(Next: https://redd.it/13q647f)
I live in a hunting town so small I swear I’ve been in Discord servers with more people. I can’t afford to move even if I sold the home I grew up in. At least I have a stable internet connection. I earn my living by being a freelance video editor. I sometimes did thumbnails or podcast editing. If you come across one of those life hack videos with recycled clips of the worst crafts ever, it’s possible I edited it or a similar video. Sorry about that, but I gotta eat.
I went to bed late one night crunching to finish a video. I woke up in the afternoon to the sound of glass breaking and a car taking off. I ran downstairs to see the damage. A rock had been tossed through the front window and thankfully only broke a single panel. I charged outside trying to see the car but was too late. It already turned into the long road and was hidden behind the trees that line my driveway. I lived too far from a neighbor to witness the incident. Besides the rock, they also tossed a few dead squirrels on my porch. Great. Just the way I wanted to be woken up.
I grabbed gloves and a trash bag to clean up the mess. I buried the dead animals after cleaning up the glass. I didn’t have anything to cover the window so I washed my hands and got my keys to drive into town. I could have reported this to the sheriff but I had no faith in the local police. Unless a person was caught red-handed, they never arrested anyone. I already knew who the culprit could be. For most of my life, two men have pestered my family.
When I was six, I played in the woods very often with my best friend. One day we saw dark storm clouds rolling in and decided to walk back home. I heard a sound I thought to be thunder. I turned to my friend just in time to see his body fall to the ground, his face gone. To my horror, he’d been shot with a hunting rifle. Something meant to take down a bear hit him leaving the poor kid no chance. I ran down the path trying to get help and saw the back of a person I recognized. Harry Fisher just down the hiking trail. He didn’t turn or come to see what was wrong when I screamed for help. He just kept going and disappeared into the woods. I knew it was him from his stupid bucket hat with a bright orange fishing lure hanging from the brim. I didn’t even know if his last name was Fisher, or if people started to call him that because he was always fishing.
I told the sheriff what happened and Harry denied being in the woods. They said I was in shock from seeing my best friend get shot and got confused. I know I didn’t imagine the man and was distraught trying to figure out why he would lie about such a thing. Being a child, the answer didn’t come right away. Harry refused the fact he was in the woods because either he shot my friend by accident while out hunting, or knew who did.
Since then, I’ve kept my eyes on him and his friend Hank Smith believing if Harry didn’t fire the killing bullet, then Hank did. If they did anything even slightly illegal, I reported them to the sheriff which rightfully pissed them off. Any out-of-season hunting or trespassing cost them a fine. They always knew I was the one leaving the tips that got them in court pleading speeding tickets and other minor cases. After I became a teenager, the harassment started. Broken windows, spray-painted threats, or fireworks set off on our porch that nearly started a fire at one point. It was a bit sad that two full-grown men were pulling that sort of prank on someone so much younger.
It troubled my mother but she didn’t get any support due to her darker skin. The town didn’t outright act hostile towards her for not looking the way the rest of them did, but none of them helped her either. We were on our own. After she died, I almost felt thankful she no longer needed to deal with double-checking the locks or fretting over the cost of repairing windows.
I dropped into the corner store to buy some snacks for later that night. The town recently got a fancy 7-11 that replaced the old corner store. It had the same people employed and a better selection of items so no one made a fuss about the newer store. I saw Harry’s truck parked outside. I stopped by it, listening to the engine pop. I should either wait for him to leave or go to the grocery store. Bumping into him meant a fight. The store had cameras inside and a smile came to my face when I thought he might be arrested for a night if I could get him to punch me while being recorded. I would gladly take a hit to piss him off.
There weren’t many people inside. The clerk straightened up, seeing me walk inside knowing both Harry and Hank were in the back getting drinks. He knew about our past and waited for something to happen. I didn’t even say anything to them. I stood by the chip display debating on which kind I wanted. When I picked up a bag, it was yanked from my hand.
“I’m feeling some cool ranch chips, you don’t mind me buying these do you?” Hank said, showing off his tobacco stain teeth.
He hated cool ranch. I knew it and grabbed those chips on purpose. I spotted some grey fur on his jacket that matched the dead animals I buried a short while beforehand.
“Go right ahead. They would go well with all the squirrels you’ve been hunting. Did you keep some for stew, or give away all of them?” I asked, my voice clearly implying what I meant.
“You know what boy; I think it’s about time you move out of this town. No one wants you.” Harry added in, the lure on his stupid hat moving when he spoke.
“If I don’t, are you going to do something about it?” I said sounding braver than I felt.
His hand shot up and I flinched expecting it to come down on my face. Another hand came out to stop him. It took me a few seconds to realize who just walked over to put himself between me and the two men. I hadn’t seen him in years and thought he wouldn’t come back this way.
“Are these rednecks still bothering you Kiddo?” My rescuer asked and refused to let go of Harry’s arm.
His name was Graves. He wore the same grey suit jacket and pants I saw him in last when I was a teenager. He and my mother were friends and she told me to go out of my way to help him due to a debt she had with him, but never elaborated on. He knew about my trouble with these two and would have stepped in to help when I was younger if I ever asked, which I didn’t. Harry pulled at his arm, clearly struggling while Graves looked as if he put no effort into holding the other man still.
“A little bit. But I think they were just on their way out.” I said not wanting this to go further.
Graves let go of Harry and Hank shoved the chips against my chest causing the bag to explode open. They both ran off with their tails between their legs and with some vague threats of what would happen if they saw us again. I ignored them and started to clean up the chips the best I could. The clerk came out with a broom and dustpan to finish the cleanup job. I grabbed a few more snacks and paid for the ruined bag.
“You should do something about those two.” My old friend said, hands in his pocket and hunched over the prewrapped sandwiches.
“Not much I can do besides move. I can’t afford that right now, if ever, if house prices keep going up.” I said to him.
He didn’t change at all in ten years. His hair was still grey and the same crow’s feet at the corner of his eyes when he smiled. His voice rough and I suspected constantly smoking was the cause. He straightened up and asked for a pack of cigarettes instead of something to eat. He pulled out some change to count for the smokes so I pushed him aside and paid for it. I also made him pick out some sandwiches with something to drink. Something about him did change since the last time we met. He looked tired. More worn out than normal. Which was impressive considering he always looked like he hadn’t slept for two days.
The moment we walked outside he lit a smoke and tore into a sandwich. That worried me. I knew he traveled a lot for work but wasn’t aware of what his job was. I didn’t know much about Graves besides my mother trusted him.
“Thanks for helping. Where are you staying? The Lodge?” I questioned.
He looked a bit reluctant to answer. The Lodge was a hunting hotel made to look as much like a large log cabin as possible. It brought in enough tourists and hunters to keep stores in town afloat so most people respected the place.
“I don’t like all those stuffed animal heads watching me. No, I’m at the motel off the highway. Just walked to town over looking for something to do.” He replied, already finished off a sandwich and going for another.
When did he eat last? And walked over? Where was his car?
“The motel has bed bugs. Come on, you can stay at my place. I have the room.” I told him and headed towards my car, which had been freshly scratched down the side.
Great. At least they didn’t knock my mirrors off this time.
“Oh, Mr. Pike, inviting a strange man over to your place? What would your mother say?” Graves teased.
He always called me by my last name, or by some cute nickname. Never by my first name. The name my father passed down. I was fine with that.
“She liked and trusted you.” I said, my chest tightening a little.
His hand froze, an egg salad sandwich partly unwrapped in his hand, and a cigarette burning between two fingers. He looked like he just stepped on a land mine. I wondered how he felt about my mother. I suspect they had a thing after my father died but never proved it. I think at the very least, he liked her.
“Trusted?” He asked slowly, putting it together.
“She died five years ago. Breast cancer. It was quick.” I told him keeping my tone even.
His face fell hating the fact he brought the topic up. He’d been gone for so long that I didn’t blame him for not knowing. And I almost regretted saying it. I could have pretended she was still around for the time he stayed here. For five years after she died, someone kept her alive in their mind.
“Shit, Kiddo sorry I-”
“It’s fine. Now come on. I’ll make you a real meal.”
He silently followed, getting into the passenger seat, rolling down the window to let the smoke out. I didn’t tell him to put out his cigarette or stop him from changing the radio channel. We may have been away from each other for years but it didn’t feel like it. Having him around felt natural as if he never left.
I didn’t have much to cook so I made a slapped-together meatloaf. I gave my guest a new set of clothes so I could take his suit jacket and pants to the dry cleaner’s while our dinner cooked. He protested but they needed to be cleaned. The smell of smoke and an Earthy scent of dirt clung to the fabric. He lost the fight and I gathered his clothing ready to go. After he got changed, he wanted to watch TV but didn’t know how any of the streaming services worked. I put on a random crime series and told him what button to hit to keep watching. I did my quick errand and kept an eye out for Harry’s truck. I knew those two didn’t like Graves but never tried to mess with him.
I got home to find my old friend passed out on the couch. I let him sleep so I could get some work done before the meatloaf finished cooking. I only woke him up to eat and let him go back to the couch to watch half an episode. He was out again until dark. When I heard him wake up and start looking for leftovers, I decided I wanted a break. I found him on the porch smoking. I sat on the wooden step next to him, handing over a beer.
The porch light flickered when a large bug slammed against it. I kept forgetting to get a bug zapper. I wasn’t outside very often so it wasn’t a big deal to be without. Graves gave me a disapproving look watching me open a beer of my own.
“Aren’t you still like, sixteen or something?” His smile made me a bit grumpy.
“I don’t look that young! I’m almost thirty!”
I sounded offended. But he was right about me looking younger. My baby face pissed me off when someone had the nerve to bring it up. It made it hard for anyone to take me seriously.
“What have you been up to? Not too many jobs around here to pick from.” Graves offered and peeled at the beer bottle label.
“I edit videos. I can do it online. It covers my costs and it’s not that hard of a job.” I said only to get a confused face as a response.
He looked at me, then towards town trying to put a few things together. When he spoke again it became clear why he looked so confused.
“Like, movies? You can do that Hollywood stuff out here?” His voice sounded a bit impressed by his honest mistake about what I do for work.
I laughed, unable to help it. I forgot he was older and bad with any kind of technology. I doubted he watched videos on his phone or even had a Facebook account to see lame memes. He waited until I finished laughing and corrected him. I explained the whole Youtube thing and he silently listened. I don’t think I’ve talked to someone this much in a while. With my mother gone and no friends in town I didn’t have a reason to just talk. I wanted to offer to let him stay for as long as he wanted but held back. I was sure he would leave in a day or so.
Graves was a mystery. My mother once called him a passing storm. I’ve never noticed him act destructive but I knew it was in him. A man didn’t travel and went without a home for no reason. I needed to get back to work so I left him on the porch to keep smoking.
That night I worked well into the morning hours trying to get as much done as possible. When I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer, I finally went to bed. I checked in on Graves to find him asleep on the couch. He could have used a bed in the other room but I had a feeling he wanted the couch to watch the front of the house. He’d found some cardboard and put it over the broken window, which was unexpected.
I slept until the afternoon which was normal for me. Graves could find himself some breakfast if he got hungry. I figured he just hung around watching TV or smoking on the porch as I slept. A sound of a loud truck coming down the driveway woke me. I rolled out of bed, tired and a mess from the late night. I quickly fixed my sweater and started down the stairs to see what was going on. Graves was already outside on the porch with the front door open. I heard the truck park and he ducked inside long enough to tell me to go back upstairs. I froze, fear starting to rise through my stomach. I didn’t go back to my room but I didn’t move further down the stairs either. I listened trying to hear who arrived even though I already knew the answer.
I heard a conversation between Graves and Harry. Graves sounded calm and pretty much told them to piss off but not using that gentle of a tone. Hank’s voice came and I knew they didn’t like him telling them off. I thought I heard the word monster being tossed around from the pair of rednecks. Then one of them let out a scream. I couldn’t see what happened next but there wasn’t any mystery from what I heard.
A loud sound of a gun rang out and a body hit the wooden porch. It felt like I moved in slow motion as I ran down the steps and outside to the scene. My friend was on the porch, resting on his elbow and knees with his other hand pressed against his stomach. Blood spread out from his borrowed shirt and dripped down onto the faded wooden porch. Hank was trying to reload his rifle with Harry yelling at him. I got down to Grave’s trying to see how badly he was injured. The bullet hadn’t come out of his back and I didn’t know if that was a good sign or not.
I looked up and felt all the anger and hatred for these two men break free. Something pulled up from deep within my chest and I growled at them. Literally growled. My face turned into an expression I’d never made before and my body felt red hot. I didn’t think I could make a sound like that. They both looked like they were going to piss themselves. Hank dropped his rifle and Harry nearly left him behind. They thankfully got back into the truck and bolted down the driveway.
All the heat faded and I suddenly felt exhausted as if I just ran ten miles. I shook it off to try and help my friend. Graves fell to the porch, his body weak and blood flowing. God, there was so much blood from such a small wound.
“Those bastards… where the fuck did they get a blessed bullet from…?” His voice was weak, almost a whisper, and the question was mostly to himself.
I didn’t know what he was talking about. I took his hand trying to remove it so I could see the bullet wound.
“I’ll call for help, hang on, ok?” I said, words shaking.
I went to stand up and Grave’s kept a grip on my hand making it impossible to move. His face pale and damp with sweat, he shook his head. He fixed an intense gaze on my face and a white glint of light came from his eyes that froze my blood.
“No. None of that. You need to do it…”
His voice was still weak but his teeth sharp and eyes glowed that odd white light. At that moment I knew he wasn’t human. Calling the police or getting him to the hospital was the worst thing I could do. I accepted that fact fairly quickly considering the situation. His strength left him and he fell back to the porch, out cold and still bleeding. I wasted no time hooking my arms under him and dragging him into the house. He was thin but heavy as hell. The words dead weight came to mind and I dismissed them. I had a bathroom with an ugly green tub on the first floor of the house. I rarely used it because the tiles were cracked and tub stained with years of grim. I didn’t want to use the money on upgrading that bathroom.
I got him into the tub by awkwardly lifting his legs in and then the rest of his body. Graves didn’t wake up from being manhandled. I couldn’t get his sweater off so ran into the kitchen for some scissors. I also grabbed a pair of plies, the tool feeling heavy in my hands. I needed to run upstairs to find some peroxide hoping that would be enough.
I quickly came back to cut open the sweater and turned the shower on. The lukewarm water washed away the blood almost as fast as it came. Graves stirred slightly but didn’t wake up. His face losing color by the second. I know it’s a very bad idea to dig around in a wound to get a bullet out. If this was a normal person, the best idea was to get them to the hospital as soon as possible. But Grave’s wasn’t normal. I poured the peroxide into the wound and covered the pliers with it. My stomach knotted up. My hands shook and I needed to focus or else I would do more damage. My friend’s face started to look awful. It was as if he started to slowly turn into a mummified corpse. Eyes and cheeks sinking in and lips becoming thin. If I didn’t get the bullet shards out, I would have a dead man in my bathtub.
I thought it took hours to get all the pieces out. It only took forty-five minutes. Every time I removed a small piece of silver from my friend’s stomach, his face got better. I knew I got the last piece because he took a deep breath and coughed looking like he just came back to life. Maybe he did. For a few more minutes I let him recover and wake up a little. The wound in his stomach closed up a little, showing just how inhuman he was.
I helped him out of the tub and started to dry his face with a towel. He protested saying he was fine enough to dry himself off and get himself into a new shirt. I found another sweater and a pair of sweatpants that would fit him. He gained enough strength back to kick me out of the bathroom to dress. Graves came back out, uneven on his feet. I put his arm over my shoulder and half carried him to the spare room. His grey eyes were hazy and his body weak.
“You should leave. Just pack up and go.” Graves wheezed out when I tucked him in bed.
“When you’re better, we’ll leave together.” I lied.
“Wake me up in an hour.”
I let him fall asleep. I refused to just run and let Harry and Hank get away with shooting someone I cared about again. I wasn’t a child anymore and I was going to do something about this. I wanted to kill them. I’ve felt like that for a long time. I remembered my best friend and how brightly he smiled. They took that away from the world and had some long overdue payback for it.
I bought a simple hand gun for protection and to take care of any rabid animals I might come across. I had a raccoon with rabies on the property and needed to kill it with a shovel once. I thought a gun would be faster and kinder to the poor thing. I kept it locked up since buying it. I made sure it was loaded and put my plan into motion.