THE WIND URGED me forward, but I’d lost interest. Walking the property line was taking forever and felt a lot like work. I turned around a couple of times, but the wind kicked up, blowing a furious gust in my face. Bits of grit stung my skin until I turned back to the south, trudging from sign to sign and wishing I’d stayed home.
I counted out five signs and then stopped. The wind increased until I was pushed forward a few steps.
“Don’t worry. I’ll go,” I said. “I just have to piss.”
The wind stopped so suddenly that I staggered back and nearly fell over. I unzipped my jeans, released a yellow stream and watched as it sprayed into the trees. A No Trespassing sign was nailed to a tree on my right. I thrust my hips forward, threw my head back and aimed. I splattered the sign pretty good and laughed out loud, both at my own pissing prowess and at the wind. It started up again the minute I finished.
Smart wind.
I zipped up and watched urine drip off the sign. Beyond it I spotted the cats, sitting impassive under a nearby tree. They were not amused. Too bad Luke and Caleb weren’t there. They would’ve been impressed, considering how short I was compared to the tree. But all I had were a couple of cranky cats as witnesses.
As soon as I turned away from the sign, the wind touched my cheek and tugged at my shirt.
“I know, I know. I’m going,” I said, walking three steps to the south. My foot froze in the air on the fourth step. My heart pounded. Fifteen feet in front of me, a body lay on the forest floor, partially concealed by a blackberry bramble.
The wind still blew. It was faint, but insistent. I had to go forward and see more. I looked back at the cats. Sydney yawned and Slick began cleaning his toes. Neither of them paid any attention to the bloody haunch protruding from behind the bramble. I leaned forward. The bush was thin, so I could see the creature’s entire form, but it was still thick enough to conceal its characteristics. It could’ve been anything or anyone lying there, rotting in the dirt.
The wind pushed me forward. I went to the left, keeping a fifteen-foot distance between me and the body. The wind didn’t protest my moving off its path. I don’t know what I would’ve done if it had. I did know I wasn’t walking right up to that thing until I knew what it was, and even then I wasn’t sure.
I sidestepped around the bramble and the body revealed its nature.
“Holy shit,” I said, my breath rushing out in relief. I bent over and put my hands on my knees. Huge gulps of oxygen rushed into my lungs. My eyes never left the bramble and the body of the large deer lying beside it.
The deer was skinned, headless, and all four of its hooves were missing. The metallic tang of fresh blood tainted the air along with the buzz of a thousand black flies celebrating their lucky day.
I looked it over again. The body was intact. Not a single cut of meat missing. Who would leave good venison to rot?
“It’s not even deer season.”
The wind blew softly in my ear, a confirmation. Maybe I imagined it. No, I decided. The wind had answered me. It was as real as the dead deer.
I sat on my haunches and considered the situation. It didn’t seem right to go, leaving it with the flies. I didn’t know why, but it felt obscene to leave it, disrespectful, wrong. But the deer was huge. I couldn’t drag it for any distance. Plus, I didn’t really want to touch it.
“I have to leave it like that,” I said, and the wind agreed.
I tried to memorize the spot so I could come back and bury it, but the area was indistinguishable from anywhere else on the property. I looked at the signs and realized the deer lay over the property line. Its chest pointed away from Ernest’s land. I crept closer for a look at the bullet wound and the wind breathed its approval.
I found the wound behind the left foreleg, a perfect lung shot. I leaned in closer and, even to my untrained eye, I saw the path of the bullet. It carved a two-inch groove through the muscle covering the ribs before it entered the body. I backed up and found blood spatter along a path fifteen feet behind me. The hunter had stood on Ernest’s land when he shot the deer.
He must’ve crossed the line right after. Or I might’ve found two bodies. A gun on Ernest’s land wasn’t a good thing. I knew that better than I knew most things.
The wind gusted, pushing me to the south again, so I walked away from the deer and its stink, glad to leave it behind. Sydney and Slick zipped away, weaving through the trees, never crossing the property line. Even the cats knew. It was weird to think that, but they were obviously very aware of the family rule.
I counted the trespassing signs from the carcass to the creek. It would be an easy way to find the body again, and easy sounded great.
“One, two, three,” I said to myself.
When I got to fifteen, the wind was gone. I stopped for a moment waiting for its encouragement, but none came. I stepped towards the property line, my foot poised to cross. Nothing. That’s when the fear came. My companion had left me alone in the woods with a dead deer and an illegal hunter.