Hunting Time

by

Anthony Servante

It was hunting time. Harper Knutssen opened the door and felt the cold blast of air chill his face. He’d have to down a bear not only for food but for the pelt, so he could make himself a coat with a hood to cover his face. The winter came upon him suddenly this year, and the cabin needed to be reworked to keep the heat in. He stepped into the snow, and his feet steeped into the 8 inches of powdery ice.

In the distance, just before the forest became thickened and dark, there ran a single deer, alone, lost, trying to find its bearings. I stalked it as the beast dumb with cold changed directions several times, entering the forest, exiting, stopping and turning its head as it realized I was upon it. My knife entered the warmth of its flesh. It fell instantly, but it wasn’t a clean kill. Its heart yet beat. I plunged the weapon into the pumping organ to put the animal out of its misery. Its doe eyes glazed as they watched me with morbid curiosity.

In the cabin, I skinned the deer and butchered it into sections for cooking. I’d eat later. What was important now was the pelt to cover my face from the freezing wind. There were white bears about. With the proper attire for hunting, I would down the big beast and make a blanket.

What a life I had chosen for myself all those years ago. The marriage didn’t work. She was an evil woman, an unfaithful creature. It was good to be away from the civilized animals, those unpredictable beasts. Alone I was safe. My heart untroubled. But it was my first winter here, and I was unprepared. Luckily the frozen door was ajar that morning. I would have to be quick to ready myself to survive the long months ahead. The deer meat would last perhaps a month. I still needed more meat. Bear meat. The white beasts would be looking for caves to hibernate. They were vulnerable then. I wiped my blade clean and resumed the hunt.

Another hunter eyed the blood from the deer I killed. What was he doing on my land? I sneaked up on him and slit his throat and dragged his body into the forest. Let the animals feast on him. It was the law of the uncivilized here. He should have known that. You don’t hunt the prey of another hunter. It’s the code of the animals.

Then I saw the bear in the distance, about a hundred yards as the crow flies. It was a big one. It seemed to be looking for something, perhaps a last meal before hibernation. It didn’t matter. I leaped upon his furry back and stabbed the knife into its neck. Blood sprayed every where. I was lucky to have severed an artery. I dropped to the ground and stepped back as the beast fell to four paws, then tipped over. I could not carry such a heavy animal to the cabin, so I first skinned it and cut it into several portions. It took half a dozen trips to and from the cabin to finally bring the entire bear home.

I felt safe now. But suddenly another hunter broke through the door and fired his weapon at me. My arm caught on fire. I threw the knife at him. It stuck in his eye. He dropped to his knees and fell on his face, pushing the knife deeper into his brain. As I got to my feet, a third hunter fired his weapon. The searing pain landed in my belly. I rushed the fiend and choke him. Again the gun explodes, but the bullet strikes the ground. I bit his throat and hear the larynx pop. He gasped for air for a few minutes. I watched him die in the doorway. I wanted to close the door but I was too weak. I sat. The freezing winter entered the cabin. There was nothing I could do now to prevent it. I surrendered to the sleep as I leaned against the carcass of the bear.

The County law authorities arrived the next morning when the morning shift nurses found the three dead male nurses. One had his throat torn out by what looked like human teeth marks. The second had his adam’s apple shoved into his esophagus. The third knocked unconscious, tied and skinned alive. When the muscular male nurse entered his hospital cell, he found the door was unlocked, forced open somehow. It would take animal strength to do that. And the horror awaited him. The doctor on duty as well as a female nurse and the receptionist were butchered and hanging in the patient’s room. A bed sheet was bundled in the corner and used for a fire. The doctor’s lighter lay by the blackened blanket. He backed out of the room quickly and notified the police. Why did he do it? They asked. The nurse said he was harmless and loved to stare at the calendar picture on the wall depicting a cabin in the snow. One thing though. Yesterday he kept complaining that it was too cold. I asked the doctor to reduce the air conditioning a bit, but he said that it would do the patient good. Well, said the detective, that explains the human skin suit he was wearing. Man loses his wife in a hunting accident and then this. You head doctors probably could explain this one better than a homicide detective.

His dead eyes never left the calendar. He didn’t notice the other hunters in his cabin and no longer cared.