The Hunter

by Kurt Robinson

  “Shit!” Travers said behind Adam. “The car is out of gas.”

  “I noticed,” Adam said turning around. He looked at Mr. Mob Guy’s SUVs. “We’ll figure out a way to siphon gas from those.”

  All four men got out of the cars. Their eyes were drooping as they stretched, yawned, and shook from the cold. They each gathered their weapons because they knew they were about to go out looking for the man who tried to kill them. Adam Hart looked at them and then looked toward the entrance of the warehouse. He thought about the whole ordeal they were in and how he should be out hunting with his best friend right now, something they have done together for years and had to miss because of this fuck up. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and a Zippo lighter and lit one. At least he could smoke, which he could not do when he and John went hunting.

  “Adam?” Cavanah said from behind as he walked toward him. “I know we have another problem right now but we’re gonna come back to this eventually. How are we going to cover this up? The deaths of Sharp, Owens, and Wilson?”

  Without hesitation, Adam said, “This was a drug deal gone wrong, right?”

  “Yeah,” said Cavanah.

  “Then that’s what it’ll be. We find our man out there, bring him back, move all these bodies around, plant the guns by them, and then we burn the place down.”

  “Burn it down?” Travers asked, surprised. “You mean burn Sharp, Owens, and Wilson?”

  “That’s right. A drug deal gone wrong. A gunfight breaks out, and bullets inadvertently hit the gas tanks and the place goes up in smoke. We blow up one of the cars and set the rest of the place on fire. Nothing left, no evidence of us, nothing. It’ll take them a few hours to get here anyway in this weather and being this far out. It’ll all be gone by then. And we all go home.”

  “Those are our friends right there!” Travers yelled, not liking the plan. “You can’t burn them! What about their families? They get no body to bury? Nothing!?”

  “They’ll get a police funeral!” Adam yelled and turned around, toward Travers. “Anyone would be lucky to have a funeral like that! So that’s it! This is how it’s going down.”

  “This is bullshit! You can’t do that to them!” Travers shouted.

  Adam turned completely around, threw his cigarette on the ground, stepped toward Travers, made a fist with his right hand, and punched Travers right in the face. Travers hit the ground hard, holding the left side of his face. Adam kneeled down next to him and grabbed him by the collar. “You don’t get it, do you?” Adam began. “We’re in bed now, partners in crime. Connected at the hip like an old married couple. Whatever we do, you do. Whatever needs to be done, will be done. To ensure our way of life and innocence, you do what you’re told. You’ve crossed over officer, and there’s no crossing back. So, get the fuck up and do what I say!” Adam finished and pushed Travers back toward the ground.

  Adam looked at the others and said, “Are we ready?” They all shook their heads. “Then let’s go.”

  Nine

  Saturday - 5:21 A.M.

  It was freezing, quiet, and dark with almost every star visible, and the moon’s light still reflected off the snow covered open field in front of him, which sat untouched. For John Watkins, this was perfect; the cold, the quietness, and the beautiful snow on the ground. He wished every day could be like this. He knew that the sun would rise in a little over an hour and that it was only supposed to be partly cloudy today, but it was going to stay at the same temperature, which was well below freezing. It was going to be a perfect day for hunting.

  He sat in the two-person tree stand. It was still small; it had four walls with four windows, a ceiling, and a floor with a door to get into the tree stand. The tree itself was the ladder, with two-by-fours screwed into the tree. His rifle leaned against the wall in front of him with the barrel sticking up in front of the window. His backpack sat in the empty chair next to him, which he wished Adam was sitting in. He was sure he would hear or see something soon.

  Fifteen minutes of peace and quiet went by and then he heard snow crunching behind him. He turned his head around slowly, keeping the rest of his body still, careful not to make any noise, and saw what he had been waiting for all year. It was at least a twelve-point buck approaching him from the woods. The deer was about thirty yards behind him and looked like it would come out of the woods to his right.

  John was correct, and as he watched the deer move at its own leisurely pace, the buck cleared the tree line to John’s right and made his way into the open field. As the deer put tracks in the perfect blanket of snow, John grabbed his rifle and slowly brought it up. The deer made his way down the sloped hill in front of the tree stand. John got his rifle up against his shoulder and out the window. As John did that, something must have spooked the dear because he took off running down the hill fast, throwing up snow behind him. “Shit,” John whispered as he watched the buck run probably two hundred yards and then stop, almost to the tree line on the other side of the field.

  The massive deer looked around and then dipped his head toward the snow and sniffed. John watched his prey through the scope of his rifle, but he didn’t have a shot because the deer had its back to him. John was patient, as any good hunter would be, and waited see what the deer would do. It would either run into the woods and be gone forever or it would turn and give John the perfect target.

  After a few minutes, the deer finally turned and exposed its side, giving John the shot he was waiting for. He moved the crosshairs into position right behind the deer’s shoulder as the deer looked around again. John held his breath and squeezed the trigger. His shot echoed as the .30-06 round hit the deer behind the left shoulder. The deer took off running in a panic into the tree line right across from John.

  John gave out a smile because he knew he hit his target. He stood up, put the rifle strap around him with the rifle across his front, and put the backpack on his back. “Alright, let’s see where he went,” John said aloud to himself and then climbed down the ladder. Once down on the ground, he walked to the ATV, took off his backpack, and set it on the seat. He took off his rifle and strapped it on the gun rack on the front, put his backpack back on, got on the ATV, and started it.

  John backed the ATV out of the woods, then turned it sharp, and took off through the snowy field. He drove through the tracks left by the deer. He sped up as he went down the hill, snow thrown behind him several feet in the air. Once he reached the spot where he hit the deer he slowed down. He saw the blood spray in the snow and saw the blood trail that led into the woods. He gave it gas and drove the ATV until he reached the edge of the woods and came to a stop. He gazed into the woods and tried to follow the blood trail with his eyes, but there were too many trees. Then he heard three gunshots go off in sequence, which surprised him - not the gunshots themselves, but how fast they followed each other. He looked around for a second, trying to see anything or hear anything else, and then brushed it off.

  He turned off the ATV, got off, grabbed his rifle, and followed the blood trail. He carried his rifle with him as he made his way through the trees. The blood was easy to follow on the pure white snow. It also hit low branches, tree trunks, and leaves that had not yet fallen off in the early snow. He followed the blood at least one hundred fifty yards into the woods. This is a tough son of a bitch, John thought as he tromped through the snow.

  Finally, he saw the buck lying in red snow as he made his way around a large tree trunk. He neared it and saw that it was dead. He leaned his rifle against the large tree, took off his backpack, set it in the snow, and pulled out his Gerber Myth Fixed Blade Pro Knife with a gut hook. He took the knife out of its sheath and kneeled next to the deer. He began cutting the skin under the deer when he heard voices to his right, they were close but not too close. The voices sounded angry and deep.

  John Watkins stopped what he was doing and stood up. He was curious as to what was going on. He put the knife back in its sheath, put it in his backpack, put his backpack on,
and grabbed his rifle. He looked down at his deer, but knew that it would be fine if he left it for a few minutes. John made his way through more trees, but then realized that he wasn’t very far from another tree line. He moved slowly, trying not to make any noise in the snow, and came to a stop a few trees shy of the tree line. He kneeled and looked out into another open field where he saw four men standing around something. Two of the men then got on their knees and began to dig into the snow, where something black slowly emerged. John could not tell what it was yet, so he continued watching. Then, one of the men digging pulled up what looked like a briefcase and handed it to a man standing above them. This man looked like he was in charge.

  When this man moved to grab the briefcase, John saw an orange blob on the ground behind him with what appeared to be blood soaked snow around it. John then figured out it was a hunter and he was dead. Blood also covered the man’s orange hunting jacket. Shocked, John brought his rifle up to use his scope to get a closer look. He put the scope on the man holding the briefcase, who had it open checking what was inside. The man then closed the briefcase and gave a smirk. John could feel his heart beating in his throat because he recognized the man. It was his best friend, Adam Hart.

  He brought the rifle down fast and panicked slightly as his eyes widened. He didn’t know what was going on so he didn’t know what to think, but it didn’t look good. John knew he just saw something he wasn’t supposed to. His adrenaline and distraction of what he just saw caused him not to pay attention to what was going on behind him. He didn’t hear any crunching snow under someone’s feet. However, he heard a quick, “Hey,” and jerked his head around where the butt end of an M4 rifle struck him in the head, knocking him out cold.

  Ten

  Saturday - 6:55 A.M.

  John Watkins’ head was throbbing as it hung downward with his chin touching his chest; he had a killer headache, and had a stream of dried blood down the right side of his face. He wanted to open his eyes but almost couldn’t, his head was hurting badly. He kept his eyes closed a little while longer. He realized he was sitting in a very old chair, but also realized he was not tied up. His hands were placed on his lap and were just lying there. Then he heard voices and they were angry again - an argument was on going and it appeared to be about John.

  “We have got to kill him!” one voice demanded.

  “We are not killing him, do you fuckin’ get me!?” another voice rang out, which sounded familiar to John.

  “He saw us out there. We’ve got to kill him like the others.”

  “No, we fuckin’ don’t. I’ve known him since we were kids, I’ll talk to him when he wakes up,” the second voice said and right then John knew it was Adam. “You try anything and I’ll fuckin’ kill you, you got that?”

  “Yeah, I got it,” the first voice said, sounding enraged. “But if this goes south, it’s your fuckin’ fault. We should at least tie him up.”

  “Fuck off,” Adam told the man.

  John felt almost nauseated at the whole situation, even though he didn’t know what was going on yet. If nothing else, he knew Adam was into something he shouldn’t be and was in charge. John opened his eyes; his vision was slightly blurry for a few seconds and then became clear. He raised his head up slowly and looked around. First, he noticed that his backpack, rifle, pistol, and phone were sitting on the trunk of one of the shot up police cars, which he was facing. He saw that he was in some kind of warehouse and that a door in the back was open. The large sliding door at the front was closed now. Next, John saw several dead bodies next to each other, along with the hunter in the orange jacket he saw earlier. Next to the bodies was his ATV. Finally, he now saw five men - one of which must have been the one that knocked him out and gave him the splitting headache - including his best friend, Adam Hart. They all finally saw he was awake and walked over to him, Adam in the lead.

  Cavanah and Lewis pulled out their pistols and pointed them at him, but Adam was quick on the draw as well yelling, “Hey! Put those down, now! Don’t even think about it!” The men complied, hesitantly. They all neared John as Adam walked right up to him and then squatted to John’s level.

  “John? John can you hear me?” Adam asked.

  “Adam? What the…what the hell is going on?” John asked as he brought his hands up to his head.

  “Don’t move your fuckin’ hands!” Officer Lewis yelled.

  “Shut the fuck up!” Adam yelled back and then turned back to John. “Listen John, you ran into a little hiccup of ours. You saw us doing something; do you remember what you saw?”

  “I got hit in the head,” John said feeling a little dizzy and disoriented all of a sudden.

  “Yeah, you did. I’m sorry about that. But, buddy, this is important, what did you see out there?” Adam asked again.

  “You holding open a briefcase,” John told him. “And two dead bodies. What’s going on?”

  “Okay, listen buddy, you didn’t see anything, okay? Just a misunderstanding. All you have to do-“

  “Oh, fuck this shit!” Lewis yelled. “Look at him, look at his eyes, he knows what he saw and he’ll go squeal the second you let him go!”

  “If you don’t shut your goddamn mouth!” Adam turned around and demanded.

  “Who are they, Adam?” John asked, still not quite himself.

  “I’m the motherfucker that knocked you in the head!” Lewis told him. “And I don’t trust you.” The other three men were now looking at John with distrust too. He started to get an uneasy feeling and was now coming to his senses.

  “Take him over there, now!” Adam demanded, but none of them listened to him.

  “Adam, we can’t let him live. I don’t care who he is to you,” Cavanah said. “He saw what we did out there. He can’t be trusted.”

  “We are not doing anything to him!” Adam ordered.

  “Adam, what the fuck is going on?” John asked.

  “I’ll do it if you can’t,” Cavanah told Adam.

  “We’re not doing shit!” Adam said again.

  “Hasn’t there been enough killing here already?” asked Travers.

  “Do you wanna go to jail for the rest of your life?” Levinson asked Travers.

  “We gotta fucking kill him!” Lewis urged.

  “I agree, boss. I’m sorry, but we can’t let him live,” Cavanah concurred with Lewis.

  “He’s seen too much,” Levinson added.

  “We can’t…” Travers began.

  “Travers, if you don’t-“ Cavanah started but Lewis got his words in again.

  “He’s seen everything now because our fearless leader wouldn’t let us kill him out there or at least blindfold him. Hell, he isn’t even tied up! We kill him now,” Lewis finished by bringing his pistol up and pointing it at John’s head.

  Adam grabbed his arm quickly and pushed it down, “I will fucking kill you myself if you do that again. You think I’m fucking kidding then try it. You don’t make the rules here, you follow them! So, fuck off!”

  “Adam, this has to be done,” Cavanah persuaded.

  “No! He is my best friend and we’ve known each other since we were kids! He will not tell anyone! Right, John?” Adam asked as he turned back to John, still sitting in the old half-rotted chair they found in the back of the warehouse.

  Confused on whether doing the right thing or hiding everything he saw for his best friend, John asked, “What are you mixed up in, Adam?”

  “See, he wants to know! He’s gonna turn us in if you let him go!” Lewis went off again.

  “That doesn’t matter,” Adam began, ignoring Lewis. “What matters is that you don’t speak of this, okay? That’s all you gotta do. That’s it. Just forget about it. Go home to April and your unborn child. We’ll go on like this never happened.”

  “What is this?” John asked for even reasons he could not explain. All he had to do was say he would keep his mouth shut, but he couldn’t. Something told him not to, he couldn’t live with that. But, was it worth his life? I
f it wasn’t for Adam he would be dead already. These other men were ready to kill him. He was a good man and had always been. So no, he knew he could not live with covering up murder and whatever was in that briefcase. This decision would change his life.

  “What?” Adam asked. “John please, they will kill you, do you understand? Just tell us you’ll say nothing. I’ll give you money, whatever you want.”

  “I thought I knew you,” John began. “After all these years, you’re not a cop, you’re a criminal.”

  “John, what the fuck are you doing?” Adam asked, wide eyed.

  “The right thing. I will not live the way you do, now that I know who you really are. I’d rather die a good man, than live a corrupt one.”

  Adam’s face turned stoic and he stood up, “So, this is what you would rather do? Die for something you know nothing about.”

  “I know enough.”

  “You would let poor April become a widow and your unborn child grow up without a father? How pathetic. I could’ve saved you, but it’s too late now.” Adam told him, looking down on him. Lewis now gave off a grin, knowing what was about to happen. “Now, all you’ll be is a memory. I’ll tell April…something.” Adam finished, turned his back to John, and gave Lewis a nod. Nevertheless, Adam still couldn’t watch.

  “You can’t do this,” Travers pleaded, but was ignored.

  Officer Lewis stepped forward, held up his stainless-steel Sig Sauer P226 9mm, and pointed it at John’s head. John looked up at him and then very quickly without thinking - it must have been a survival instinct - he grabbed Lewis’ hand with the gun, pushed it upwards, and kicked him in the balls. Lewis yelled in pain. John stood up quickly, turned the gun toward Travers and shot him in the right bicep, blood spraying from the wound as he yelled in pain. John then gave Lewis a push and he fell into Adam, knocking them both to the ground. Next, John swiftly grabbed the old chair he was sitting in and threw it at Cavanah and Levinson, who were standing right beside each other. Before they knew what hit them, the chair shattered as it slammed into the two of them, knocking them to the ground.