Pork Day

They found a place in the orchard where high grasses were reaching up between trees. There was hardly a breeze. The oranges they smashed on the ground glistened in the soft light, and leaked the sweet smell of ferment, of rich decay. Kai folded his hands together in prayer, and M noticed him and sauntered away, pushing a red shell in to the empty shotgun chamber.

Mort had handed him the gun earlier and told him to be careful. "I like that gun," he said, "Don't do anything like John Wayne." But it was obvious to M he didn't like the gun enough. It was an antique machine, a large piece of metal, stamped with Smith and Wesson, and fringed with rust. The barrel was wallpapered inside with cobwebs.

In the bushes, he held it across his lap, safety lever in place. Kai squatted about fifteen feet away, knife open in his palm. It was sharpened that morning, and ready to plunge into a thick throat. They waited shirtless in the still air not speaking.

But fate has a funny way of yielding its prize only when its not asked for. They thought about the hordes of boars and sows shuffling underfoot when they were high in the trees, crushing fallen fruit in their jaws. Now they waited before the rank juice shrine, but only heard the grass rustling.

It's amazing how loud the forest speaks to one willing to listen. Their ears twitched at the sound of a thousand swishing gowns, the high elephant grass dancing in the wind. But for an hour no hoofbeats came.

Then they saw the children. Tiny pairs of black feet were clearly touching the ground. They approached the fruit lure in a soft chorus of grunts. M's fingers tightened around the stock, and he tilted his head back and forth, looking for a black mass in the bushes. The sow was close behind. Kai stiffened his back and pointed with index finger to a stand of grass in motion. The children munched at the red fruit eagerly. But the sow stayed back with pricked ears. M had the gun pointed at its forehead, but it was not moving closer.

The box of shells seemed like it had been resting on a closet shelf. The cardboard was weak and M was skeptical when handling the faded red plastic. Double O buckshot would not kill a board farther than fifteen feet, and the sow seemed to understand this.

The animals took the bait and scampered away. Kai's back slackened and M laid the gun down. They crouched in waiting for fifteen more minutes in the heavy humid air. The light slowly faded, and rain began teasing the backs of the boys' necks.

M stood up suddenly and walked away, the gun dangling at his side. "I'm losing patience," he said, "I'm just going to stalk one." Kai stared at him in silence and shrugged.

Sometimes good things only come to the inexpectant. Fifty feet away, in another row of trees, he saw the ridged black back moving. It was a large male, grunting carelessly and sniffing the ground for oranges. M tiptoed towards him, but surely he felt as foolish as a child sneaking towards Santa on Christmas. The boar shuffled slowly, but was in no hurry to leave him.

He stood completely still with the gunstock connected to his shoulder. He imagined the boar only saw him as a small tree with on branch. It seemed to agree, and shuffled slowly towards a fallen orange between them. He moved his long black forehead into a line with the shell in waiting.

A peal of thunder licked the orchard. The boar fell instantly. His legs were kicking the air and he flattened the grass beneath him. M slid the chamber open, stepped forwards and pushed anew shell in at once. He pointed it at the squirming boar's head and let a second wave of shot wash him in the eye.

Kai approached him from behind, the knife open in his palm. "Should I do this?" he asked. "No," M said, "He'll be dead in a second." The pig kicked on more time, and was still. Its head lay in a puddle of blood. The boys looked at it in silence.

They never thought of the carry until they were facing the animal. They each grabbed a fistful of hooves and walked uphill, the gun dangling in M's right hand. In less than a minute they set it down, sweat on their foreheads. "Must be eighty pounds," Kai said. "Yeah," said M, and they started justifying the kill, praising fate. It took another half hour to drag the carcass to the top of the field. They dropped it at the dirt road, and Kai ran to call the boys, asking them to bring the truck. The boar was wearing a coat of dry grass on top of his blood.