went in and out of his ears as he just relaxed, not trying to do anything but rest. Once the—

The man looked up. The sun was blaring. Flashes of the desert came into his mind. No… the man blinked. Please. I need help…

“Send help, Nellie!”

The cat looked over at the deer, who reared up and dashed away. It seemed to know where to go, and the cat meowed, the man shoving the stupid animal away. “You stupid cat! My dog’s better than you. You’re just a nuisance. I’d rather die here…” The man groped for the cat bowl, and then lay back down. “I’m not an animal. That deer, whatever it is, already ran away.”

Suddenly, a figure started circling the man, and the next thing he knew, he was in the hospital. Someone with familiarly similar eyes to that of Nellie's told him he was glad he was rescued. “You’re hat…the deer jumped out. Was that interesting?” It was weeks before he could even speak. When he had strength, he nodded.

“It’s weird, but yeah.”

“Oh…” The person stayed by his bedside. The man peered closely at her eyes. They were eerily similar to Nellie's golden-green eyes. "Are those...?"

“You're not going to call me 'stupid' again, are you? Because I'm here to save you.”

The man gawked.

"Yeah." The woman with beautiful raven hair and dark eyes and skinny complexion nodded. "I have nine lives. One of them was being a doctor. And now a nurse to you. This is the seventh. What do you think I should do in my next life?"

“Well, want to know about my dog who died four years ago?"

"Okay."

And as the man talked, the woman went away into her imagination, dreaming of the day she could dash away to a new life, one that didn't involve an owner. Where she could be free...