24. Yips

[gunwithoutmusic]

Thursday, August 13th—5:54 p.m.

1,146 words. Approximate reading time: 5 minutes, 43 seconds.

Nolan pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped the sweat from his brow with his right hand while he tightened his grip on the handle of his wagon with his left. The sun was hanging low in the sky, and he knew that he had gotten off to a later than usual start heading back from the woods.

He trudged along silently. Every so often, he would turn his head back to look at the carcass of the deer he was struggling to pull along with him, and he would smile. It would be a wonder if he made it home before dark, but at least he’d be returning with enough deer to feed his own family and a neighbor or two for a little bit, and that would be worth missing bringing anything to tonight’s dinner. It would also help make up for the loan of baking supplies that Eartha had given Marilyn last week when they were out of flour and a caravan wasn’t due for another week.

Nolan’s boots crunched on the broken asphalt underneath him, and the wheels of his wagon scraped and squealed slightly. This was Nolan’s favorite route, because it took him through the old town center. The sounds of his boots and the wheels of his wagon on the asphalt were therapeutic to him, and a good signal that he was not far from home. He looked around, surveying the ghost town that was once the county seat. It looked very much like it did not ten years ago. Most of the windows were gone from the buildings, and there was some graffiti around, of course, but for the most part it seemed like people avoided this area.

Nolan remembered what it was like when he was a kid, and his parents would bring him into the city center. His dad would go look through the antique shops while his mom would take him to the consignment shop and the thrift store to find clothes for the upcoming school year. The streets were bustling with people and cars, and there was a beautiful cacophony that only came from the mixing of hundreds of conversations between friends, travelers, and songbirds. Now the only sound was the crunching of Nolan’s boots and the scraping and squealing of his wagon’s wheels.

It was still beautiful, in a different way, Nolan would think every time he took this route home. He would usually stop in front of the thrift shop and look through the area where the front window had been, and imagine himself and his mother in there, rifling through racks of used clothing searching desperately for something that wouldn’t make him look poor in front of the other kids at school. And so, though he was already quite behind, he stopped again when coming to the thrift store.

He stood there, so lost in thought of the simpler problems of yesterday, that he didn’t notice the other man approaching until he was only a few yards away. When he did notice, however, he sprung immediately into action, dropping the handle of his wagon and pulling his bow from his shoulder. He removed an arrow from his holster and nocked it, pulling back on the string and aiming it at the man.

“Stay back!” Nolan shouted, anxious to protect his game from anyone that may decide they needed it more than him. “I don’t want to have to hurt you!”

“Woah, woah, woah!” the man responded, throwing his hands up immediately. “I don’t mean any harm, I promise. I’m not even armed.”

“What do you want?” Nolan asked, not releasing the tension on his bowstring. “I don’t have anything I can spare.”

“Well,” the man said a bit sadly, “I guess that is sort of what I was looking for. I, uh... I used to live around here, and, well, my wife, she died and so me and my kid—”

“You got a kid?” Nolan asked, holding his aim at the man’s chest.

“Yeah, a little boy,” the man responded, and pointed at a cross street near where they currently were. “We took shelter over there in a storefront around the corner, but we got nowhere to go. I heard your wagon and I, look I honestly didn’t know what you had in it, I just knew it was another person, and you don’t see many people around these parts anymore.”

“Uh-huh,” Nolan said, keeping his grip tight. “Okay, I don’t wanna be a jerk or anything, but this here deer is for my family and for the rest of the families in my little town, and we don’t really have room for another couple of mouths to feed. I’m sorry, but you know how it is.”

“Yeah, I get it,” the man said. “But we could work. I mean, he’s sick right now, but when he’s better. And I can work in the meantime. We can help out and we won’t take up much space. But it’s good you got that wagon. Come over to where my son is and he can ride up in there with that deer. He’s not really too good to travel, you see.”

Nolan’s eyes narrowed a bit. “Actually, that’s not really on my way,” he lied, not wanting to get himself caught up in some sort of ruse. Best case scenario, the man was telling the truth, and someone else would eventually come along.

“Come on, man,” the man said, “I can’t believe you’re being like this. People around here used to be so kind to everyone and willing to help out. It’s why I came back here in the first place.”

“I’m sorry,” Nolan said, “But those days are long gone. You can’t really trust anyone these—”

An involuntary muscle spasm, probably from an old war injury. It hadn’t happened to Nolan in quite some time, though it had been hell working through it when it was really bad, especially when he was hunting. These days, it really only ever seemed to happen when he was under a lot of pressure or stress. This particular evening, Nolan’s wrist decided to act up at the worst possible time, resulting in a man lying dead in the middle of the road with an arrow through his heart.

Worst case scenario, the man was lying and there was a group of bandits waiting to ambush him and take his deer and maybe his life. Best case scenario, the man was telling the truth and there was a sick child in a store around the corner.

Nolan pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his brow again, before putting his bow back over his shoulder. He knelt down and gripped the handle of his wagon, then turned and headed back in the opposite direction, having suddenly made the decision to take the back way home, even though it meant he would be well after dark before getting back.

Surely someone else would come along.