It Needed Doin'

The older mans truck was pointed in one direction, while the younger mans SUV was pointed in the opposite, both vehicles parked next to each other, their respective left sides toward each other. Both men talking to the other from their drivers seats, though their open windows.

The older man was looking off into the distance, squinting in the twilight, as he digested what he'd just been told.

The younger man waited, while studying his friends profile.

"Ski, I'm mighty tempted," said the older man. "Very, very tempted."

"I can't do it," the younger man said. "You know how it is."

"Yeah, I get it," the older man replied, scanning back and forth slowly across the parking lot they were in. "But you'll have my back though?"

"Yeah," Ski said. "We both know there's no redemption here. And I think, from his ranting in the cell yesterday... he'll go after her again. Just to prove he can. He's got a lot of grudges."

The frown on the older mans face deepened.

"We can't have that," said the older man, his chin dropping to near his chest as he sighed.

"Nope," said Ski.

The older man closed his eyes. The decision was easy to make, but the willpower to make the decision a reality was different. He discovered, with only a moments consideration, that yes, he had the willpower. He certainly had the anger.

"Tell me," stated the older man, leaning closer to his window and Ski.

"He says he's got a salt-lick set up on the South ridge of Cord's Holler. Near that patch of crab-apple trees."

"I know it," nodded the older man. "It's been a while, but I know it."

"I could bust him for having a salt-lick and using it to lure deer, but we both know nothing's gonna come of it. And since he's been telling everyone he's going to go kill something when he gets out..." Ski trailed off with.

"Yeah," the man said, scratching at his goatee. "We know where he'll be."

"He has a blind, he says. On the top of the South ridge, about fifty yards from the salt-lick."

"He puts out a salt-lick near crab-apple trees, and hunts from a blind?" The old man shook his head. "That's sad."

"There's nothing positive to the man." Ski confirmed. "Not that I see."

"If it's on top of the South ridge, I assume he's a morning shooter?" asked the older man, checking the position of the sun.

"That was my thinking."

"Yeah." The old man replied, the framework of a plan starting in his mind. "Okay."

"He gets out in three days." Ski said.

"Is he going to go the next day?" the older man asked.

"I don't know, but probably not." Ski answered. "I think he's gonna go get drunk, and spend the day fuckin' that Weiss girl."

"Oh, no. Really?" the older man winced. "Janet or Crystal?"

"Crystal."

"Christ, she's what? Seventeen?"

"I think she's eighteen." Ski said shrugging in uncertainty. "I don't know. Around there."

The older man shook his head.

"Okay. I'll go scout it," the older man said after a moment.

"You'll do it?"

"I'll do somethin'..." said the old man as he started his engine. The power-plant of the big truck woke up and growled happily.

"Mister Miller, it's gotta be final." Ski said. "You know him. He doesn't get messages. He just gets worse."

Theo Miller looked the younger man in the face squarely, and knew he was right.

"Yeah. I guess so." Theo said, his eyes narrowing. "I'm gonna go scout it. Get word to me when he gets out, if you can."

Ski nodded, and started the engine on his SUV. It made almost no noise.

"Good luck." Ski said as he was putting it in gear.

Theo just gave a who-are-you-kidding look back, and drove off.

++++++

Five days later.

It was an hour before dawn, and the sky was deep purple. Birds were making their noises overhead.

Theo Miller was lying on a body-length piece of dirty cloth he'd found. Over top of him was more of the same cloth, with a handful of leaves thrown on top, and a couple of branches that had been nearby. He was under a small clump of bushes, whose cover reached the ground, but he'd cleared his vision of his target by posting some dead twigs to prop the vision obstructing scrub to the sides.

He was cold. This was his second day in this spot, and despite his hunting clothes, worn but true, the ground had managed to steal away his body heat. Today and yesterday, he'd traveled here, walking three miles along the trails and another mile off the nearest trail, to this spot. In the dark at three a.m., it wasn't a fun hike.

Four days ago, he'd found the salt-lick, right where he'd been told. There was plenty of deer-sign, and the salt-lick was well worn. Twenty minutes of hill-climbing later, he'd found Ross Mueller's hunting blind.

The blind was lazy, like Meuller. It was a split plastic barrel on its ends upright, with dead branches thrown against the front, a folding canvas seat, and half a dozen cans of dead beer. The blind faced the salt-lick, down the side of the Holler, and off the deer-trail.

At least Meuller knew how to get himself out of the wind, Theo had thought.

He then scouted, located, and prepared his own spot. Then he learned the land in that area.

Theo was currently positioned thirty yards to the side of Mueller's blind.

He was also half-asleep, his cheek resting against his left shoulder, as he lay on his stomach facing the blind.

It was the sound of thin plastic rustling that brought him to alertness. The noise had come from in front of him.

Theo's eyes came to life, and without moving beyond slowly raising his head, he scanned in front of him, through the small gap in the leaves. His ears told him the birds were still singing, but not near Meuller's blind. Over Theo's position, yes, the sound of a mourning dove came out in its melancholy way.

It was around fifteen minutes before he could see well enough to spot a human silhouette, behind Meuller's blind, The tree the blind was under cast long shadows.

He couldn't be certain it was Meuller, and he needed to be sure.

Slowly, achingly slowly, he propped himself up on his left elbow, slid his right arm down to his side under the blanket, and pulled forward his rifle. As the tip of the barrel slid past his face, he gently grabbed and slid the dry prophylactic off that he'd put on it earlier, used to keep out any debris and moisture. He then set the end of the barrel into the split of the stick he'd set up previously, and comfortably nestled the butt of the stock against his shoulder, ready to be socked into firing position. Then he reached into his vest pocket, against his chest, and pulled out the scope. He replaced the scope in his pocket with the rubber. Taking his cautious time, he put the scope on top of the rifle, fit it into the mount it was intended for, and slid it into place until it locked in with a -click- that made him wince.

He judged that a deer would have heard the noise at thirty yards, and been put on alert. He knew a human, if it was quiet, paying attention, and knew how to filter things in his hearing, ~might~ have heard that click thirty yards away. It might be an exceptional human, but it had happened before. He was more worried about the dove near him being spooked.

Theo waited. He wasn't cold anymore. The dove above him kept singing its sad tune.

As he waited, the sky lightened to a medium purple. Royal purple, he thought.

Theo's attention was grabbed when he heard a sound of leaves moving far down the hillside to his left. He didn't turn his head to look, but it was a sound from one spot, not the rustle of all the leaf clutter in the Holler moving in the wind.

If was followed a couple of seconds later by a repeat. Theo thought it sounded like it was in a slightly different spot than the first time.

Deer.

Theo kept his relaxed gaze on the silhouette behind the blind. He didn't narrow his eyes, he needed the irises wide, so he could take in all the light he could. No sense in straining.

He was pleased to again confirm that from his angle, there was nothing behind Mueller that would catch a round. The mental straight line he drew had the round going through the target, and then up into the canopy. Not a harsh angle, but enough. That was a concern.

The rifle he was using, and the ammunition... he needed to think beyond the target.

He thought he heard more movement from his left, in the low point of the Holler.

Minutes went by, and the sky was now verging on deep blue.

The silhouette started to resolve. It was someone in a hoodie, drawn up against the cold, around the head. Stupid. It would hamper his ears, thought Theo.

The figure was looking over the top of the split between the barrel halves, his rifle propped in the lee, gazing over it at something down in the Holler.

Theo could make out the colors of the local high school sports team on the hoodie.

A minute later, he could make out the face of Ross Meuller.

His ex son-in-law.

Theo had a small surge of heat happen in that moment, in the back of his neck, which translated into a small tremor in his head that went away quickly. He always had that reaction when things were about to "get real."

Wait for it, Theo thought, as he watched Meuller's head come up, and his body shift slightly to try and see something better downslope.

No patience, was Theo's conclusion.

As he watched, knowing he wasn't going to have to rush until Meuller went into firing position, sighting along the rifle again, and as he did so, he let his own rifle stock slide down into shooters prone position with a shrug. His fingers cradled, and he rest the index finger against the trigger guard. His thumb edge rest against the top of the safety lever.

He sighted through the scope, and he decided his position was well worth the trouble. He had a good profile view of Meuller. He could see what he wanted on the man.

He put the crosshair on the spot right about where Meuller's elbow would rest against his ribs, at the low end of his rib cage.

I hope I get this between the ribs, Theo thought.

Meuller pulled his head back slightly, setting himself into his seat comfortably. Then he lifted his rifle stock up to his shoulder and bent his head to sight at his target, down below him.

Theo thumbed off his safety, put his thumb in the right position, moved his shoulder forward a half-inch to sock it into place, his finger came to rest against the trigger, and he waited.

He counted five seconds. Meuller kept shifting himself slightly. Theo thought he couldn't aim well, which is why Meuller kept fidgeting.

Theo kept his breathing shallow, so he wouldn't have to adjust his own aim. Holding this position, concentrating like this, could be draining if it went on long enough.

He needed Meuller to take his shot.

Two seconds later, Meuller did.

The flash came from the end of Mueller's rifle, and that was all Theo needed. As the sound of the rifle-shot reached him, Theo's own finger tightened, and his own rifle reported.

Meuller flew sideways out of his seat, his trailing foot leaving the ground, and kicking the split barrel forward as he went. His rifle spun away, landing on the hillside where it slid downslope a few feet. Meuller came to rest maybe a yard from where he'd been sitting, and then log-rolled maybe four feet before he came to rest against the trunk of the tree he'd been under. His feet were toward Theo.

Theo reached forward quickly with his left hand, swept away his makeshift tripod, and brushed away the sticks he'd used to clear foliage out of his vision. His rifle came back as he sat up in the branches, interfering with his movement.

He came up to a kneeling position, and brought his rifle to bear on Meuller, whose leg was moving... one leg, the one on top, kicking back and forth jerkily. As Theo came to both feet, he heard a wet coughing sound from Meuller.

Thirty yards past Meuller, Theo saw a green leaf drift down from above, another leaf, ten yards further. If he drew a line, both leaves matched up with Theo's current and Meuller's former position.

Good. There was no finding that round, Theo nodded to himself.

He watched Meuller for five seconds, then Theo did what he'd run through his head in practice, many times over.

He moved sideways a little, ignoring the branches and scrub as best possible, upended and gathered his blankets, dumping the improvised camouflage where he'd lain. Then, while watching Meuller as best possible, he pulled the blankets into a ball, stuffed it under his right arm, got himself back into two-hand rifle control, and stood back up to his normal height.

He then spent ten seconds with his eyes off Meuller, until he found and retrieved the shell casing. It went into his pocket to join the fun-time-jimmy.

He noticed there was no animal noise, but he could hear wind-sound. His hearing was coming back.

Mueller's leg was still kicking, acting like Meuller was trying to move. It wasn't succeeding, simply kicking against the dirt in various places it could reach.

Theo, moving in a controlled weight-transfer-establish-foot-weight-transfer motion, pushed himself out of the bushes, and approached Meuller, his sights constantly on the downed man.

Cross-stepping as he advanced, Theo moved slightly uphill from Meuller, and then parallel, until he was ten feet uphill from the man.

The sound of wet breathing was the only thing to be heard.

Theo watched for a moment, then two. He dropped the blankets, then he slung his rifle, and advanced to see the man he was killing this morning.

Ross Meuller was on his right side, his stomach against the tree trunk. Theo could see the small bullet hole in Meuller's left side, a ring of blood around it, soaked into his clothes. Mueller's arms were splayed out against the tree, his fingers clenching and twitching. There was blood on Meuller's face, around his mouth.

"Hi Ross." Theo said as he stood next to the man he'd spent two Christmases with in his home, watching him laugh and give orders to his daughter.

Meuller coughed, and there was a ribbon of bloody spit that came from his mouth.

"How you doin'?"

Meuller seemed to register Theo's presence at that, and his head wobbily moved to try and gaze up him.

"Let me help you," Theo said, kneeling, and placing his left hand on Meuller's shoulder, while keeping his right hand on the hilt of his belt knife. He pulled Meuller over toward him, bringing the younger man to rest on his back, which Theo knew would speed up the process of dying.

Mueller's eyes rolled, and then fixed on Theo's face. With another bloody cough, recognition showed on Mueller's countenance.

"Yeah, it's me," Theo said, not unkindly. He looked across Mueller's body, and there was the exit wound, on Mueller's right side. It looked like a pot pie with the top ripped off. Theo could see bone and leaf litter in the wound. The hoodie hadn't stood a chance.

"Let's have a talk." Theo said, gauging he didn't have much time.

"I didn't approve of Shelly marrying you." Theo confessed to the dying man. "I heard about you from Shelly's mother as she taught you in school... you were "the bad 'un." The trouble maker."

Meuller coughed again, and managed to drag his left arm across his body to rest against his side, his hand on his chest. His head moved, but his eyes remained on Theo.

"After you got through Shelly's mothers class, she having been your teacher in middle school and all, she kept hearing about the shit you'd pull. You spent a lot of time in detention, didn't you."

Meuller was working on his wet breathing. He wasn't doing a good job.

"Thank God for high school sports, huh?" Theo asked. "If not for that and shop class, you'd never have graduated, ain't that right?"

"But graduate you did, and after that, you got by on past glory for a while." Theo said, shifting his weight as he watched the dying man. "How you won my daughter, I'll never know. Anyone could see there was nothing to you."

Meuller coughed.

"I almost threw you out that Thanksgiving when you called Shelly a bitch in front of me, and then told my wife that she'd been a terrible teacher." Theo recounted. "Son, doing that in my house was beyond rude."

"That said, I didn't do anything past that time I took you outside and told you to shape up, or I'd deal with you." Theo reminisced. "This is me dealing with you."

"I knew you and Shelly wouldn't last. You just couldn't. Either she'd get out of her bad-boy phase, or you'd screw up. Screw up you did, and that woke Shelly up."

There was a pulse of blood out of Mueller's exit wound.

"I was glad when Shelly came home, telling us about you bringing your whore to your house, and telling Shelly that she was staying there, as you'd knocked her up." Theo had a small surge of anger over the memory. "There was no chance you two would be together after that. Shelly's mom spent a day getting her to stop crying, and stupid me, I let her keep me from kicking your ass right then."

"You told everyone a lot about yourself when you said during the divorce "I'll just get another one!" Theo informed Meuller. "Again, Shelly's mom stopped me from dusting you off."

Mueller's left hand was making some kind of contortion, and after a second, Theo realized the dying man was trying to flip him the bird.

"Heh. At least you got spirit, you asshole." Theo nodded in approval. "Too bad you couldn't be a man."

"You kept trying to put that pecker of yours everywhere you could, I have to give you that too." Theo admitted. "You stirred up a lot of trouble. A lot. If it wasn't for your uncles... but you were smart enough to keep from causing trouble outside the jurisdiction, weren't you?"

A gout of blood erupted out of Meuller's mouth, to run down his neck and into his hoodie.

"Fuck..." Theo was disgusted, recalling these memories. "I don't know how... Your uncles should have been thrown out of office. We all knew they was coverin' for you, you piece of shit."

"Last year, when you ran into Shelly at that bar and she was with her new boyfriend?" Theo told Meuller, while scanning the Holler for activity. "You just ~had~ to try and be an even bigger asshole, didn't you."

"You two are divorced, numb-nutz. And you never ~owned~ my daughter." Theo focused on the mans eyes, which looked bleary. "You and your buddies should have been in jail for beating her boyfriend Linc like you did. Four on one... you are such a coward. The sexual assault charge should have put you away for a long time, not that pissant month in county."

"But when you got out... Linc got you, didn't he?" Theo asked. "He rolled right up on you, and you didn't have your friends. Taught you one, didn't he? Did you ever get those teeth replaced?"

Mueller's left middle finger seemed to be trying to extend.

"Y'know, a man would have accepted he'd been wrong and taken the beating. Sulking about it woulda been okay, it's understandable." Theo lectured. "But you just can't be a man, can you. You had to find a way for revenge, didn't you."

"We all knew it was you that did it." Theo leaned down to tell this to Meuller. He wanted to look him in the eyes. "We may be rednecks, but we ain't stupid. Well, you are."

"It ain't hard to figure that the car that hit Shelly came from the used lot you work at. Especially when that part of her shirt was found in the underside."

"You sonuvabitch, it'll be amazing if she walks again. She can't have kids now. She's going to have to have so many surgeries... that's my daughter, you shitstain."

Theo stood, and looked down at his victim.

"After this, I'm thinkin' of goin' after your uncles." Theo said. "If they'd done their job on you... just once... none of this would have happened. None of it. Fuck."

Theo knelt down again, and into the face of the man dying in the woods at his feet. His hand was still on his knife at his side.

"My wife wanted grandkids, and you've taken that away from my family too." Theo whispered. "Part of me hates my wife for letting her stop me from taking you to task years ago. What you've done to us..."