by Daniel Smith
“Right.”
“It’s a deal, then.” He finished his sausage and leaned over to take another from me. “As long as it’s okay with your mom and dad, of course.” He skewered the sausage and held it over the flames. “You never mentioned your mom. Is she a hunter, too?”
I stared at the fire and took a deep breath. “She died. Last year.”
“Oh … I’m sorry … I …”
“It isn’t your fault,” I said, without looking up. “Why do people always say ‘sorry’ when it isn’t their fault?”
He sighed. “Well, I guess it’s because they feel bad and they wish there was something they could do. And, maybe, because there isn’t really anything else to say.”
“Then they should say nothing.”
“Maybe you’re right.”
I continued to stare into the flames, watching the way they danced and curled around each other. The heat was fierce on my face. “She had cancer in her head. She was sick for a long time and then …” I gritted my teeth and fought back the tears. My voice was tight in my throat. “Dad is still very sad. He’s not the same as he used to be. I thought that maybe if I got a good trophy it would make him happy, but that’s not going to happen now.”
I could feel the president watching me across the fire, leaning back and looking away only when something scuttled across the rocks in the dark. He studied the emptiness beyond the fire for a while, then turned back to me. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
I shook my head and sniffed. “Mom always said one was more than enough trouble.”
The president laughed gently. “My mom said something similar whenever I asked her why I didn’t have a brother or sister. I guess we have something in common, eh?” He leaned forward to put his food over the fire once more. “So what made you ask about power?”
“No reason.”
He sat there, waiting for me to go on.
“My father is powerful,” I said. “In fact, my family is very famous here. Maybe you recognize my dad’s name. Tapio. It’s the same name as the forest god.”
“I’m sorry. I never heard of him.”
I shrugged. “You don’t know much about hunting.”
“That’s true.”
I took the photograph from my pocket and handed it to the president. “This is my dad.”
He studied it for a while, nodding. “And that’s the bear you told me about.”
“Yes.”
“Wow, that’s … impressive.”
“In my village, we all do this when we turn thirteen. We come into the forest for a night and a day, and what we kill shows the world what we are as a man.” I remembered Hamara’s words, remembered him standing on the platform beside me, doubting that I would manage to hunt anything at all.
“That’s what you meant by ‘trophy’ just now?” the president asked.
“Yes.”
He looked up from the photo. “So what does it mean if you kill a bear?”
“That the man is brave and strong.”
“And now it’s your turn, huh?”
“Tomorrow is my birthday. When morning comes, I will be a man. ‘A boy sets out into the wilderness, but it is a man who will return.’ That’s what Hamara said.”
“Hamara?”
“He’s our elder.”
The president watched me for a while longer, still nodding as if he understood something. Now he knew why I was out here alone. “And I guess I’ve messed it all up for you. I’m sorry.”
“Mom used to say the buck would be my animal because it means the man will be quick and smart and inde … indep …” The English word for it was on the tip of my tongue but refused to come out.
“You mean ‘independent’?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I think you’ve got those things covered already.” He glanced down at the bow and pointed at it with a tilt of his chin. “And that?”
“I have to use it. It’s the traditional bow; the one we all use. It’s at least a hundred years old.”
“Really? It doesn’t look that old.”
“It’s been well looked after.”
“No one would know if you used a different one,” he said. “One that wasn’t so big.”
“I would know.”
“Of course you would. You’re very honest, Oskari, and that’s a good thing to be. You’re stronger than you think, too.” He handed the photo back to me. “You look like him.”
“We’re made from the same wood, me and my dad.” I tucked the photo away. “He believes in me even though everyone else thinks I’m a bad hunter. When Hamara gave me the bow, I couldn’t even draw it all the way and some of the boys laughed, but I decided I would try my hardest to make Dad proud. Now, though, I’ll have to be rescued and we’ll both look bad.”
“These are exceptional circumstances, Oskari.”
“Doesn’t matter. You have to be tough in Finland.” I took a bite of my sausage. “Everyone has to see that you are tough.”
“Well, you got us away from those men and brought us here. You covered our tracks, made a fire and shelter. Fed us. I can tell everyone that.” The president leaned forward and turned the skewer in his fingers as he spoke. “Anyway, instead of being tough, you can just look tough. And let me tell you, I’m a world expert on that.” The firelight reflected from his face and glittered in his eyes as he spoke. “Hell, I read self-help books and eat cookies. Morris laughs at me because I can’t even do ten push-ups.” He looked down when he said that, and I knew he would be thinking about the bodies we had found on the rocks.
“Let me tell you a story,” he said. “When I gave my last State of the Union address, I suddenly needed to pee just before it was about to begin. So I dashed to the toilet, with only minutes to go, and in my hurry, I tried to … ah, ‘replace’ myself a little too quickly, and some of it splashed. Hit my upper trouser zone.”
I burst out laughing. I couldn’t help it. The idea of the President of the United States peeing on his own trousers was ridiculous.
“Exactly.” He shrugged. “Happens to us all, eh? Anyway, moments later, I had to walk out, on to the floor of the House Chamber, which is a huge room filled with important people. The eyes of America were on me, and I had to go out there with a sizable wet patch on my groin.”
“Oh my God.”
“Look it up sometime,” he said, “and notice the way I’m holding my notes to obscure the disaster area. And then notice the way I give my address. My voice doesn’t shake, my nerve doesn’t break, I command the attention of the room. Inside, though, I’m terrified. I’m a mess. I think I’m going to go down in history as the president who peed his pants. But on the outside, I’m a rock.”
“So what happened?”
“No one noticed. The moment passed. And there’s only two people on this entire planet that even know it happened. Me, and you.”
“Wow.”
“You won’t tell anyone, right?”
“As long as you don’t tell anyone I missed the rabbit.”
“Deal.”
Together, we pulled invisible zips over our mouths, locked them, and threw the keys into the fire.
The president laughed, good and loud, and I laughed with him, but after that, he didn’t say much, and I watched him as we finished our meal and licked our fingers clean. From time to time the breeze would catch the fire and it would flare up and buzz, then retreat into the circle of rocks, but that was the only sound.
A little later, as we both sat, lost in our own thoughts, the wind picked up and a light flurry of snow began to tumble in the chilly mountain air.
“Snow?” the president said. “In spring?”
“We’re high up now,” I replied. “And very far north. It can snow at any time of year.”
“This place really is tough.”
I smiled. “Well, your clothes are probably dry now. You should get dressed.”
“Yeah.” He checked them and said they were good enough, then re-dr
essed and sat back down in his place, exactly as he had been before. The small badge on his lapel glinted in the firelight, and I could just about make out the blue and red of the US flag.
The president’s expression was serious and he was biting his lower lip as he stared into the flames. He rubbed a hand over his bald head. “You asked what it’s like to be powerful, Oskari. Well, one thing is that you’re always wondering who you can trust.”
“You can trust me,” I said.
“I don’t mean you. I mean that someone set this up,” he said. “Someone sabotaged my men’s parachutes. I have a feeling it was someone I thought I could trust.”
“Who?”
“The man we saw at the crash site.”
“Hazar?”
He shook his head.
“The man in the suit?”
“I think I know who it is. I don’t want to believe it, and I’m not sure how he even managed it but … no.” He shook his head again. “It couldn’t be.” He fell into silence once more, and I could tell he wasn’t going to say anything else.
“I think maybe you should sleep now.” I stifled a yawn. “I’ll keep watch.”
“I should do that. I’m the adult —” He stopped, as if he realized he was saying something I wouldn’t like. “I owe you.”
“You don’t owe me anything, President. I was going to come here anyway. I was going to stay up all night and hunt. I will keep watch instead, and if a buck or a bear walks across my path, I will be ready to kill it.” I held up the bow so he could see I had it ready. “Maybe I can kill a trophy after all.”
“And what if those men come?”
“I’ll hear them before they ever see us.”
“Well, make sure you wake me if you hear anything. I’ll keep this close.” He showed me the pistol, then lay down in the dirt and placed the weapon on the ground beside him. He hesitated, as if he was going to suggest he keep watch again, but I shook my head at him.
“Go to sleep,” I said.
He sighed, then threw the blanket across himself and moved about until he was comfortable.
“Good night, President,” I said.
“Good night, Oskari.”
The president was a snorer, which was funny at first, but grew annoying after a while. As the night went on, his grunts and snuffles competed with the cold wind that whistled around the plateau, bringing the snow. The fire was warm, though, and we were well protected under the overhang, and despite my efforts to stay awake, my eyes began to close. I shook my head, slapped my face, and walked around for a bit. I went out into the cold air beyond the overhang, collecting more wood, but nothing stopped the drowsiness. I was exhausted, and as soon as I sat down, my mind began to cloud over.
Eventually I lost the battle, and sleep smothered me, bringing strange visions. Hamara looking down at me, disapproving, while Dad hung his head in shame. The ATV, crushed by a tree, damaged beyond repair. Fireballs raining from a coal-black sky, and Patu’s dead eyes staring at me as I struggled to draw the bow. The images all mixed together in a nightmare that sloshed like heavy water in my head, and through it all, there was that grunting noise.
Myygh! Myygh!
That’s what woke me up. A long, loud grunt that startled my eyes open. For a second I didn’t know where I was and I stumbled to my feet, gripping the bow that had been across my lap. The morning air was cool and fresh, and there was still a fluttering of snow in the air. The fire had burned right down to embers that could only manage a weak glow in the gathering daylight. Bleary-eyed, I looked about as last night’s events came rushing back to grip me like an icy fist. It was as if a hand had punched right through me and grabbed my insides and started to squeeze them tight.
But there was light behind the thick clouds, morning was here, and that meant we only had to last a few more hours before Dad would come looking for us. And the man in the suit had said that the president’s soldiers would be looking for us by dawn. Rescue was on its way.
I looked down at the president, lying on his side, and I still couldn’t quite believe that the actual President of the USA was right there, huddled under my old blanket. When the noise came again, though — that long, loud grunt — I realized it wasn’t coming from him. He was breathing heavily, but not snoring anymore, and —
Myygh! Myygh!
An elk! That was the sound of an elk calling!
My brain finally kicked into gear and I dropped into a crouch, looking out across the plateau, squinting through the snow that danced in the wind. The covering that had fallen in the night was powdery and thin, made patchy by the darkness of the rocks that protruded from beneath it. Each breath of fresh mountain air stung my nostrils, and every time I exhaled, it rose in wisps around my face. I stayed that way, scanning the terrain, but there was nothing to see other than scruffy grass poking through the snow, and a few straggly trees with spindly branches. There was an elk out there somewhere, though, so I crept away from the overhang, nocking an arrow into the bowstring, and kept low as I moved into the open.
My heart was pounding, and everything about the president was forgotten. Nothing mattered anymore. There was an elk close by and I was going to hunt and kill it. It wouldn’t escape me like the deer that had run away from the helicopter. This was my trophy, and in spite of everything that had happened, I would carry its head over my back when I left the forest.
Moving slowly and quietly, I made my way across the plateau, scanning the snow for the dung or split-hoof print of an elk.
Myygh! Myygh!
Behind and to my left.
I turned to the place where the plateau gently sloped up and around toward Dad’s secret hunting ground, and I remained still, letting my eyes unfocus. My breathing softened and my mind became calm as I waited for my vision to find it. And then, there it was — standing about thirty feet higher than my position, at the top of a gentle, rocky incline, dotted with boulders and a couple of scrawny spruce trees.
The elk was huge, with powerful back legs and a gentle hump along the ridge of its back. Its head dipped toward the ground as it foraged for food, and its antlers branched out into a series of deadly points.
I studied the way the snow fell, seeing the fine particles drift downhill. Perfect. I was under the wind. If I remained quiet, I would be able to get close enough to take a shot. The bow was too big, but I was determined to find the strength this time. I must not fail.
As I watched, the elk raised its head and grunted, long and loud.
Myygh! Myygh!
“What the hell was that?”
The words took me by surprise and I snapped around to see the president standing by the firebreak, with the blanket wrapped around his shoulders.
“Happy birthday,” he said, and was about to speak again when he saw the furious expression on my face. I didn’t waste any time watching him. I threw him a warning glance, then turned back to the elk.
It had heard the president, and turned its bulky head to look in our direction. It stood perfectly still, muscles tensed.
I did the same. I held my breath, and only one thought raced through my head, over and over again.
Please stay there. Please stay there. Please stay there.
The elk stared at me and I stared back.
Time stood still.
The elk lifted its head a little higher and its nose moved as it tested the wind, searching for a scent. After a moment, it tipped its head right back, so its antlers were almost touching its back, and it opened its mouth once more.
Myygh! Myygh!
Then it trotted away, over the ridge, and disappeared from view.
“No!” I whispered, heart sinking.
I looked back at the president, letting him see how angry I was.
He mouthed the word “sorry,” but I didn’t waste any more time. I wouldn’t lose it, not this time. Trying to swallow my anger and remain calm, I set off up the slope, following the prints left in the snow, but they were disappearing quickly beneath the fresh fall
. With a bit of luck, the animal wouldn’t go too far and I would be able to track and catch up with it.
Feeling the wind in my face, I crept up the slope, keeping the bow ready to fire. I took short steps, keeping silent as I moved, being careful not to disturb the small rocks and send them rattling down the slope.
When I reached the top of the incline, I crouched and brought the bow up. I was as excited and nervous as I had ever been. My blood was swooshing in my ears and my cold hands were shaking. I stayed low and concentrated on calming my breathing. I closed my eyes and tried to relax.
A steady heart means a steady hand.
When I began to feel calmer, I swallowed to wet my throat, then opened my mouth and let out the best elk call I had ever done. It was easily as good as Dad’s. Better than Hamara’s, probably. If the elk were close enough, he would be fooled into staying where he was, casting a curious look in my direction. He would be there when I came over the lip of the slope, and I would have to shoot. I couldn’t hesitate. I couldn’t afford to miss the chance again.
I called once more, began to draw the bowstring, then stood and moved up onto the level ground.
Beyond the ridge, I was surprised to see a flat meadow surrounded by boulders and pines that swayed in the wind. I had never been to this part of Mount Akka and would not have expected to see something like this so high up. The land was soft and it looked like there was a good covering of grass beneath the snow. It was a perfect place for animals to come and graze. This was Dad’s secret hunting ground. I scanned left and right, letting my eyes unfocus, but I felt my heart sink: Once again, I had missed my chance. There was no sign of the elk. It had gone, and its tracks had already disappeared beneath the snow.
Instead, there was something else in the middle of the hunting ground — something that was completely out of place.
It was right there, out in the open.
A large white box.
From where I was standing, it looked like a large freezer chest, but that couldn’t be right. Who would leave a freezer chest out in the middle of the wilderness?
I watched it for a long while, scanning the rest of the hunting ground, scrutinizing everything, wondering if this was some sort of joke. Maybe some of the other boys had found out about this place and had come here to play some kind of trick on me. Risto and Broki, most likely.