Big Game

by Daniel Smith

  I squatted in the snow and placed the bow across my lap, then cupped my hands behind my ears and listened. There was no sound other than the wind in the trees and the occasional lilt of birdsong.

  I waited a few more minutes, the snow settling on my shoulders, then took up the bow again and inched closer to the strange white box. There were no prints close to it, just untouched fresh snow. All the time, I scanned this way and that, searching for anything out of the ordinary.

  As I came closer to the box, I saw that it was, indeed, what I had first thought. A large white freezer chest, scratched and dented. It was an old kind, with a latch on the outside, like the one at home that Dad used to store the meat he brought back from hunting. It was easily big enough to fit a grown man inside, and I began to wonder if some of the boys were inside this one, ready to jump out and scare me.

  Well, it wouldn’t work. I wouldn’t be afraid, and one of them was likely to get an arrow in him if he wasn’t careful.

  When I was right next to it, I leaned down and put my ear to it, half expecting to hear heavy breathing, or maybe giggling.

  Nothing.

  I looked around once more and reached down to open the freezer chest, clicking the latch up with a good tug. It popped open right away, so I prepared myself for some kind of surprise and swung the door open.

  My first instinct was to take a step back, because the smell that flooded out from the freezer chest was strong with blood and death.

  “Ugh!”

  Without thinking, I turned my head and wafted my hands in front of me to get rid of the stink. It clung to my nostrils, though, sliding up into my brain and down into my lungs. The heavy stench seemed to fill every part of me, and even when the worst of it was gone, the ghost of it remained. I put a hand over my mouth and swallowed hard, trying to get rid of the taste of it.

  I stood like that for a moment, staring out at the wilderness, then took a deep breath of cold air, letting it wash through me. Feeling better, I turned back to the freezer chest, moving closer to it once more, leaning over to look at what was inside.

  The buck’s head was lying on melting blocks of ice tinged red with blood. It was twisted at an awkward angle to allow for the antlers, but it hadn’t been a large animal, otherwise it would never have fitted into the freezer. One eye was visible, but it was dull and dead, reflecting almost no light at all. Its mouth was open slightly, and I could just see the pink fleshy tongue touching its black lips. There was a layer of thick, bloody liquid in the bottom of the box, and as I watched, snowflakes drifted in to settle on the surface of the liquid and turn red, before dissolving.

  Whoever had killed this animal had cut off the head, leaving just a small part of its neck, from which a wooden arrow now hung. It was exactly the same type of arrow as the ones Hamara had given me, right down to the type of feathers used for the fletching.

  I struggled to understand what I was looking at. I could see that it was a buck’s head, complete with antlers, but I couldn’t understand why it was there. It didn’t make any sense.

  I stepped away and watched the trees, then turned to watch the slope I had just climbed.

  Nothing.

  Looking back into the freezer chest, I studied the dead head once more, then glanced up and noticed something stuck to the underside of the door.

  A small sheet of white paper, folded in half and held in place by a piece of tape.

  My cold, stiff fingers shook when I reached out to take it. A dark thought was creeping up on me. A thought that would explain what this was doing here. Someone had put this head here for a reason. They had left it on ice for a reason, too, and I was beginning to suspect that I knew who and why.

  Fumbling the piece of paper open, my fingers felt like they belonged to someone else. The world seemed to disappear around me as I unfolded it and saw the familiar handwriting inside, written in ballpoint pen. Only three words, but they were enough to break my heart.

  TO OSKARI. DAD.

  In that moment I wasn’t in my body anymore. I was outside it, floating, looking down at myself. Just a small boy who couldn’t even draw the traditional bow. Even my own father didn’t think I would be able to bring anything from the forest.

  The secret hunting ground wasn’t a secret hunting ground at all. It was Dad’s way of telling me he thought I was going to fail, that I was going to embarrass him. The red cross on his map marked nothing more than a place for me to cheat.

  Everything about this Trial had gone wrong.

  All my strength left me and I sagged against the freezer chest, tears stinging my eyes. My shoulders dropped and I hung my head with the shame of knowing that I was a failure. I felt awful. Much worse than I had ever felt in my whole life. I had tried to tell myself that Dad believed in me, that he knew I would bring something good from the forest. But now all that was gone. Nobody believed in me. The only reason why Dad had been so sure about sending me out to do the Trial was because he had cheated for me.

  “Oskari?”

  I wiped my face and looked over at the president. He was standing just at the edge of Dad’s fake hunting ground, snow swirling about him.

  “Oskari? Are you okay?”

  “Go away.” I turned my back on him and wandered toward the trees and rocks on the opposite side of the hunting ground. I rubbed my eyes and sat on a smooth, cold rock, staring down at the wilderness, hating the tears that ran down my cheeks.

  The president came after me, his footsteps noisy, his breathing heavy from the exertion of climbing the slope. He sat beside me and leaned back. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  Without saying anything, I passed him the note. The president looked at it and handed it back.

  “Did you see the head?” I asked.

  “I saw.”

  “It’s from my dad. He killed that buck so my failure wouldn’t humiliate him.” I crumpled the note and threw it down onto the snow. “Not even my dad believes in me. I’m not a hunter. I’m a nobody.”

  “He was probably just trying to help.”

  “He thinks I’m a failure.”

  “I’m sure that’s not true.”

  “What, then? Why else would he do this?”

  “Because he loves you and wants to help you. You’re his son, Oskari.”

  I continued to stare at the wilderness below. “He said I was smart. Is this what he means? Does he think this is smart?”

  “Look at me.”

  I sighed and turned to look at him, seeing him properly for the first time in daylight. He had a kind face and there was something in his eyes that made me feel even sadder. I didn’t want him to feel sorry for me.

  “You’re not a nobody,” he said. “You rescued me.”

  “Anyone else could have done it.”

  “But you did it, Oskari. You found me and you helped me. You got me away from those people and you covered our tracks. Who could have done that but a hunter? You kept me safe.”

  I shrugged and wiped my nose.

  “I believe in you,” he said. “Here.” He reached up and removed the pin badge from his lapel, then leaned over and attached it to the collar of my jacket. “Happy birthday. Today you become a man.”

  I looked down at the badge, shaped like an American flag, and sniffed. “I don’t feel like one.”

  “Well, you —”

  A loud bang made us both turn around to see a long streak of white smoke shooting into the sky from somewhere not far behind us. When it reached its peak, the flare exploded like a firework, spreading a glow of red light in all directions as it began to drift back toward the earth.

  “Is that what I think it is?” The president didn’t take his eyes off it.

  “Yes.” My stomach cramped and my scalp tingled. “They’ve found us.”

  I knew that danger was close, but I had to know how close, so I jumped from the rock and ran over to the top of the incline, throwing myself down on my stomach when I reached it. I crawled closer, peering over the top to see Hazar’s men
by our shelter. Some were standing guard, while others were picking through my belongings.

  The suited man we had seen last night waited in the center of the plateau, and I could see him clearly now: He was about the same age as Dad, but taller and with close-cropped hair. He was good-looking and strong, with broad shoulders and a wide back. He held out something that looked like a cell phone, and scanned the plateau before typing something into it and looking around again.

  “The fire is still warm,” one of Hazar’s men called out. “And their gear is still here, but there are no footprints.”

  “The snow’s getting heavier. They were here not long ago,” the suited man said. “The information is good.”

  “Morris,” the president said as he crawled alongside me. “He was on the plane with me. He’s the one who put me in the escape pod. He must have sabotaged the other parachutes and jumped out after me.”

  “Your bodyguard?” I whispered in disbelief.

  “A damn traitor,” the president replied through gritted teeth. “I didn’t want to believe it.”

  “But how did he find us?” I watched Morris, wondering who I was most afraid of: him or Hazar.

  “Someone is helping him. Someone is sending him information on that handset. It’s the only explanation.”

  “But how would anyone else know where we are?” I had done everything I could to cover our tracks.

  “There’ll be satellites trained on this forest, Oskari, all of them looking for me.”

  “Like in a video game?”

  “Yeah, maybe, and someone who is watching the satellite could be telling Morris what they’re seeing. Damn it. I can’t believe it … that man took a bullet for me.”

  From the distance, the faint thucka-thucka-thucka of a helicopter grew, and a small black dot appeared in the white sky over the trees far below.

  “We have to go, President.” I started shuffling backward. “Come on.”

  When we were out of sight, we stood and ran across the snow and rocks, past the freezer toward the trees. As we came close to them, though, the president stopped.

  “What are you doing?” I hissed, trying to keep my voice low. “We need to hurry!”

  The president shook his head and reached into his pocket, removing the pistol he had taken from Otis. “We need to go our separate ways.”

  “What?” I grabbed his arm, trying to make him follow me. “Come on. They’ll be here any moment.”

  “It doesn’t make a damn bit of difference, don’t you see? Look at the tracks we’re leaving — you know better than I do how bad that is. And if I’m right about the satellites up there looking at us, they’ll see every move we make. We could wave to the people watching.”

  I looked up at the sky, snowflakes falling on my face. “For real?”

  “Yes, for real. And if Morris is getting information about where we are, then it doesn’t matter what we do. In daylight, they’ll see us wherever we go.”

  “But they can’t see through trees, right?”

  “I guess.”

  “So let’s go into the trees. There’s less snow in there, too; we won’t leave tracks. Farther down the mountain there won’t be any. We’ll stay in the forest and —”

  “No.” The president pulled his arm away. “You go, Oskari. Use all your knowledge of these mountains and forests to get as far away from here as you can, as fast as you can.”

  Still the helicopter approached, the black speck growing as it came closer, the sound of its pounding engine becoming louder.

  “Go, Oskari, you’ve done enough. I can’t put you in any more danger.”

  “But what about you?” I was starting to panic. Any moment now and the men would come up the rise to find us standing here.

  “I can look after myself.”

  “No, President, I don’t think you can.” Feeling the urgency building to a bursting point, I grabbed for his arm again. “But what if —”

  He pulled away. “If whoever is helping Morris can see me, then so can my people. They will be here soon; it’s only a matter of time.” He put his hand on my shoulder and looked me right in the eye. “Oskari, I need you to believe in me — like I believe in you.”

  I wondered if there was anything I could do to make him change his mind. The truth was that I liked him and I didn’t want him to put himself in danger.

  Before I could say anything, though, the president spat in his hand and offered it to me, saying, “Thank you for being my friend, Oskari.”

  I considered his gesture as a thousand thoughts rushed through my head. Maybe he was right. Maybe I should save myself and leave him to face Hazar alone. After all, this wasn’t my fight. And, anyway, the president’s Navy SEALs would be here any moment.

  Almost without realizing I was doing it, I spat in my own hand and we shook.

  “It’s time for you to go,” the president said.

  Still I hesitated.

  “Now, Oskari! Go!”

  The way he spoke startled me, and I looked up at him as he pushed me away.

  “Go!”

  So I turned and ran, sprinting across the hunting ground as if the devil was grabbing at my heels. I scurried up the boulders at the far edge and jumped down into the forest, disappearing into the trees and leaving my new friend behind me.

  Everything was a blur. Thoughts boiled in my mind. The deer head. The note. Hazar. Morris. They all swirled about as I ran and ran and ran. My arms and legs moved without me even thinking about it. My whole body burned with the adrenaline that was raging around my blood, fueling my muscles to move harder and faster.

  I ducked branches and skirted around trees and boulders without a clear idea of where I was going or what I was going to do. My boots pounded the forest floor like a drumbeat that would never stop.

  Except, they did stop.

  When an image of the president appeared in my head like a photograph, blocking out everything else, it was as if I had run into a wall of solid rock.

  I came to a sudden halt and stood there, chest heaving for breath, with that picture still in my head.

  It was an image of the president, my new friend, wrapped in a blanket, cold and tired and afraid, and I knew I was the only person who could help him. He had said that there would be people on their way to save him, but they would be too late. The president needed me to do something for him now. He needed help now.

  I touched the pin badge on the collar of my jacket and remembered what my new friend had said to me: I believe in you. Well, what use was that if all I could do was run away and abandon him? There was no other hope for him — I had to do something. I should never have left him.

  Realizing what I was about to do, I turned and looked back, feeling afraid and excited and angry all at once. I was terrified of the men with guns, especially Morris and Hazar, but they were in my place and they had no right to be here. This was my wilderness. My mountain. And today I was the king here. Satellites and helicopters and guns wouldn’t be of any use to them if we could disappear into the forest.

  “I’m coming,” I said as I started to jog back. “I’m coming to help you, President.”

  Everything was different now that I wasn’t running away in fear. I had decided to be the hunter rather than the hunted, and my senses understood that. My mind became calmer and I was aware of everything around me. I heard every rustle of partridge in the undergrowth, every call of every bird. I felt the breeze on my face and the ground beneath my feet.

  When I reached the boulders skirting the hunting ground, the snow had stopped and the sky was beginning to clear. I pressed myself against the cold gray rock and listened.

  In the distance, the thumping of the helicopter approached.

  Thucka-thucka-thucka.

  I eased around the rock, slipping between two large, smooth boulders and boosting myself up on a smaller one so I could look over without being seen. My view of the hunting ground was excellent — the surrounding rocks and trees, and the freezer chest right in
the middle.

  The president was nowhere to be seen, and for one terrifying moment, I thought they had found him already, but as I scanned the area, Hazar’s men appeared over the lip of the slope that led down to our camp. Four of them, moving in a line through the snow, automatic weapons held high. They spread out as they came onto the hunting ground, sweeping their submachine guns in arcs, moving slowly.

  The president appeared from behind a boulder several feet to my right. He stepped out with his arms raised, the pistol straight out in front of him. Hazar’s men noticed him almost immediately and swung their weapons around to point at him, but the president wasn’t going to be taken without a fight.

  He was the first to pull the trigger.

  There was no loud bang, though. No crackle of gunfire or falling bodies.

  Instead, there was a faint click and a moment of nothing.

  The men stared at the president, and he stared back for a fraction of a second. Then he was turning the pistol in his hand, looking at it as if it had betrayed him, and —

  Morris appeared from the rocks behind the president.

  The bodyguard moved quickly, crossing the distance to the president in a split second. He slipped his left arm around my friend’s neck, while his other hand went straight for the pistol, grasping it hard and twisting it out of the president’s grip. Before he had a chance to react, the president was disarmed and Morris was pressing the barrel of the weapon into the soft skin under his chin.

  “Next time you want to shoot someone,” Morris said, “take off the safety catch.”

  He took the gun away from the president’s chin, and in one quick movement released the clip so that it slid out onto the ground, then threw the weapon to one side and pushed the president into the hunting ground.

  My friend stumbled forward, falling to his hands and knees, but he was quick to get back to his feet and turn around to face his bodyguard.

  “Why?” he asked. “Why are you doing this?”