Wheezy War Cry

It’s the night before deer season opens, and Brad sits at the kitchen table to eat 
and clean his gun. While clearing the barrels to prevent misfire, he eats a dinner of two Big Macs and large fries. More than just tasty, the fats will stick to his ribs tomorrow in the frigid mountains.

At 3:00 AM they start the trip they used to travel every year to the Desolation Wilderness.

Doughnuts and coffee flow as the oversized jeep climbs the mountainside. More than a reunion of old friends, this trip is a test to see if Brad can still bag an 8-point buck.   

They arrive at camp as darkness leeches the last moments of night.

They go their separate ways.

Brad labors through the dense forest to his favorite spot from years ago. The altitude makes him short of breath, and the twigs snapping under his boots break the quiet. He doubts there is a deer within a mile now.   

Brad sits against a pine tree to rest and drink water. A nearby brush rustles.

He spots a buck yards away. The creature looks up from his chew and doesn’t dart. At peace, he stares Brad in the face.

Sunlight peeking over the ridge backlights the gorgeous beast. Brad smiles and pulls the trigger. The deer falls, and his last breath joins the mountain air.  

Brad let’s out a wheezy war cry, and tries to position the buck to carry it up the steep ravine. When he reaches the top, he’ll radio his buddies to get help. As he tries to drag the carcass, he realizes it will take at least two men.

A quick thinker, and never a fan of venison, Brad only wants the head and antlers, so he pulls out his knife. The sun shines on his blade and makes him squint. Beheading quickly becomes impossible, and again he notices his labored breathing.

Brad's chest is filled with muddy gears trying to gnash. He wonders if someone has turned his own knife on his heart, but nothing except the dead deer is within a mile of him. He tries to lift himself off the warm buck, but the cold air on his skin mixes with the heat of slow blood, and confuses him. He collapses. 

A whir he can’t hear enters his ears, and a strong breeze tosses his hair.

 He is a limp carcass strapped to a stretcher being carried to a helicopter.