Big Game

by Daniel Smith

  “We’re high up,” I said. “The air is thin and you’re not used to it.”

  He nodded.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll look after you.” It was unreal, like some kind of weird dream. Here I was, leading the president of the United States through the wilderness, trying to escape from crazed hunters, and I was beginning to realize that I was going to have to be the strong one. “I’ll keep you safe.”

  “Well, kid, I gotta say, you seem to know what you’re doing.”

  “Oskari,” I said. “Not ‘kid.’ ”

  “Yeah. Oskari.”

  We continued along the scar, moving from tree to tree, leaving almost no trace that we had ever been there. The broken branches, the rain, the debris and the fires meant that it would be impossible to track us along this route. When we came to the end, we jumped down and jogged into the darkness of the forest that stretched out ahead as if it never ended. Only a small amount of moonlight made it through the canopy.

  “Stop here.” I held up a hand, but the president bumped into me anyway, knocking me forward.

  “Sorry.”

  “Pay attention,” I said, thinking how much I sounded like Dad.

  “What are we stopping for?”

  “We need to wait a few moments for our sight to get used to the dark. Let your eyes unfocus.”

  “What?”

  “Unfocus,” I said. “Use your splatter vision.”

  “My what vision?”

  “Shh. Never mind.” I allowed my eyes to relax and not focus on anything. Dad said hunters had been using this trick for years, and it worked best in the open, but was good in the forest, too. By focusing on nothing in particular, letting my vision go a little fuzzy, unusual movements seemed to jump out, demanding attention. I had used it to spot all sorts of animals, but now I was using it to look for a very different kind of animal. I was looking to see if there was anybody waiting for us, out there in the darkness.

  Seeing nothing unexpected, I cupped my hand behind my ears and turned my head this way and that, scanning for sounds. An owl hooted, something scurried in the undergrowth … and there was something else.

  “Helicopter’s coming back,” I said.

  “I can’t hear anything.”

  “Cup your hands behind your ears. You’ll hear like a rabbit.”

  “Really?” The president copied me and turned in the direction of the scar. “I’ll be damned.”

  “We need to keep moving.” I scooped a handful of pine needles and decaying leaves from the ground and sprinkled them over the place where we had been standing, covering the marks we had left. “And remember — put your feet where I put mine.”

  “Do you actually know where you’re going?” he asked, glancing around at the forest, which I supposed looked all the same to him.

  “Of course.”

  So we moved on, deeper and deeper into the trees, walking for more than an hour, leaving the helicopter to sweep the wilderness in our wake as we headed up the mountainside toward the secret hunting ground marked on Dad’s map. It was the best thing to do — the only place for us to go. When I didn’t come out of the forest tomorrow, Dad and some of the other men would come looking for me, and that was where they would head. They would be armed, and they were expert woodsmen. Hazar’s men might have had automatic weapons, but I didn’t rate their chances against a group of hunters like Dad.

  “You need to be quieter,” I said. “Walk carefully.”

  “I’m doing my best.”

  “Well, you sound like an elephant.”

  “I’m not making that much —”

  “Keep your feet flat. People think they should roll from heel to toe, but that’s two points of contact and it’s wrong. Everything you stand on will snap. An animal has only one point of contact and it moves like mist. You have to do the same. And try not to breathe so loud.” It felt strange to be in control for once, but it made me feel good, too. Like a man instead of a boy.

  Behind us, the helicopter buzzed over the forest, its searchlight moving backward and forward. There would be men on the ground, following its instructions, and I wondered where Hazar was. Would he be in the forest, or riding in the helicopter with his rifle at the ready?

  Mostly the helicopter moved around the forest behind us, skimming the treetops, but there was a moment when the thud of its rotors grew louder and it came zipping toward us, as if it had spotted something and was rushing over to investigate.

  “Get down!”

  We dived for cover, throwing ourselves into the dirt at the edge of a narrow stream.

  “Over here,” I hissed, crawling toward the built-up wall of the bank. “Slowly.” Any sudden movements would be much more visible.

  The president followed me and we lay side by side and facedown, squeezed into the side of the muddy wall.

  “Don’t look up at it,” I said. “Our faces will reflect the light.”

  “This is turning out to be a really crappy day,” the president muttered.

  “For me, too,” I said.

  We covered our faces as the helicopter hovered overhead, battering the treetops with its downdraught. The powerful beam of the searchlight flashed back and forth, cutting through the branches, glittering off the water and pouring over the rocks and undergrowth. The noise was tremendous, vibrating through my head and making my whole body tremble, but we remained completely still, as if we were part of the forest.

  Eventually the helicopter moved on, but I decided we should wait a while before it was safe to continue our escape. We sat by the stream, listening to the musical tinkle of the water playing over the rocks.

  “Makes me want to pee,” the president said.

  “So pee,” I told him.

  He stood up and went into the trees close by, making me feel the urge, so I did the same thing. When we were done, we washed our hands in the stream and set off again.

  “We’re lucky it’s still spring,” I said as we walked. “A few more weeks and the sun won’t set at all. It would be much harder without the darkness.”

  “The season of the midnight sun,” the president said.

  “You know about it?”

  “It’s your summer, isn’t it?”

  “Kind of. We have three summers. Early summer, summer, and late summer, except we call them Departure of Ice, Midnight Sun, and Harvest Season.”

  “That’s kind of beautiful,” the president said.

  “Is it?”

  “You don’t think so?”

  “I never thought about it — it just makes it difficult to sleep.”

  We changed direction from time to time, never traveling in a straight line. We backtracked and zigzagged and even used low branches to stay off the damp soil and confuse any tracks we might be leaving. Wherever I could, I stepped on rocks that jutted from the soil. Behind me, the president complained every time he put his bagged foot on one and felt the sharp edges bite at his skin.

  Late in the night, we came out of the thickest part of the forest, moving higher up the mountain where the trees were thinner and the ground was harder and more uneven. This is where I would have had to leave the ATV before the final trek to the secret hunting ground.

  “They could never track us here,” I said, climbing up onto a rocky shelf and turning to offer my hand. “They won’t even think we’ve come in this direction.”

  The president looked at me. “Up the mountain instead of down, you mean? You’re a smart kid, Oskari.”

  “We should be more or less safe.”

  “More or less?” He declined my offer and hauled himself up, grunting with the effort.

  “They have a helicopter,” I said.

  The president managed to get one knee up onto the shelf but struggled to get any farther, so I grabbed the back of his jacket and pulled hard. He half fell, half rolled onto the rocks and lay on his back for a moment, breathing hard. “Helicopter. Yeah. Good point.”

  When he was ready to go again, we traveled in silence for a whi
le, both of us exhausted, and I cast my mind back over everything that had happened.

  “What is Morris?” I asked. “You were saying it when you came out of the pod. Is it a person?”

  “Morris is my personal bodyguard.” The president was still breathing heavily, but not as much as before. “He’s saved my life more than once.”

  “He must be very brave. Is he a hunter?” We entered a small brake of scrawny pines and I held back a whiplike branch, waiting for the president to follow.

  “Not really.” He nodded thanks. “Morris puts himself in harm’s way for me, though.”

  “What does that mean?”

  He stopped just inside the trees and put his hands on his hips. “Well, it means that when I was in Seattle and made the mistake of deciding to meet-and-greet a crowd, and someone came at me with a gun, Morris was the man who stepped in the way. He was shot right here.” The president tapped his chest. “Still has a fragment of the bullet this close to his heart.” He held his forefinger and thumb less than an inch apart. “It was too dangerous to remove it, they said, but apparently one day it will work its way right into his heart and kill him.”

  “So it’s like he’s already dead?” I asked, turning to look at him.

  “In a way. I wanted him to retire but he wouldn’t listen. Maybe it’s just as well — he’s the one who saved me by getting me to the pod before …” His voice trailed away and he stopped as if something had occurred to him.

  “What is it?”

  He put a hand to his mouth and stared at the ground.

  “President?”

  He looked up. “Hmm?” There was a distant look in his eyes, like he was seeing right through me. It was the same as before, when I’d asked him about the man in the suit. “Oh. Nothing. Nothing.” He shook his head and continued walking. When he spoke again, there was still a hint of something in his voice, though, and it seemed to me that his mind was somewhere else. “Anyway, one good thing about being president is that I know the greatest resources on the planet are being disposed to facilitate my rescue.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked.

  “It means that a lot of people will be looking for me.”

  “In the wrong place.”

  “Hmm?”

  “The man in the suit said he got rid of your … what did you call it? The signal thing.”

  “Transponder.”

  “Yes. So everyone will be looking in the wrong place.”

  “They’ll realize soon enough,” the president said. “Then they’ll come looking here.”

  “But not until dawn. At least, that’s what the man said.”

  “I know what he said.” The president sounded annoyed. “I heard him, too.”

  “Well, then I guess it’s good I found you. I mean, if I hadn’t, those men would have you now. And even if you had gotten out of the pod, you’d have no chance of survival out here without me. I understand the wilderness; it’s my home.” I felt a small sense of pride. “With this bow, I can catch us food and keep us safe. And there are bears in these mountains,” I told him. “I’ll keep you safe from them, too.”

  “There are bears here?” He sounded worried and looked around us.

  “Many.”

  “And you could kill one with that bow you’re carrying?” There was doubt in his voice.

  “Of course. This is a very powerful bow.”

  “Have you done it before?”

  “Yes. Well — no. But my dad has. When he was exactly the same age as me.” I put a hand in my pocket and felt the photograph between my fingers.

  “And how old are you?”

  “Twelve,” I said. “Thirteen tomorrow.”

  “Wow. Okay. My son is thirteen,” the president said. “I have a daughter, too. She’s eleven.”

  “What does your son like to hunt?”

  The president laughed. “Umm … we don’t really hunt.”

  “You don’t hunt?” I looked back at him with suspicion.

  He shrugged and shook his head.

  “Well, the brown bear is the most sacred animal,” I said. “So after Dad killed it, they had a huge feast in its honor so its spirit wouldn’t be angry, and then its skull was put on the highest pine pole so its spirit could enter the heavens.”

  “Your dad sounds like quite a guy. I guess you want to be just like him, right?”

  “He has taught me everything he knows.”

  “Does that include telling you about a safe place somewhere out here?”

  “Yes. We’re going to Dad’s secret hunting ground. We’ll be safe there.”

  But with the helicopter and all those men searching the forest, I couldn’t stop the doubt from creeping in.

  Out of the main forest around the lower part of Mount Akka, and farther up where the terrain was more rugged and the trees were thinner, I stopped to scan our surroundings. I let my eyes unfocus so I would notice any unusual movements, but there was nothing behind us. When I turned to watch the mountain ridge in front of us, though, I saw a rabbit hop once, then stop to look about. It was a perfect silhouette, exactly the same shape as the targets Dad made for practice.

  I signaled to the president to stop, then lifted the bow and quietly nocked an arrow. I raised, aimed, and drew back the string. As soon as I started to pull it back, though, I began to feel angry. The bow was too big and too strong for me. It was almost useless and made me feel weak. I gritted my teeth and pulled with all my strength, but as before, I couldn’t get the string to my cheek.

  I fired anyway.

  The string twanged and the arrow skewed as it left the bow. It flew in an awkward curve, bouncing off the rocks to the left of the rabbit.

  The rabbit didn’t waste any time making its getaway. One moment it was there, and the next it was gone.

  “Tough break,” the president whispered, but I ignored him.

  Annoyed and embarrassed, I lowered the bow and went to retrieve my arrow, slipping it into the quiver and looking back, seeing the forest behind us. We had climbed a long way, so now the thickest trees were below, and I could see the helicopter sweeping the forest. It wasn’t much more than a small red light, with a beam of white piercing down from it.

  I shifted my gaze and looked at the president. “If I had a smaller bow, my own bow, I would have hit it. We could’ve had rabbit for dinner if this stupid bow wasn’t so big.”

  “It’s all right,” he said. “We’ll just have to go without dinner tonight.” He started walking toward me, stepping from boulder to boulder. “Besides, I’m not a big fan of rabbit. I prefer a cheeseburger.” He stopped and looked down between two large, jagged rocks. “What’s this?” The president squatted and reached down to grab whatever it was that he had seen. “A shoe,” he said, holding it up.

  “Yours?” I asked. There was enough moonlight for me to see that it was a black, shiny shoe, the kind a president might wear. It certainly wasn’t a hunter’s boot, and I’d never seen anyone in my village wear anything like it.

  “Not mine.” He shook his head and let his hand drop to his side.

  “Is it your size, then? Maybe it’s your lucky day.”

  “Not that lucky. It looks about the right size, but it’s the wrong foot.”

  “Oh.” I looked around, wondering where it might have come from, and spotted something sticking out from a rocky ledge at head height a few feet to my right.

  “Stay where you are,” the president said.

  “What?” I was surprised. Since leaving the site of the escape pod, I had been giving all the orders, because this was my forest and he was the stranger. I didn’t understand why he suddenly thought he should be giving them. But then, he was an adult, and adults always thought they knew best — probably even more so when they were the President of the United States.

  “I said, ‘stay where you are.’ ” He put a hand on my arm and walked past, going to the rocky ledge and looking up. He stood there for a moment, then began to climb. When he put his hand on the t
op, ready to pull himself up, he snatched it back and looked at his fingers.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “Just stay there.” He got a good grip on the rocks and hauled himself up, making a better job of it than he had earlier.

  For a few seconds he said nothing. All I could hear was the wind and the distant thumping of the helicopter. Then the president spoke.

  “Otis. Oh God, no.”

  I watched him, deciding that he wasn’t in charge here. This was my forest and I knew it better than he did, so I hopped across the boulders and climbed up the rocks to see what he had found.

  The dead man was wearing a suit, just like the man who had appeared from the trees where the pod had come down. He was lying faceup on the rocky outcrop, with one shoeless foot sticking out over the edge. He was twisted in an awkward way, so his arms were in strange positions, and one leg was tucked underneath him, but his face just looked like he had fallen asleep with his eyes open. There wasn’t a scratch on it.

  I knew he was dead, just like Patu and just like the man by the escape pod.

  “You know him?” I heard myself ask.

  The president was crouched beside the body, with one fist to his mouth as if to keep calm. He swallowed hard. “Otis. Part of my guard detail.”

  “Bodyguards, you mean?” I took a deep breath and looked out across the ledge, where other dark shapes were splayed on the rocks.

  The president nodded.

  “And there are others, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is it them?” I raised my arm and pointed.

  The president turned to follow the line of my finger. He stared for a moment, then stood and went to look at the other bodies. I stayed where I was. I didn’t want to see any more dead people.

  “Stanley,” he said looking at the first man. “And Clay,” he said when he came to the other. His voice was quiet and sounded like it was breaking. He stood with his head lowered and his hands on his face. “What happened to them?”

  The president came back to me and rolled Otis onto his front to reveal the unopened parachute strapped to the man’s back. He crouched and looked at the fastenings.

  “Oh God,” he said.