#12 The Last Hunt

The Last Hunt

I am so tired! It's 5:30am, and I can barely keep my eyes open. As my dad turns onto the road that takes us out to the field I see it, the old creepy house that everyone at my school tells me about where an old man named Frank Wells lives. I guess he is the meanest old man to ever live. I look over at my dad, and I ask him if anyone lives in that house. I figured he  would say no and that it was just an old abandoned house. Then he said the words I will never forget, “Old Mr. Frank lives there.” I got really quiet and didn't speak the rest of the way to the field. But on the inside, I really wanted to ask my dad 100 questions about Mr. Frank.

We arrived at the muddy field, walked to the back of the truck and put on our overalls and boots. I looked at my dad standing quietly and asked, “What’s wrong with Mr. Frank?” He hesitated, but then he said, “That man has been accused of more murders than he could count.” My stomach instantly dropped, but I knew I had to get going to get into the field and set up before the sun rose from the horizon. So I loaded my gun and put my calls around my neck. I grabbed my ground blind in one arm and grabbed a dozen duck decoys in the other, and we made the long  2 1/2 mile walk out to our secret hunting spot. When we finally reached our spot, we set up on top of the ridge where below us was a creek where the ducks always came in and landed. We have probably killed over 1,000 birds here in the last year or so. The only bad thing is that our secret spot is only about a 1/2 mile from old Mr. Frank’s pond, and if the water wasn't frozen over there the ducks would pile up there instead of in our creek. We sat until the sun rose and from behind us we heard the ducks, I slowly reached for my gun and sat quietly. The ducks fell right into our trap as our mojo roto ducks lured them right in. They landed right in the creek below us, and we popped up and bam killed 4. My dad then looked at me and told me to hop down there and grab them. I heard my dad at the top say, “Stay down we got more coming in.” So I turned around in the cold water and hid myself in the weeds. Another flock of ducks landed just a few feet away from where I was at. Close enough that if I actually could just have reached out and grabbed them. My dad shot twice and killed two. He has been hunting since he was a kid so he is a really good shot which was good for me since he was shooting just over my head. I grabbed the two ducks and threw them up to my dad. Then I climbed back to the top of the ridge. I got tucked back into the blind and sat and waited for the next bunch to come in.

We waited for about another hour before another flock of ducks came in, but this time they flew right over and and landed in Mr. Frank’s pond. My dad looked at me and without saying anything he got up and started walking towards Mr. Frank’s pond. I stood up and yelled, “Are you crazy? He will kill you if he even sees you near his property.”

My dad said, “I am sick and tired of this old man taking all the birds!”

“I don’t care, we don’t need those birds, we already have 6,” I yelled as I ran after my dad. If my dad was going, I was definitely going with. I couldn’t leave him there on Mr. Frank’s property all alone. We walked up to the pond and my whole body froze! Mr. Frank was standing on the other side of the pond. I looked over at my dad and he said, “Don’t move he hasn’t seen us yet.”

I slowly turned my head to look back at the old man, and he was staring straight at me. My dad went, “Oh crap!” and then he screamed, “RUN!”  

I turned and ran as fast as I could through the thick grass. I was almost all the way back to the blind when I realized my dad wasn’t with me. I turned and looked in the direction of the pond, and I could see my dad running back towards me. Well if you want to call it running you can, but it is more of a slow hobble. When he finally made it back to the blind, I realized Mr. Frank had shot him in the side and he was bleeding out fast. Throwing my dad over my shoulder, leaving the guns and blind behind, I began to make the long run back to the truck praying with every step that my dad was going to be ok. It took me almost an hour to get back to the truck. Once we finally got  back to the truck, I breathed a small breath of relief in knowing we were clear. I quickly got my dad in the passenger side, and I jumped in the driver’s seat not caring that I wasn’t old enough to drive. I just knew I had to get help for my dad fast or he wasn’t going to make it. The thought of losing my dad stabbed me in the heart as I stepped on the gas and flew through the field to the main road. As I got to the end of the field where it meets the main road, I could see a figure standing at the edge of the field. I was so relieved so see someone who could help me with my dad and who hopefully had a cell phone to call 911. As I got closer to the figure my heart began to pound knowing everything was going to be ok. And then, I saw who it was, Mr. Frank standing in the middle of the driveway that led to the main road with a gun pointed right at me. I brought the truck to a hard stop. I looked over at my dad, and he was reaching for the handgun he had hidden in his overalls. He handed me my gun and yelled out the open window at Mr. Franks telling him we didn't want any harm. We just wanted to go get help. Mr. Frank--who looked like he was in some weird trance--pulled up his gun and aimed it right at my dad. Without even hesitating, I aimed the 9mm right at Mr. Frank and pulled the trigger. Then everything went quiet, and I just thought who is the murderer now? Me?