This autumn, a couple of work friends are going deer hunting. It’s been the talk of the office for two months straight. It became the conversational watering hole, and everyone who don’t take part are left to dry out in the sun. Hell, even Vicky, the receptionist, is coming along. I think she’s going mostly for the smores.
But I’m not going.
I have a difficult history with hunting, and not a lot of people know about it. I don’t like to talk openly about it, since it happened so long ago, and I hate being the guy who keeps talking about his past. Trauma or not, I’ve had it buried in the back of my mind for years. But now that all this talk is circling around the office, it made me want to put to paper what actually happened.
It was two months ahead of my 15th birthday. My dad was taking me hunting in a state park over in Logan county, West Virginia. I had little to no idea what was going on, I just knew I had to come along and try out new boots, a hat, a vest, the whole shebang. He took me to target practice a couple of sessions, but we ended up spending most of our time discussing gun safety. I was very anti-gun back then, and I suppose I still am; but for different reasons.
Still, I wanted to spend time with him. Dad had been sick on and off work for a long time following an accident, and he’d just started to properly recover. This would be our first outing in almost two years, and the whole family was excited for it. Again; for different reasons.
It was an early September morning when we set out. Mom waved goodbye from the kitchen window. Dad had packed enough stuff to cover us for a whole week, but we were only going away for the weekend. We pulled into a drive-through, got some lunch, and met up with his hunting buddies.
There was Cisco – a man in his late 50’s. Mostly worked in accounting and had no concept of how to speak at an appropriate volume.
Then there was Abe. He was in his mid-40’s, and he had some relation to Cisco, but I never really understood the nature of it. I think Cisco was married to his older sister.
Finally, there was Hugo. He was new at dad’s job and just kinda wanted to belong somewhere. Guy was quiet as a mouse and had this intense raccoon-like face.
It was a long trip. I was on co-pilot duty, meaning I were to respond to any texts and provide snacks to the driver. And, of course, in charge of keeping the music going. It was exactly what I wanted out of that trip. The hunting itself wasn’t that important, it was nice to just see him happy again. This was his element; something he’d done with his dad, and that he was now doing with me.
We were the last to arrive. Cisco and Abe had packed enough for a small company of soldiers, while Hugo barely had anything at all. Dad parked, shut the music off, and from that point on it was all business. I wasn’t that amped about it.
We double-checked our equipment and set out due west. Cisco and Abe took point, with the rest of us following in a line.
I zoned out for most of it, to be honest. I drowned myself in music and texting. Dad was busy talking to his hunting buddies, and Hugo wasn’t much company anyway. We went deeper and deeper into the park. I didn’t even realize until three hours in that I didn’t have the slightest idea of where we were. We’d followed so many off-paths that I could’ve ended up anywhere.
It was somewhere around lunch when we decided to make camp. My feet were already sore from the new boots. Cisco gathered rocks for the campfire, while dad and Abe started to plot out where to go next.
It was decided that we were splitting up in teams of two. I was going with my dad, Abe went with Hugo, and Cisco went on his own. He was by far the most experienced of us, and we all knew that there’d be nothing caught if he went with someone in a duo. The man just couldn’t control his voice. I jumped every time he laughed.
While we didn’t do any actual hunting that afternoon, we spent some time just getting to know the area. I had no idea what to look for, but dad kept pointing at things and telling me how close we were, and how these were “telltale signs”. I couldn’t really follow, but I tried to be supportive. I hadn’t seen him enthused about something in a long time.
We ended up looking across a clearing somewhere around dinner time. Dad had this can of Vienna sausages that we shared. On the far side of the field was a thin stream running along the tall grass.
“That’s where we’ll spot ‘em in the morning,” he said. “Guaranteed.”
We spent the rest of the day trekking along the edges of the field, trying to find a good spot. We ended up making a dig on the eastern side so we wouldn’t get the morning sun in our eyes. We made a wind shelter from pine branches and moss, leaving space for both of us, shoulder-to-shoulder. Heading back to camp, we went through our checklist of gun safety protocols again. And again. And again.
As we did, there was a loud bang, somewhere off in the distance.
We both stopped. We knew the others had brought their guns along, but had they already found something? Improbable.
Dad put a hand on my chest, signaling me to stop.
“Could be others,” he said. “Gotta stay on your toes.”
We all met up at base camp. Dad went around asking the others which one was the mysterious shooter, but no one fessed up. It could’ve been anyone, really. Abe and Hugo had split up to check different areas, and Cisco was off on his own. I figured it was Hugo that fired a shot accidentally and didn’t want to make a scene. He kind of had the look of it.
At night, they all shared some hunting stories. Mostly Cisco. He went on and on about hunting alligators from a river boat. How we wouldn’t “believe the size” of those things, and how they were big enough to swallow a man’s torso in a single bite. When that stopped impressing us, he went on to talk about sport fishing Atlantic yellowfin tuna.
“Fourteen hundred pounds!” he chuckled. “Fourteen hundred goddamn pounds. You could feel the weight of the thing just standing next to it.”
I turned in early that night. Dad got me my own tent, so I spent most of my time watching stuff on my cellphone. We had chargers and stuff, solar, but I hadn’t bothered to unpack it. Once the batteries ran out, I just lay there on my back, waiting for sleep to come.
It was a shitty and surface-level sleep, at best. I’d accidentally set the tent up on some kind of root, leaving me with a bruise on my right shoulder. There was also the constant buzzing of some kind of wasp right next to my head. The thing didn’t get through the tent, but by God, it really tried.
We got up just before sunrise. It felt like I’d just barely shut my eyes, but dad was at the top of his game. He was bouncing between the tents, humming, and double-checking not only his own equipment; but everyone else’s. That whole morning was basically just my dad trying to get us excited. Hell, even Cisco was tired enough to shut up for a few minutes.
We had breakfast, went over our plans, and got into our gear. It was game time, and the sun wasn’t even up yet.
I was half-asleep all the way out there. I almost tripped twice, but dad pressed on. He ping-ponged between us hurrying up and staying quiet. It was weird seeing him doing all the talking; it was usually the other way around back home.
We got to our makeshift shelter and made ourselves comfortable. Dad kept talking about the direction of the wind and various techniques he swore he’d employed. I was trying to pay attention, but I kept nodding off. He didn’t seem to mind. I think he was just happy to be there.
I don’t know how long we waited. After a while, as things turned quiet, I couldn’t really tell the time anymore. It all sort of blended together.
At some point, dad elbowed me.
And there they were.
Six of them in total; three does, two yearlings, and a buck. All strolling into the middle of the field without a care in the world.
Dad nodded at me and eyed the rifle.
“You’re up.”
It was a heavy lever-action brush gun. We had about 55-60 yards distance, and an unobstructed view. I was nervous though; nervous as all hell. We’d practiced plenty, but this was different. I could imagine them scattering to the wind, and our one shot at this blowing up in our face. Dad didn’t seem to care though, but I wanted to make him proud.
I brought the gun out and rested my head, letting the whole iron sight fill my view. I felt the weight of the trigger as I tempted it.
“Inhale. Exhale. You got this,” he whispered.
Then, a gunshot.
And it wasn’t mine.
The deer thundered off into the woods. Dad just lay there, slack jawed. There was no way to tell where it’d come from, but it was close. Maybe someone had taken a shot at the same deer as us. We looked across the field for someone to stand up or show themselves, but there was nothing out there. Dad put a hand on my shoulder.
“That’s not on you,” he whispered. “I don’t know what the hell that was.”
We tried to reach the others through our walkie-talkies. Cisco reported in first. Apparently, he’d heard the same thing as us, but from a far different angle. Hugo reported in too, telling us the shot had been close by from his angle. Finally, we waited for Abe.
But nothing came through.
We waited, listening to the static. Cisco interjected with the occasional “Abe, check-in”, but we got nothing in response.
“Hugo, where the fuck are you?” growled Cisco. “You were supposed to partner up!”
“I-I’m, uh… south. We took the cliffside trail, the one with-“
“Then where the fuck is he?!”
“He went ahead, he thought he heard-“
“Just answer the fucking question!”
Dad shot me a concerned, almost apologetic look. Cisco was always loud, but this was another level.
Hugo met up with us over at the southern trail. We followed it for a good 45 minutes, calling out to Abe as we went. The quiet stutter of the walkie-talkie felt like getting poked by an icicle. It started to dawn on me that this might turn from a hunting trip to a rescue mission.
“We should, uh… get the rangers,” said Hugo. “It’s been a while. He could be-“
“He probably ran out of batteries,” said dad. “But yeah, let’s…. keep that in mind.”
“Batteries last for days,” scoffed Cisco. “Ain’t no way the fucker’d forget that.”
He had a point. They’d been over their equipment two-three times just that morning. Unlikely at best.
We all moved up the trail, stepping over fallen trees and pressing trough dry undergrowth. As the forest breathed, we could see further and further up ahead. It was quiet. Too quiet, even. Like something had scared off the birds.
“Where’d he go?” Cisco whispered. “What direction?”
“He, uh… should’ve kept going south, I guess.”
“You guess, huh?” sighed Cisco. “Fucking useless.”
We spread out for an impromptu search. Not a lot, but enough for us all to cover some ground. We still had eye contact with each other. Dad asked me to stay close, but I wanted to help, so I took the space in the middle.
Everyone called out to Abe, not caring about the deer or other wildlife we spooked along the way. But apart from a few strange red birds perching on a nearby pine, there was nothing around to spook. And the birds didn’t seem to care about either of us.
After a while, it didn’t even sound like a name anymore. It just became this call, this noise. Abe, Abe, Abe.
Then I saw something.
I thought was a log at first.
But it wasn’t.
As I got closer, I was met with Abe’s eyes looking up at me. They didn’t blink. It looked like he’d just tripped and was about to get up, but he wasn’t moving. He had his neck at a weird angle, like he was trying to brush something off his ear with his shoulder.
Then I noticed the bullet wound – straight through the heart.
I’d never seen one before. Not on anything living. Not like this.
To this day, I can’t stop thinking about that first second when I realized what I was looking at. The absolute chilling panic running up through my lungs, causing my words to freeze in my throat. I just stopped and stared at him, watching the unmoving eyes, and how they seemed to find at me every angle.
I didn’t realize I’d stopped yelling his name.
Now I was just… screaming.
The others rushed over. Dad put his hand over my eyes, turning me away. I could still see Abe’s face behind my eyes. Hugo started making this wailing noise, and Cisco just turned deathly quiet. I couldn’t make out their voices individually anymore; it was all deafened by those dead eyes looking back from the dark.
Cisco immediately turned to Hugo, taking his rifle away. Hugo let go of it like it was on fire. Cisco tore out the magazine, only to find it unused. When it finally dawned on Hugo what he was doing, I could hear his voice sink into his belly.
“You… you think I-“
“You got spare rounds?” asked Cisco.
“I wouldn’t-“
“Show me!”
Hugo held out a small box of ammunition, dropping half of them in the moss. This just pissed Cisco off even more; he was in no state of mind to do any counting.
Dad tried to call 911 but couldn’t get through. We were too remote, and his phone was about a decade old. He wanted to try mine, but I’d forgotten to charge it from the night before. Finally, Hugo gave up his phone and stepped back, holding up his hands like he was being arrested.
Cisco was losing his mind, stomping back and forth, growing louder and louder with every step. Dad re-dialed 911 and got a signal through but could barely contain himself. As soon as that operator picked up, it was like all his words just dropped off the face of the earth.
Then - another gunshot.
Dad pulled me down into the grass. Hugo dove behind a tree, and Cisco went prone behind a stump. As the sound echoed through the trees, we all held our breaths. Dad grabbed my face, and I kept reassuring him that I was okay. At the same time, I was reassuring myself.
Nothing came of it. We were all fine. Dad looked around for the phone, listening for the voice of the operator asking us to stay on the line. We scanned the treeline, but saw no movement. Dad reached for the phone.
Another gunshot. Closer, this time.
Dad pulled his hand back and held me tight. I could hear his heartbeat through his chest, pounding like a hammer.
“We spread out!” called Cisco. “We… we spread out and call for help!”
“What the fuck are you talking about?!” yelled Hugo back. “I’m not moving!”
“Like hell you aren’t! On my count!”
Dad propped himself up on one knee and urged me to do the same. He’d be facing the way the bullets came, shielding me, just in case. There was no time for me to object. Cisco counted down from five. It was so hyper-focused that I forgot to breathe, making my heart race before we even started.
As the countdown ended, we all spread to the wind. Dad and I burst into a sprint towards base camp, while Hugo went north. Cisco headed south, further up the hills. We kept our heads low, praying to God we wouldn’t trip on anything. I have never, ever, ran that fast in my entire life. Just thinking about it elevates my blood pressure.
We just kept going, and going, and going. Down a trail, past a landmark stone, and beyond. I only had a vague idea of where we even were at that point, but I didn’t stop to think.
Somewhere in the distance, I kept hearing gunshots. Not a lot, but every so often. And with each one, my heart skipped a beat, making my body retract like a winding spring.
As we stopped to catch our breaths, dad got out the walkie-talkie.
“You see him?!” he wheezed. “Does anyone see him?!”
“No!” cried Hugo back. “I-I… I can’t see anything!”
“Cisco, you see him?”
Silence.
“Cisco,” dad repeated.
Again, silence.
“Cisco?”
We made our way back to camp. We figured we could use my solar charger to get my phone up and running and try to call for help again. It was still early in the day, but it was ridiculously easy to get lost even with clear weather. I had a general heading, but that was about it.
We took it real slow. Crouching between trees in-between outright sprints. We kept our heads low, listened, and watched for birds taking flight. All the while, I couldn’t help but to feel like something was up. If there was someone else moving out there, we would’ve heard them by then. Sound travelled far, especially in the open areas.
When we finally made it back to base camp, I dove into my tent. I fumbled out the solar charger, plugged it in, and set it up outside. Dad moved it so it wouldn’t be so easy to hit with a stray bullet.
We hunkered down behind one of the tents. We didn’t move a muscle. My body cramped from staying so still, but I didn’t want to move despite the pain. My eyes watered from not blinking, and I could feel my tongue going dry with every ragged breath.
“It’s all about the waiting,” dad whispered. “Just like hunting.”
It must’ve been close to lunchtime when my phone lit up with a mild yellow light. It had about 30% battery charge, but it looked like the weather was about to change. There’d been a few clouds on the horizon, and dad had warned us about rain. Hell, half our camp was made to be waterproof just in case. A bad enough cloud cover would mean we’d be wasting time waiting for nothing.
While dad phoned 911, I stuck to the walkie. I tried a few “hellos”, but I got nothing in response. The thought hit me that they might be in hiding. If so, my voice might give them away. Abe’s face flashed before my eyes as I put the walkie down, waiting for someone to reach back from the other side.
Dad tried his best to explain our position.
“Yeah, we… we got an active shooter,” he said. “I don’t know! I don’t know, maybe… maybe one, maybe two, just west of-“
Dad put the rifle down and held the phone to his ear – trying his best to work out on a map exactly where we’d been at. I couldn’t help but to stare at the rifle. There might be one of those things hunting us right now, and we’d have no idea of knowing. Could have a clear shot. Could be anywhere.
He probably stayed on for ten maybe twenty minutes, before the battery ran dry. It was the first time I heard him swear uncontrollably. He was so frustrated that he could barely contain it, kicking a fold-up chair into the burned-out fire.
“They told us to get moving, meet them half-way,” he spat. “Don’t bring anything. We’ll get it back later.”
He grabbed the rifle, and we promptly left.
We got turned around a couple times when the rain came. Things started to look the same, and we had no proper source of light. We kept trying to head in a straight line, but it became painfully apparent that we’d messed up somewhere around the half-hour mark. We’d veered off track and might just be heading further into the park.
We tried to backtrack but couldn’t find any of the landmarks. There was supposed to be a tall rock along the path, but there wasn’t. We must’ve taken a wrong branching path. I hadn’t really paid attention when we first got there, so I had to rely entirely on dad to find his way forward.
And dad was not doing okay.
It was pouring down, far worse than anticipated. At one point, it felt like it was raining sideways. I had to curl my hands up into my armpits to keep warm, and I kept getting slapped by branches as we pushed forward. Every now and then, we’d stop, only to turn back and try again.
We’d been out for nearly two hours when my head snapped back to attention.
In the distance, another gunshot. I could barely make it out in the rain, but there was a clang to it that just cut straight to my ear canal. There was something primal to it, like my hearing was tuned to catch it.
Then, another.
Closer.
I dropped to the ground while dad took cover behind a tree. Before he got a chance to ask, I yelled back that I was okay. I had to repeat myself three times before I saw him visibly relax, his shoulders slumping against the tree.
“Stay down!” he yelled back. “I think I saw something!”
I tried to see what he was looking at, but he yelled at me to stay still the moment I moved. He refused to have any part of me exposed to gunfire, no matter what. And yet, I think I saw something. Movement, further down the treeline.
He crouched down and rested the gun on a branch for support. I could hear him trying to control his breathing, taking longer and longer breaths. He squinted through the iron sights, counting to himself as he did. I kept my head down, waiting for the next shot to ring out.
I don’t know how long we stood there. Ten seconds, ten minutes – it could’ve been either. But all we heard was rain and crackling branches, and all we saw was pine.
I kept looking at my dad. He was the only thing I could see in that angle. He kept staring straight ahead, waiting with bated breath.
Then, I saw something.
Something fast.
“Duck!” I shouted. “Dad, there’s-“
I haven’t seen anything like it ever since.
It was tall and had this strange green tint to it. Bipedal, but not like a person. At least 6’7. Wide-set legs, with long arms that scraped across the forest floor. A single finger on its right hand was longer than my entire forearm. Its head had a shape like a thorn bush, with little blinking appendages all along what should be the scalp.
It twitched forward, and as it did, the long finger snapped straight through the tree where dad was taking cover; causing another sound of gunfire to rattle through us. This one right next to us, deafening me.
I saw something explode out of the other side of the tree as the force burst straight through the trunk; blasting dad’s face with something akin to shrapnel. He threw himself backwards, covering his bleeding face, and dropping the rifle.
It circled around him in a sort of crab walk, raising its long finger like a scorpion’s tail.
I grabbed the rifle, swung it around, and did as I’d been instructed.
Down the iron sight.
Exhale.
This time, I didn’t hesitate, and as a real gunshot rung out, the creature reeled back. Every little white slit along its head opening and closing, blinking in unison. It was gone in an instant, scrambling on all fours to get away. I think I hit it in the shoulder, revealing something bright green, like a snapped twig.
Dad propped himself up against the tree as I swung the rifle around; releasing the spent cartridge with two clicks. I was breathing steady, calm, but it felt like my entire body was sweating all at once. I could feel this intense heat under my clothes, despite the cooling rain.
“Hold it steady,” he said. “Finger on the trigger.”
He’d gotten something in his eye. He couldn’t see shit.
It was up to me.
Then, far off into the woods, another gunshot.
Then another.
And another.
All around us, gunshots piercing the rain.
But they weren’t just gunshots. What should be these high-pitched explosions started to twist and ache. Some turning long and low, similar to a stalling engine. Others reverbed like wail, or a heartbreaking cry. One of them kept spitting out gunshots that sounded like small arms-fire, a semi-automatic pistol. And far off, in the distance, was something with a high caliber. Something deafening.
“Look beyond the scope. Down the line. Watch between the trees.”
And I did. Despite the rain, the ache, and the panic, I held that rifle like it was my goddamn life.
For hours, there was nothing but rain and gunfire. I’d catch glimpses of something moving in the distance. Sometimes straight ahead, sometimes from the flank. Sometimes I’d fire, hitting a branch or the side of a tree. Sometimes I’d hit something, causing a loud gun-like squeal to echo back at me.
And one by one, our bullets started to run out, as cartridge after cartridge started to pile up in the underbrush.
Then, at some point, it stopped.
I remember the rain clearing. The final cartridge lay hot in the grass. Dad put his hand on my arm.
“That’s enough,” he said. “It’s alright.”
As I put the rifle down, I felt a barrier collapsing. There was nothing between me and what was out there anymore. We were sitting ducks, waiting for come what may. I burst into tears as this intense vulnerable feeling washed over me. Like it was already over. Like I was just waiting for that final gunshot.
Just one. That’d be all.
But it never came.
Instead, we saw the forest rangers. Maybe they hadn’t been that far away to begin with.
In the aftermath, we found that both Cisco and Hugo had made it out. Cisco had dropped his walkie as he ran but had taken shelter in a fishing cabin. Hugo had kept moving in a wide half-circle, making his way back to his camouflaged shelter. But Abe?
Yeah, he didn’t make it.
They called it a hunting accident, but could never pinpoint it on a single individual. Dad was beyond himself, questioning each and every decision down to the line. He questioned the fact that none of the rangers had heard the gunfire to begin with. There was no way they hadn’t.
I’ve since heard all kinds of stories coming from the same area. Seemingly random gunfire scaring off the deer seems to be a common theme.
A lot has happened since those days. I still keep a gun for protection, and my dad lost most of his vision on his one eye. He’s still around, but we don’t really talk about it anymore. We’ve never gone back there. We’ve never heard of anyone else seeing them either.
Honestly? I don’t think I really wanna know.
And nowadays.
We stick to fishing.
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