Audition - Skye Warren, Amelia Wilde Page 0,44
the last vestiges of kindness beaten out of me years before I shipped off to boot camp. It almost made me feel sorry for some of the guys who signed on at the same time. They were soft. Came from suburbs named after Robin Hood fairy tales. Flinched away from a punch.
My older brother walked away without looking back. A year later I did the same thing. I haven’t spoken to either of them since then. For once I wish that I’d changed that. I’d like their advice about this. Does it make me a fucking snitch to turn on Caleb? Do I even want a job that’s based on those lack of principles?
Then again, those guns he’s selling will be used against me. Against my older brother Liam. Against Elijah too, if he enlisted the year he turned eighteen.
That’s reason enough to turn on him.
Except his sister is Bethany.
Dear Liam and Elijah, how would you feel about your dear brother turning traitor just so he can properly fuck a sixteen year old girl? Not exactly a sweet family reunion, but one that’s fitting for the North family.
Noah pulls the trigger of his 12-gauge so smooth and quick the click barely registers before the shot rings out. I stand tall, my own gun still hanging from the strap across my back. A line of ducks rises from the water in a panic. Wings pumping. Sounding the alarm to one another. I have the wild hope that it’s not too late for them.
Or maybe it’s me I’m thinking about.
“Got one,” says Noah. It’s a typical Noah comment. Brief.
“Fuck yes,” Connor shouts.
He takes aim at the fleeing ducks and squeezes off three shots that go so wide I have half a mind to scold him about wasting shells.
I keep my damn mouth shut.
Noah sloshes out to get his kill. He slings it into a shopping basket in the bottom of the boat. It’s my turn to casually get my gun in my hands and flick off the safety. I don’t like the way Caleb’s looking at me. Makes the hairs on the back of my neck reach for the sky. Does he know I’ve been taking Bethany out? Is that what this shit is all about? I’m not stupid enough to think that Caleb has any depth of goodness left in him. But he does have a certain lust for blood and vengeance. We all do. Thank you to the army for making it a marketable skill.
The minutes bleed away, the sun wheeling toward the tops of the cypress trees. I’ve successfully pretended to drink the same can of beer for the entire outing. The color leeches from the bayou while the seconds tick by. Frogs sing louder. I count my own heartbeats. Each one is a small triumph. Noah shoots another duck. Caleb lurks around, looking smug as hell. I keep my finger off the trigger…but close by. Somehow it doesn’t seem like a good bet to waste a shot on a harmless duck. Easy enough to play up feeling buzzed. Caleb stops watching me quite as close.
By the time Caleb flicks on the light at the front of the aluminum boat, the air is thick with flies. Connor’s drunk. The light catches his eyes and reflects back an almost crazed excitement. It’s too much for a duck hunting trip during which he’s killed zero ducks.
Something’s not right.
Either that or I’m a paranoid motherfucker.
Frankly I’ve got a right to be. But unlike some of the other jackasses crawling through the swamp, I don’t let it get the better of me. I help Caleb haul the boat into the deeper water. The rumble of the motor sends the swamp into a frenzy around us.
Frogs panic and leap out of our way.
I’m still alive back at the parking lot.
Connor tells us all the story of how Noah shot two ducks and the rest of us fuckers shot none while we haul the hunting gear out of the boat and stow it in the back of the Jeep. Caleb bends down to shove the boat under a nearby shelter.
I feel a thousand times better when the rifles are stowed, too.
Noah and I climb into the back. Caleb takes his spot behind the wheel. My entire body prepares for the Jeep to swing to the right. It’s a shitty, gravel on-ramp and somebody’s going to die there someday, but it’s not going to be me.
Caleb turns left.
My stomach drops into my feet. He’s going the