Page 98 of Eco-Activist's Mountain Men
I grab the owner's manual for our recently purchased John Deere tractor that had so impressed Eric a few days ago. I want to try to understand some of the ways of using its "CommandPro" programmable joystick to automate and simplify some of the more common tasks we need the tractor to perform. It gets quite "techie," so I draw Eric into the conversation, and soon the two of us are watching YouTube demos on my phone, whilst simultaneously watching the hidden wildlife cameras' outputs on his laptop.
The sun rises higher in the sky as the morning passes, until we reach midday, and eventually we get to one o'clock—lunchtime. The weather is perfect. Still, calm, warm, and sunny. It proves too much for Luna.
"I need to stretch my legs."
"Well, you can't." Jack is adamant, and Eric nods in agreement.
"Oh, come on, guys. I don't mean I'm going to paint a target on myself and walk up and down the track all afternoon shouting: "Shoot me then, Collier, you motherfucker.". I just want to get outside and brush the cobwebs away. Yawn, stretch. Take a few breaths of fresh air instead of being cooped up in here with you lot of stinky males. Just five minutes, and you can all come too, to make sure I'm safe. How about that?"
"Two minutes," Jack growls.
"Four."
"Three."
Luna sighs. "Fuck me. Alright,threeminutes. Happy now?"
"Nope. I'd rather you stayed inside."
"I'll be fine, bring your bang-bang stick so you can shoot the bastard if he turns up. You have my express permission to go ahead and do so.
"Alright, we'll all go… with you in the middle."
Luna sighs again. "I guess that's the best I'm gonna get. Come on then, boys. Let's go get some fresh air for five minutes."
"Two minutes."
"Three minutes," Jack grunts his uneasy assent, and picks up the shotgun that's never left his side the whole morning. I pick up one of the rifles, and I see Luke grab the other. Eric looks nervous. Just as well we don't have any more guns, he's as likely to shoot his own foot as any assassin, bless him.
We head to the door, Jack and Luke leading, Luna in the middle, and Eric and me bringing up the rear.
"Wow, it's lovely out here." Luna stretches her arm up dramatically above her head and does a little twirl. "Let's go sit by the picnic bench for a moment or two." She takes two strides forward towards the picnic bench. As she does so, and before any of us can react, a camouflaged figure rises seemingly from nowhere, just twenty yards or so away, at the edge of the trees.
Jack reacts fastest. He's already turning, bringing up the shotgun to face the threat. Luke thrusts himself forward, as though somehow intending to close the full twenty yards before the man can fire. Eric and Luna are both frozen in place, like rabbits in a car's headlights. As for me, I make a dive for Luna, football tackling her to the ground and hopefully to safety.
But I'm only halfway through my dive when I hear the shot ring out from the stranger's rifle. A distinct and high-pitched "zing" that sends my blood cold throughout my body, my heart thumping in my chest. Missed, but I'm not going to make it. Everything slows down. Seemingly in slow motion, I see the assassin aim again, steadying, then the little squeeze of his finger and "zing", but this time he's had time to correct his aim. This time, he's on target, I know it. I'm still only halfway in my dive. Too late now. Too late to bundle her to the floor. Too late to cover my own big body over her tiny one, to protect her precious life and that of our baby growing inside her. Too late for anything. The bullet is racing from the rifle at the speed of sound—eleven hundred feet per second of deadly force, covering the short distance in under one tenth of a second. No time to even pray. Certainly no time to say goodbye.
And then, in the midst of my despair, a flash of gray from the bushes, equidistant between the shooter and ourselves. A streak of fur, a howl of rage, a blur of a leaping body in motion, in mid-air… and then a jolt as the bullet impacts. A long, dark shape spins, drops, and hits the ground with a sickening thump. Lies there, inert, unmoving.
Bleeding.
Southpaw!
Luke is closing in on the camouflaged shooter. Too late, the shooter realizes he's under attack. He turns and tries to raise his rifle… but he doesn't stand a chance. I'd say it was a fight, but really it wasn't. Luke's massive fist moves once and once only, connecting with the would-be-killer's face and dropping him instantly to the ground, unconscious, his rifle flying off somewhere into the undergrowth.
The danger is over, practically before it began. My unnecessary leap brings poor Luna to the ground with an "Oomph" as the breath is knocked out of her. Jack is standing over us, shotgun at the ready, but he knows the danger is passed. Eric is visibly shaking.
"Wh… what happened?"
"Southpaw," Luna whispers beneath me. "He saved my life." Then she bursts into tears.
Jack and I squat down next to the unmoving gray body of Southpaw, whilst Eric and Luna comfort each other as best they can.
"What do you think, bro?" I ask, anxiously.
Jack reaches out a hand, buries it under the inert furry mass.
"There's a heartbeat," he says. "But it's faint. We need to get him to Jim as soon as possible. Can you make it on the quad, with Southpaw in the trailer?"
