Old Man Hill

The boy grabbed his younger brother's arm just above the elbow. "Get down," he whispered.

"I want to see him."

"You'll scare him away." The boy pulled Jon Jon down to his level. "He might come closer."

"You think so? That would be cool. Maybe we should have a look."

"Not yet." The boy stretched his neck, straining to see through prairie grass thicker than a wheat field. Another few inches and he could peek over the top. But then Jon Jon would think it was okay to jump up. He slid back into the draw and stared at Jon Jon. Even if the deer did move closer, what would they do then? The had no bow. They had no rifle. They didn't even have a slingshot. Were deer even in season?

"Okay, we'll look together." The boy put his hand on Jon Jon's shoulder. "Real slow."

The boy's grip tightened around his brother's shoulder. Their toes slipped on the sandpaper slope. They pushed over the edge and stopped. Shouldn't the deer be running?

Jon Jon pointed. "There."

"Where?"

"Right there. He's staring right at us."

"I don't see anything."

"Right in front of us. It's a good buck."

The deer flinched to a freeze before bounding to the top of the next ridge. It stopped there, glanced over it's shoulder, then, as if swallowed by the sunset, disappeared.

Jon Jon started to run. "C'mon, Steve. Let's go."

"We ain't never going to catch him before dark. We best be getting home now. You know what happened last time we missed curfew."

Jon Jon's smiled faded as he rubbed his backside.

The boys ran, neither of them sure who started first, neither of them questioning the older boy's two-step lead. They leaped over small washouts, climbed a six-foot rock outcropping, and pushed through a field of short grass prairie. The sun's descent now cast a pinkish glow over the treeless hills and the deep blue before darkness crept toward the horizon. Their father would be home soon.

The boy stopped at the barbed wire fence Jon Jon ran past him a few steps before turning back. "Why you stopping? We're going to be late."

"We have to cross through Old Man Hill's place."

"No. We have to go around. We can make it if we hurry."

"It's the only way. It'll cut our time in half."

"We'll get shot."

"He ain't going to shoot us. He ain't even going to know we were there."

"I don't know, Steve. You know he ran over Josh Weemer's dog after it chased one of his cows."

"You don't know it was Mr. Hill."

"Who else is mean enough to do that?"

"Come on. We need to get home. Nobody's going to know."

When the boy slipped between two lines of barbed wire, Jon Jon hesitated, but his older brother traipsing away from him trumped trepidation. Every shadow was one of Old Man Hill's aggressive bulls--or worse. A distant coyote howl spread across the darkening sky like a forgotten cry of the dead.

Their strides lengthened. Old Man Hill's roof peeked over the next rise. Almost there. Almost home.

The sound of a truck engine burst form the twilight behind them. The boy glanced back. Headlights bouncing over the plains--gaining. The boy twisted Jon Jon's sleeve and pulled him into a narrow draw. They ducked into the grass, a prickly pear cactus attacking the boy's knee. He winced and scratched at unseen needles that would haunt him for days.

The truck stopped. The engine cut. Jon Jon's breath sputtered. They listened. A small click. Footsteps--maybe. A shuffling. A full minute of only Jon Jon's breathing. Then, like a hungry demon rising from the pit of hell, a high-pitched screaming like nothing either of them had ever heard. Jon Jon covered his ears and rolled to face his older brother, his eyes bright orbs of fear.

The scream died to a mournful, almost pleading wail as if all hope had abandoned the world. The boy and Jon Jon stared at each other, horror mirrored in eyes of innocence. Even after it ended, the memory of that whining voice hung in the silence like a recurring nightmare.

A blast shocked them flat. It felt as if their ears might bleed and the boy swore he saw a burst of fire from above them.

"He's shooting at us. Run."

They sprinted to the fence where the boy tore his shirt crossing through. They raced across Old Man Hill's yard, ignoring the deep bay of the black lab from inside. They ran home, their father only glancing up as they scurried to their room. They sat and avoided eye contact, their breath and trembles tapering. After a few minutes, the boy forced a chuckle.

Just as Jon Jon began to smile, they heard a truck pulling down the driveway.