• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

By Root 937 0

and carrot juice, spinach. I can tell that eating these foods has helped greatly since I’ve only had to use my flashlight (fitted with a red lens) twice. Another tactic for walking in complete darkness outdoors is called “off-center vision,” and I’m good at it. The trick is not to look directly at objects—in my case, landmarks like dead trees or odd-shaped boulders I noted on my trek in—or they’ll seem to disappear. Looking at objects full-on directly utilizes the cone area of the retina, which is not active during times of darkness. Instead, I look to the left, right, above, or below the object I’m observing in order to use the area of the retina containing the rod cells, which are sensitive in darkness. If I keep moving my eyes around the object of interest, I can “see” what I’m looking at better than if I shine my headlamp on it. Plus, I’m not blinded afterward by the light. I’ve done my best to stay near the trail in but not to literally retrace my steps. As on the way in, I avoid soft ground where I may leave footprints as well as brush where I may break twigs in passing through. I stay as much as I can to hard-packed game trails or rock, disturbing as little as possible.

Earlier in the night, after I left my place of hiding where I observed the forensics team do their work, I methodically discarded evidence that could implicate me. I used the geology of the area to my advantage, especially the huge granite boulders piled up on top of each other and the scree on the denuded faces of two mountains I passed. The cache of clean clothing I’d left behind was easy to find in the dark and I changed from top to bottom, from boots to hat. I cleaned the barrel and chamber of my rifle with a field cleaning kit so thoroughly it would be difficult to tell it has been fired recently. I scrubbed exposed skin—the bands of skin between my gloves and coat cuffs, my face and neck—clean of gunpowder residue with wet wipes I brought in a ziplock bag. My old bloody clothing I wadded up tight and slipped into a crack in the boulder field where it dropped away deep. So deep, I barely heard when it landed. The depth beneath these boulder fields always astonishes me, and I wonder what lives in the dark within them. I imagine that whatever is down there scuttling in the absolute blackness will feast on the blood-drenched clothing and eventually reduce it to scat. The single spent cartridge and rifle cleaning patches I dropped in separate slits in the boulder scree. I washed my skinning knife in a spring-fed creek with biodegradable soap, and buried the washcloth under a log so heavy it strained me to turn it over.

I am now probably the cleanest hunter in the Rocky Mountains, and the thought makes me smile. It may be silly to take such precautions, I know that. After all, a hunter who has discharged a weapon is not an unusual circumstance. But if caught, I’d rather err on the side of caution. I’d rather be ruled out immediately by the fact that I haven’t fired a shot all day. Nevertheless, my hunting license, habitat stamp, and maps of the area are in my backpack and they are proof of my legitimacy. If stopped and questioned, it’s the reason I’m out here. The only thing that can possibly link me to the crime if I were stopped is the human head, which is triple wrapped in plastic inside the daypack. As I walk along, I practice hurling it away from me until I become quite good at it. I think I can do it unobtrusively by swinging it behind my back and throwing it off to the side. The trick, I think, is not to turn and watch where it lands, which might draw attention to it. And hope it lands on soft pine needles and doesn’t thump against a hollow tree trunk or crash through branches. Luck so far has been on my side. Still, though, I don’t want to take any risks.

And I fear that one of the elk hunters will awaken and step outside his tent and see me as I pass through. I don’t want to have to use my knife again.

I WAIT outside the elk camp for most of an hour. My hearing is acute. I’ve identified five breathers in the tents. Two in two tents,