by William Falo
With gear packed and a rifle strapped to my back, I headed to mountain lion country in the snow-covered hills. It wasn’t long before my muscles ached.
Dark clouds formed on the horizon after I huffed and puffed up the first hill.
The approaching storm looked worse than they predicted.
At the summit of the hill, I looked back and gasped. The land looked like it was wounded, a giant open wound. The developers talked about making me move through some kind of ordinance. I was the last resident left and the only guide in the area, so they hired me to hunt a mountain lion they think killed a worker. I needed the money, but the terrible irony was that if I killed the mountain lion, their development would continue and I would have to move out. I would kill my own future. I could never live in a senior facility.
The snow picked up so fast it was like someone shook the earth like a snow globe. I saw something moving on a distant slope. I pulled out my binoculars and saw a mountain lion walking through the snow. The distance was within range of my rifle and I pulled it out. Through the scope, I saw it clearly and centered the crosshairs on its chest. I put my finger on the trigger.
I hesitated. Two smaller shadows moved behind the mountain lion. Cubs. I put the rifle away and took out my phone and typed out a message to the developer.
No Mountain Lions.
The cold penetrated my clothes and I shivered. It was dangerous here and it was too far to go back. The only choice was to head to a cave I knew about. I eventually stumbled into the cave and sat down. Frostbite was a reality. I took out my phone, but there was nobody to call. No rescue could reach me, even if I wanted them too. I missed my wife and dog, since both passed away over a year ago. I was tired of living alone.
Maybe I could just go to sleep and wake up in a better place. Like hibernation.
I closed my eyes. Later, I heard a dog bark and saw my wife in a cabin. A fire crackled and I sat next to her. My dog curled up at my feet. I was home.
A recent snowstorm made the walking tougher for the two surveyors, one set up the scope while the other climbed higher on a neighboring hill.
“Jenna, There’s a cave here.”
“Emma, be careful.”
She walked into the cave. Inside, she saw a man slumped against a wall with a rifle by his side. Ice crystals covered his face and hands. She touched his hand and shivered. It was frozen stiff.
“There’s a dead body in the cave.”
“I’ll call the police.”
“Okay.”
After a few minutes, Jenna called back. “The police said there are no missing persons reports. He must have lived alone.”
Emma saw something in the man’s hand and pulled it free. The picture of a man, woman, and dog in front of a cabin made her eyes tear up. She put the picture back and hoped they were together now.
She walked out of the cave and stared into the distance, it’s been so long since she saw her family because she always took the faraway jobs to make extra money, but at what cost. She wiped the tears off her face before they could freeze then called home.
William Falo writes fiction. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in Newfound, The Ginger Collect, Fictive Dream, Back Patio Press, Vamp Cat Magazine, and other literary journals. Follow him online @williamfalo.