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Copyright 2012 Von L Cid

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Roger and the Roadkill

 

Roger felt sorry for the beast. His finger on the trigger, he was about to make the animal fall. The buck ate the bait his father had placed at the base of the cedar tree. he thought. Roger and his father lay hidden inside a wooden deer blind. The beast would not know what hit him.

His mind said pull, but his finger would not move.

Roger turned his eyes to see his father. He stared out through a pair of binoculars, licking his lower lip, anticipating a shot.

“I can't do it.” Roger said loudly. The buck sprinted away.


 

~ * ~
 

“All you had to do was pull the damn trigger.” His father's eyes were fixed on the road. The sun had just set, they were halfway home from their first father-and-son hunting trip.

This was not the first time his father showed anger, nor disappointment. But this was anger and disappointment mixed with outright contempt.

“Now, I'm going to have to buy the damn venison from the butcher, probably shot by his son.”

Roger sat in silence, he had not said a word on the drive home. His father's shaming did not leave room for much else. With every bit of berating, he felt smaller and smaller.

“You won't have any of that venison either. You know what we're going to do? Your mom and I will have the venison, you can eat a squirrel.”

Roger gave him a confused look.

“Oh hell yes, we'll trap it and you'll have to gut it yourself. The experience will be good for you. You're too soft.”

“I don't want to kill a squirrel—”

“Sometimes, we have to do what we don't want to do. You need to harden up that weak little heart of yours.” His father flashed him an evil smirk. When he turned his eyes back to the road, his eyes widened.

“Oh shit!” he said, slamming on the brakes.

 

Roger saw a deer in the road, staring straight at him, frozen. The wheels locked and the vehicle slid. They slammed into the creature. The deer flipped onto the hood, cracked the windshield, rolled over the canopy and settled into the bed of his father's old Ford Ranger.

The impact was forceful enough to jerk them both forward. Both Roger and his father were momentarily stunned. The pickup truck had veered to the side of the road. His father pulled the hand brake.

“Are you okay?” his father asked.

“Yes. Are you?”

“Stay here.”

His father unbuckled and exited the vehicle. He peered into the bed, then circled around to the front.

Goddamn it!  Roger heard his muffled yell through the glass.

His father walked back around to the bed of the truck. He took a closer look at the cause of the accident. He picked up a stick from the ground and began poking it. He came back into the cabin, laughing.

“Well, looks like we may have our own venison after all. It's a nice sized doe too.” He buckled his safety belt, lowered the hand brake and put it into gear. They were speeding down the road, on their way home again.

His father's mood swung from contemptuous to jovial. It still did not stop his assault. “You see that, son, even my truck can kill a deer. Forget the squirrel, looks like you'll be gutting this one.” He pointed his thumb to the bed of the truck, smiling.

A noise came from the bed. Roger turned in time to see a hoof crash through the rear window. It struck his father just behind the right ear. The deer leaped out of the bed. His father went unconscious.

Roger took hold of the wheel with his right hand. He slowly pulled the hand break up with his left, and brought the truck to a complete stop to the side of the road. He grabbed his father's phone and dialed 9-1-1. When asked about it later, he could not remember exactly how he stopped the truck. He just did what came naturally.

 

~ * ~
 

“Doctor says you suffered a fracture and a concussion. Mom's on her way.”

“Did the doe get away?”

Roger sighed, an awkward silence followed. “I don't want to go hunting anymore, dad.”

His dad looked at him. “Fine, looks like you're more of a life saver than a taker anyway.” His father felt the bandages on his head. “Thanks for saving my life…and I'm sorry.”

“Thanks for taking me with you this weekend. Next time, let's go without the guns.”

 

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