The Hunting Trip

October 14th

         “Captain Riley Thomas, at your service mate. Best damn hunter this side of the Nile.” Riley said, charisma flowing from his every pore.

         “Yes, yes. We know your reputation captain. But we did not come all the way here to hear of what you have done. We’re here to see what you can do. Can you kill the lion that has been tormenting our livestock?” Samuel Long asked, looking to protect the farm he moved all the way from Britain to invest in.

         “Well of course I can mate… for the right price of course. I charge ten thousand, plus travel and any unordinary expenses I may encounter.”

         “That will be fine captain, but I need this done no later than the end of this month. And today is the 14th, so I do suggest you hurry.”

October 20th

         Captain Riley’s private bi-plain slowly descended upon the small town of Gobabis, just north of Namibia’s capital: Windhoek. As his small plain circled around the city, looking for a flat place to land, Riley found himself looking back on some of his more memorable hunts. There was of course his first.

May 14th, 30 years ago

         Today was the day. Riley was finally old enough to go on his very first hunting trip. Riley didn’t know much about hunting, but he knew he’d get to see animals. And Riley loved animals. He brought home a new “pet” seemingly every week. So when his 5th birthday finally arrived, he knew his dad would finally let him come along on one his hunting trips.

         There he was, traveling the plains of Australia with his father, Mr. Riley Thomas, looking for the biggest kangaroo they could find. Of course at five, all the kangaroos looked like giants and little Riley couldn’t get enough, seeing kangaroo after kangaroo bouncing everywhere. He loved each and every one of them. He even began to give them all names, though he could never tell his father that.

         Finally, after what seemed like days, though in truth it was mere hours, Mr. Riley found one he decided was adequate for young Riley’s first kill. Young Riley lay down on the ground – just the way he’d practiced for hours in the backyard with his father – and took the rifle in his hands. Looking down the sights, he saw her: Hoppy. Riley’s favorite of the troop. Riley had watched her all day, wonder and amazement coursing through his young brain. But now was not the time for smiling or watching, and he knew it. Young Riley lined up the shot, flipped the safety off, took a deep breath, began to pull back on the trigger, and then he dropped the gun. He couldn’t do it. He loved Hoppy. She hadn’t done anything to anyone. It wasn’t fair to kill her. She didn’t even know she was being hunted. He started to stand up when he felt it: a sharp pain to the ribs. His father had slammed his size 12 boot into young Riley’s rib-cage. Curled into a ball on the ground, Riley could hear his father’s voice booming through the night air, but he couldn’t understand the words. After what felt like forever, Riley felt his father pick him up off the ground, hand him the gun, and saw him point to Hoppy. Then his father whispered in his ear, and he understood him perfectly this time “Shoot that god-damn kangaroo, or I swear to god I will leave you out here, you little shit.” The words were hammers to Riley’s heart. Tears poured down his young face.

         Riley placed the gun on his shoulder once more, looking down the site. There he saw her once more, bouncing along in the distance, stopping every few minutes to eat some grass, as innocent and unsuspecting as could be. Tears now had reached the gun and were dripping onto the ground. Riley’s vision was blurry, and he couldn’t keep the gun straight between sobs. Time began to crawl for young Riley, watching Hoppy, praying for her to leave, listening to his father tap his foot behind him in impatience, the cold steel in his hands. Finally, Riley pulled the last breath into his lungs, looked down range, and squeezed the trigger. Crack. The gun hit his shoulder harder than his dad did. The smell of smoke filled the air. Riley dropped the gun and hung his head. It was over. He had done it. He had watched her fall to the ground. He was a monster. He hated himself.

         Just as Riley turned to walk back to the jeep, his father swept him into his arms, a smile as large as the moon across his face. “Now that’s my boy!” he screamed, running towards the downed kangaroo. Riley couldn’t believe it. Why would this make someone happy? Riley had never felt this low, yet here was his father, his hero, beaming with pride for this monstrous act.

         Finally, they reached the scene of the crime. And there she lay, face down in the dirt, blood pooling around her, motionless. Riley couldn’t believe it. He had done this. It was his fault. He had killed her. But yet his father continued on with his praise, speaking of mounting the beast and of future hunts they would take together. Riley was beside himself. Was this what it took to please his father?  Was this the life he must lead to make his father smile for the first time since mom passed away? Riley of course knew these answers, but more importantly he knew that he would do all that if it meant feeling loved in his house once again. In that moment, Riley felt ice begin to flow through his veins, and through the tears and snot looked at his dad and said, “Not bad for my first one, huh pops?”

         “No son, not bad at all. I couldn’t be prouder.”

October 20th

         Captain Riley snapped back to the present to see that he had already landed. The smell of the African air bringing life back into his eyes, he looked around for someone who looked like they knew what the hell was going on. Finally he saw Samuel off in the distance, running towards him. As they approached one another, Riley took one more look down at his trigger finger and saw his father’s name in black ink, reminding himself who all this was for. He shook Samuel’s hand, smiled and said “Looks like we’ve got some hunting to do.”