Page 46
Story: Memories of Us
“That's one sweet weapon,” Brenton said in awe as he took the AR from my hands. “Is that a night vision scope?”
With a nod, I gently pulled it from his grasp and went back to situating the muzzle on the end of the barrel. “And a silencer. Wild hogs have become a problem on the property the past few years, and this gun, plus the gadgets, help Bradley take down several a night instead of one or two. It's the only way to attempt to control their growing population.”
The hard plastic of the tailgate dug into my ass as I situated myself to reach into my cooler.
“I can feel it,” Brenton said beside me.
As I dug through the contents of my hastily packed cooler, I said, “What's that?”
“The peace being out here offers.” He flicked on a flashlight, momentarily blinding me. “If you're hungry, I had Mrs. Hathway pack extra food. I assumed you weren't in the mood to eat earlier after patching up your beat-to-hell brother.”
I eyed the contents of my cooler again. An old package of Pop-Tarts, a half-opened bag of chips, peanut butter crackers, and five packages of Little Debbie Zebra Cakes stared back at me. His light moved to my face, and I shielded it from my eyes with a raised hand. “Yeah, that'd be great. I didn't pack as much as I thought I did.”
As he pulled out the two sandwiches and waters, I kicked my legs back and forth beneath the tailgate and smiled in the dark. His warm hand lingered on my lap when he set the food down.
At the first bite into the homemade club sandwich, a moan escaped around the somehow still crispy bread.
“Did you moan about a sandwich?”
Between ravenous bites, I said, “It's like a fucking orgasm of flavors in my mouth. Damn, I wish I was rich.”
His loud laugh echoed through the sparse trees and caught on the breeze. “An orgasm of flavors.” He chuckled and took another bite of his sandwich.
I flipped the flashlight off and looked up to the cloudy sky. “Huh.”
“What?” he asked around a mouthful of food.
“The clouds seem to be getting closer than I expected. Are you ready for my enlightening thought on your condition now?”
“We're hunting a cat. Shouldn't we, I don't know, stay quiet?”
“Fine,” I grumbled as I polished off the sandwich and tossed the trash into my cooler. Using my palms as leverage, I scooted back into the bed to lean against the cab. AR resting on my lap, I became transfixed on the surrounding darkness, looking up every so often to the few visible stars.
“I wonder if the stars are up there talking about us.”
“Huh?”
“The stars. Some of them are old enough to remember us doing this as kids. I wonder if they're up there jumping up and down that we're back enjoying the peace they offer for free, or if they’re turning their back and pouting because we've been away for so long, taking their eternal beauty for granted.”
Another gust of wind whipped around us, shifting my hair to the side and sending a chill down my bare arms.
“I think,” he said after settling beside me, “they're proud they can still burn bright for people like us. Kids who grew up needing their light and have come back to appreciate them, maybe even thank them.”
As we sat there gazing, more clouds rolled in, covering what few stars were left for us to watch.
“Between your dad and mine, we used those stars, didn't we?” I breathed.
We both paused at a loud snap nearby. Gun pressed against my shoulder, I situated the night vision scope against my eye and swept the area, searching for the source.
“Huh.” I set the gun down across my lap and leaned forward for the flashlight. Shining it toward the herd, I showed Brenton what I'd seen and found odd.
The entire herd was lazily moving as a group toward the direction of the main barn.
That was when I felt it. A low pulse settled in the back of my skull at the quick barometer shift just as the wind shifted with a strong gust.
“Fuck,” I shouted and jumped from the Gator to dismantle the gun accessories. “We need to get out of here. The damn weather guys got it wrong. Again.”
Another gust of mighty wind blew, sending Brenton jumping from the bed to help. With the gun safely packed away and everything covered in the back, I slammed the tailgate shut.
With a nod, I gently pulled it from his grasp and went back to situating the muzzle on the end of the barrel. “And a silencer. Wild hogs have become a problem on the property the past few years, and this gun, plus the gadgets, help Bradley take down several a night instead of one or two. It's the only way to attempt to control their growing population.”
The hard plastic of the tailgate dug into my ass as I situated myself to reach into my cooler.
“I can feel it,” Brenton said beside me.
As I dug through the contents of my hastily packed cooler, I said, “What's that?”
“The peace being out here offers.” He flicked on a flashlight, momentarily blinding me. “If you're hungry, I had Mrs. Hathway pack extra food. I assumed you weren't in the mood to eat earlier after patching up your beat-to-hell brother.”
I eyed the contents of my cooler again. An old package of Pop-Tarts, a half-opened bag of chips, peanut butter crackers, and five packages of Little Debbie Zebra Cakes stared back at me. His light moved to my face, and I shielded it from my eyes with a raised hand. “Yeah, that'd be great. I didn't pack as much as I thought I did.”
As he pulled out the two sandwiches and waters, I kicked my legs back and forth beneath the tailgate and smiled in the dark. His warm hand lingered on my lap when he set the food down.
At the first bite into the homemade club sandwich, a moan escaped around the somehow still crispy bread.
“Did you moan about a sandwich?”
Between ravenous bites, I said, “It's like a fucking orgasm of flavors in my mouth. Damn, I wish I was rich.”
His loud laugh echoed through the sparse trees and caught on the breeze. “An orgasm of flavors.” He chuckled and took another bite of his sandwich.
I flipped the flashlight off and looked up to the cloudy sky. “Huh.”
“What?” he asked around a mouthful of food.
“The clouds seem to be getting closer than I expected. Are you ready for my enlightening thought on your condition now?”
“We're hunting a cat. Shouldn't we, I don't know, stay quiet?”
“Fine,” I grumbled as I polished off the sandwich and tossed the trash into my cooler. Using my palms as leverage, I scooted back into the bed to lean against the cab. AR resting on my lap, I became transfixed on the surrounding darkness, looking up every so often to the few visible stars.
“I wonder if the stars are up there talking about us.”
“Huh?”
“The stars. Some of them are old enough to remember us doing this as kids. I wonder if they're up there jumping up and down that we're back enjoying the peace they offer for free, or if they’re turning their back and pouting because we've been away for so long, taking their eternal beauty for granted.”
Another gust of wind whipped around us, shifting my hair to the side and sending a chill down my bare arms.
“I think,” he said after settling beside me, “they're proud they can still burn bright for people like us. Kids who grew up needing their light and have come back to appreciate them, maybe even thank them.”
As we sat there gazing, more clouds rolled in, covering what few stars were left for us to watch.
“Between your dad and mine, we used those stars, didn't we?” I breathed.
We both paused at a loud snap nearby. Gun pressed against my shoulder, I situated the night vision scope against my eye and swept the area, searching for the source.
“Huh.” I set the gun down across my lap and leaned forward for the flashlight. Shining it toward the herd, I showed Brenton what I'd seen and found odd.
The entire herd was lazily moving as a group toward the direction of the main barn.
That was when I felt it. A low pulse settled in the back of my skull at the quick barometer shift just as the wind shifted with a strong gust.
“Fuck,” I shouted and jumped from the Gator to dismantle the gun accessories. “We need to get out of here. The damn weather guys got it wrong. Again.”
Another gust of mighty wind blew, sending Brenton jumping from the bed to help. With the gun safely packed away and everything covered in the back, I slammed the tailgate shut.
Table of Contents
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