Prologue: The Killing
Come along, boy, shouted the old man to the youngster.
Tommy Sheffield stretched his short legs as far as they could go while he ran. He had dreaded this day, and as each minute passed he knew he had a reason to worry.
Suddenly, he tripped over a dead branch and fell head first into yellow fern. Tommy rose quickly from the withered foliage and continued following his uncle through the woods. The chubby boy panted as he jogged, trying to keep up with the old mans long strides. He attempted to jump over protruding obstacles, but it was hard to see them in advance since there was no path. When Tommy fell again, he simply pushed himself to his feet and moved on.
Hurry up, boy, stated Uncle Jake in a tone that Tommy heard too often. He didnt dare ask his uncle to wait.
Im coming!
Steam formed in the chilly afternoon air with every exhaled breath. The sun peaked behind cotton-like clouds as it descended in the western sky behind the bare branches of the maple trees. Despite the late November coolness, Tommy unzipped his jacket. The sweat trickled from his cropped brown hairline across his pale forehead. His out-of-shape body was not used to this abuse. Tommy hoped he wouldnt pass out from the exertion.
Keep a-look-out, boy.
Yes, sir. Look out for what? Tommy had his eyes on the ground ahead of him, not into the surrounding forest.
Hunters need to have eyes in the back of their head, said Uncle Jake as he pressed forward erratically with his muscular legs. He rambled on in his slurred way.
Tommy only understood bits and pieces of his uncles drunken speech, but he knew it had something to do with how hunting made a man out of you. He sure didnt feel like a man as he jogged and panted, following the brand new camouflage jacket that marched purposely through the dense forest.
See here, boy?
Tommy caught up and inspected the ground where his uncles bony finger was pointing. He was grateful for the pause so he could catch his breathe. His lungs were ready to explode.
This here is a deer sign, stated Uncle Jake knowingly as he swayed unsteadily. From the amount of it, Id say its from a mature buck, a big one. Fresh, too. I told you the end of the day was the best time to hunt.
Tommy watched the steam rise from the feces. He knew the real reason they had begun so late on this first day of deer season. His uncle had guzzled beer through most of last night and had slept most of the day.
Uncle Jake straightened his six-foot frame, his thinning copper hair wild in the light breeze. He peered through his wire-framed glasses, surveying the forest as he scratched his reddish gray stubble on his chin. Assorted trees, brush and ferns surrounded them. A crow cawed in the distance, but otherwise it was deathly quiet.
That buck could be standing out there right now looking at us, boy, whispered Uncle Jake. Itll blend in with the trees and we wont see it unless it runs away, with its white tail up like a flag.
Tommy was overweight and he often had trouble breathing, but his eyesight was very good. All he saw were dark shadows. Who knew what lurked behind the trees ready to pounce? Tommy felt sure something was watching them, and it wasnt a deer.
Daylight was quickly fading and the western sky was turning red. Tommy wondered how they would find their way back to the cabin, let alone sight and bag a buck. The boy was scared, especially with Uncle Jake drunk as usual. Yet, they marched on, searching for their elusive prey.
Tommy lived with his paternal uncle in a neglected house in Scranton, Pennsylvania. He had been with the drunken old man for six months now, ever since his dad, Kyle Sheffield, was arrested for car theft and held without bail. The courts didnt trust Kyle since he had disappeared after the last bail hearing. The Chief of Police wasnt going to let Kyle out of his sight this time.
Young Tommy never knew his mom. She had overdosed on sleeping pills shortly after his birth. Postpartum depression, the doctors had called it. Tommy had heard his dad tell others that she just didnt want a baby.
Kyle, a career criminal who never held a respectable job in his life, raised the boy in an unpredictable lifestyle. Sometimes they ate steak. Other times Tommy was lucky to get hot dogs. Mostly, the young boy grew up on junk food. A parade of Kyles girlfriends cared for the boy but they never lasted long. When Kyle was unfortunate enough to get caught by the law and land in jail, Uncle Jake took over looking after Tommy.
Tommy didnt know any other way of life. His father hadnt let him socialize with other kids his age except at school, and they didnt seem interested in a fat boy who liked to read. Now, he was too busy with chores while his uncle drank. It was fine by Tommy; hed escape to his comic books once the old man passed out. He was content enough with his new lifestyle.
Then last month, Uncle Jake shocked him on his tenth birthday.
Its time for you to be a man, Tommy, the old man had announced. Its time for you to bag a buck. Time to learn how to handle a weapon. Time for killing.
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