“Which we will use when the time is right,” Zil said. “Not in some open fight with Sam and Dekka and Brianna where they’ll take us out.”
“When the time is right,” one of them echoed.
They had guns, Hunter thought. Sneaking with guns.
“Leader will decide,” another voice said.
“Yeah, but…,” someone began. Then, “Shh! Hey! I think I just saw a coyote. Or maybe it was a deer.”
“Better not be a coyote.”
BLAM! BLAM!
Hunter dove facedown in the dirt.
“What are you shooting at?” Zil demanded.
“I think it was a coyote!”
“Turk, you idiot!” Zil raged. “Blasting away like a moron!”
“The sound carries, Turk,” Hank said.
“Give that gun to Hank,” Zil snapped. “Idiot.”
“Sorry. I thought…it looked like a coyote.”
It wasn’t a coyote. It was Hunter’s deer.
They were moving on now. Still grumping at one another. Still complaining.
Hunter knew he could move faster and more quietly than they did. He could get close enough…
He could stretch out his hands and bring the killing heat to Zil’s brain. Cook it. Cook it inside his skull.
Like he had Harry…
“An accident,” Hunter moaned softly to himself. “Didn’t mean to…”
But he had.
Tears filled his eyes. He wiped at them, but more came.
He’d been defending himself from Zil. So long ago. They’d been roommates, Zil and Harry and Hunter. A stupid argument; Hunter no longer remembered what had started it. He only remembered that Zil had threatened him with a fireplace poker. Hunter had been scared. He’d reacted. But Harry had moved between them, trying to separate them, trying to stop the fight.
And Harry had cried out. Grabbed his head.
Hunter remembered his eyes…the way they had turned milky…the light going out…
Hunter had seen that same dying light in the eyes of many animals since then. He was Hunter the hunter.
Of animals. Not of boys. Not even bad boys like Zil.
Taylor bounced.
Sam’s house. Nighttime. Astrid asleep, Little Pete asleep, Mary out at the day care working the night shift, John asleep.
Sam’s bedroom empty.