Thursday, January 5, 2017

Drive - A Menoir 5th Installment

the hit, saying “This is where it went in and a perfect spot, if I do say so myself. Let’s flip the antelope over.”
       “Wow!” I declared. “The exit hole is the size of a baseball, and I think that’s part of the antelope’s heart hanging out of this huge bloody bullet hole. You blew the antelope’s heart out!”
       “Heh heh,” Russ chuckled. “This is what the Remington ADL 270 caliber rifle does best. It kills everything in front of it, and cripples everything behind it! You got the knife? Cut its throat, we have to bleed it out.”
       “You cut its throat, you slacker. You shot it! Besides, the antelope doesn't have any blood left after you blasted its heart clear out of its body.” Russ had a manner of making me do most of the dirty work, and I felt this time I needed to rebel. He did cut the throat, deep, right to the neck bone, but no blood drained from the cut throat. I was right and told him so. We cut open the chest cavity through the ­softer sternum and pulled the ribs apart.
       “Ewww, here’s the blood! Looks like a bomb went off in here. We won't have to pull out the organs; we can just dump the antelope out.” I gagged. The air inside of something that was alive a short time ago has a smell akin to… ­well nothing I can compare it to. Russ cut on down the belly and used a rock to pound the knife through the pelvis. We dressed the antelope out, towed it over to the ditch, laid it butt down on the bank and propped it open with a stick between the ribs to cool. We found the place in the fence where the herd had crossed and zigzagged in ever widening tacks, until I found some fresh blood, then more in a red damp depression in the sand, and then some blood smeared on nearby sagebrush. “Here, I got the blood trail,” I called out, and Russ cut a diagonal across the sagebrush desert to intercept me moving along the trail.
We were in the high mountain desert behind our place, and our farm was the furthest farm away from any civilization, on the edge of nowhere. The sage was short and sparse with mostly cheat grass covering the sandy soil. The cheat grass was dry and brittle, dying all the time, but always there trying to cover the earth. The most annoying thing about the grass is their seeds which have a horrible way of sticking in your socks, worming their way deeper in the fabric and into your skin.
       “It looks like he’s dragging a hind leg,” Russ pointed out to me. Russ considered himself a real sleuth of a tracker.
        “Yeah, three steps – drag, three steps – drag – a new dance step,” I joked. He glared at me. It wasn't far until I was sure I spotted the antelope. “There, see the ears?”
500 More Words Tomorrow

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