Hunting Season: A Love Story (3 page)

“Have a little backbone!” she’d say when he shied away from the work.

His mother had backbone. She was fearless, unflinching.

He hated it, and sometimes he hated her.

So when his mother took to her bed with headaches, the room shades drawn down to dark, her pained voice raspy as she called out, “Keep the racket down would you please, Raymond?” when he let the front door snick shut behind him as he came in, he knew it was bad.

Her illness brought him to his knees, and hefted far more responsibility onto his eighteen-year-old shoulders than any kid should have been forced to bear.

He ran the shop and nursed his mother until the tumor in her brain made her crazy with pain. And all the while he looked into the future like a promise. He would sell the shop when his mother was gone and go to college and he would marry, because of course she would wait, would say yes, yes, Ray, it will always be the two of us against the world.

But she had slipped away when he wasn’t looking. First his mother, gone in the night and buried in the plot beside his father at Trout Creek Cemetery, and then his girl, right out from under him like some magic trick, him still standing there, struck dumb with wonder. Robert “Bud” Plano had come in with his big Texas accent and his big money and his big game ambitions and the man had taken his girl.

There was a time in his life Ray could have been anything.

Anyone.

Now he was nothing.

No one.

“Ray?” Luke reached for one of the trays to take back to the walk-in but the bigger man grabbed his arm and stopped him.

“You go on.” Why had he even hesitated? He’d planned on sending the kid home early anyway. “I got enough work here to keep me ’til dawn.”

“See ya tomorrow.” Luke hesitated at the door, shrugging on his coat. “I’m sure she’ll be in tonight.”

“Who?” Ray turned to hide the color in his cheeks, picking up a knife, his hands moving with deft precision but without thought as he trimmed the fat edge from a steak Luke had left too marbled, creating something as close to a work of art as he was able.

“I heard Bud got a six-pointer yesterday.”

“Well good for him.”

And that wasn’t all he got, was it?

Even that bitter thought couldn’t stop the jolt of anticipation mixed with dread that clenched his stomach at the thought of her arrival.

Ray called to the kid as he walked out the door. “Hope you get lucky!”

Luke poked his head back in, grinning. “With Burnham or the bear?”

“Which one do you want more?”

Luke hesitated.

“Young bucks.” Ray shook his head. “Go! Before I change my mind. And drive careful on those roads!”

The door closed behind him with a sticking shudder and a faint tinkle. The bells that had been on that same door since he was a little kid were still there, letting him know when a customer had arrived. He hated those damned things, but as closing time grew near, he found himself listening for them anyway—listening for her.

3

The gales of November were capricious. By the time Ariana walked into Koski’s, the snow had turned to an angry sleet. The ground was lightly covered, making a bright palette for deer sign and blood trails.

The bells over the door tinkled.

Koski’s was small but brightly lit. Ray had started clean-up early, half of the long, silver counters already emptied of their contents. There were heads—two deer and a moose—mounted on the wall, an ironic reminder to customers of what they were really buying.

Ariana stopped at the register, and Ray didn’t even bother with eye contact. Just wiped his hands off on his apron and headed for the door without a word. She heard the muffled squeak of the tailgate coming down, and with Ray outside, it was quiet in the shop. Luke had gone home for the day. Just the two of them now.

She stared into a display case half-filled with bright red ground chuck.

Outside, Ray groaned, struggling to heft the meat.

He finally appeared in the doorway, shoulders wet with sleet, hauling the game bag through the shop and muttering something under his breath about how goddamn heavy it was.

Ariana grabbed one of the nylon cords hanging off the polyester, rip-stop material and helped Ray drag the bag to the freezer. He glanced at her, surprised at the aid.

The latch on the freezer door stuck and Ray had to yank it open. It creaked on its rusty hinges, the old-fashioned kind. His mother had never invested in anything new and neither had he. Ray grabbed a door stop off a shelf and dropped it to the floor, using his foot to shove it under. Pushing past the black floor-to-ceiling rubber flaps that kept in the cold, they struggled to pull the bag behind them, both out of breath, both sweating, Ariana lagging behind under the strain.

Ray hit the switch. Overhead, the fluorescent light buzzed like a mass of carcass flies, pausing to flicker in protest before illuminating something raw and unrecognizable on the butcher block.

Ariana’s right boot grazed against something on the floor.

It nearly tripped her, and she just managed to catch herself before falling, struggling to keep up with Ray.

Wasn’t a loud noise.

Just a quiet
click
.

Ray said, “Oh, fuck.”

“What?”

Ariana looked back toward the door, obscured by the insulating rubber. The bright light from the front of the shop was gone now.

Ray glared at her. “Do you have any idea what you just did?”

“I think my foot knocked the door stop. Sorry.”

“Sorry?”

“Yeah, it was an accident. What’s the big deal?”

Ray laughed, but there was anger in it. “That door only opens from the outside.”

“You’re joking.”

Ariana let go of the nylon cord and walked over to the door, looking for the latch. There was nothing but smooth metal. “Who would make a door that opens only from the outside?”

“It’s old.”

“No shit. And Luke’s gone?”

“Yeah, I sent him home a half hour ago. Guess we’ll have to call Bud.”

“My cell’s in the truck.”

“Well, shit.”

“You’re telling me there’s no way to open that door?”

“Luke will be in tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? I can’t be in this freezer all night.” Ariana looked at her watch. “It’s ten of five. Maybe you’ll have another customer.”

“I locked the doors behind you. The snow. It was getting heavy. I didn’t think—”

“You can say that again.”

“I’m not the one who knocked that door closed.”

“Is that door even up to code? Jesus!”

Ray looked at her. “Some of us don’t have your money.”

“It’s common safety, Ray. Now we’re gonna freeze to death.”

“We are not gonna freeze to death.” Ray looked up toward the ceiling. “I can block off those vents up there. It’ll be cold. I’ll grant you that. But we can make it ’til tomorrow afternoon.”

“Afternoon? What time does Luke show up for work?”

“I told him to be in around eleven.”

“You have got to be kidding me. Great management there, Ray. Top notch.”

“Noon at the latest.”

“Noon?”

“Unless he doesn’t get himself a bear.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“Then he might not come in at all.”

She stared at him, speechless. Ray ignored her and tried the door, hitting it hard with his hip. It shuddered but stayed shut. He grabbed one of the long beef hooks—the closest thing he had to a pry bar—and tried to wedge it between the door jamb and the metal door.

If it had been the new aluminum kind, it would have bent like a tin can, but this thing was heavy, solid steel, more bank safe than freezer. Of course, if it had been one of the new freezers, it would have a latch on the inside.

“No luck?” Ariana shivered, looking over his shoulder.

“If it weren’t for bad luck, I wouldn’t have any.” Ray gave up, swinging the beef hook idly as he looked around the freezer, assessing. He squinted up at the vents in the ceiling and then looked at Ariana, speculative. “Think you could fit through there?”

“Are you crazy?” Ariana blinked, looking between Ray and the vents, about a foot-square each.

He shrugged and tossed the beef hook aside, letting it clatter to the cement floor. “Well then, I guess we’ll have to hunker down and wait it out.”

“I could punch you in the face, Raymond.”

“Go ahead.” Ray jutted his chin out like an offering. “Hit me. At least that’s something. It’s better than twenty years of pretending.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Pretending you don’t hate me.”

“
I
hate
you?”
Ariana said, incredulous. She turned away from him, nudging the rubber flaps aside so she could get to the door, pounding on it with her fists. “Help! Help! Someone help us!”

She tried to twist away from the vice grip Ray had on her shoulders, pulling her back into the room.

“That’s not helping.”

Ariana panted, out of breath. “Well it’s more than you’re doing!”

“Look, we have to stay calm.” Ray turned her toward him, meeting her eyes. Ariana blinked back tears. “We’re going to be okay. Do you hear me?”

She nodded, teeth chattering, looking like she wanted to believe him.

“What are we going to do?”

Ray let her go and looked around, his lips thinning as he considered their options. “I’ve got butcher paper, tons of plastic wrap. We can keep ourselves warm if we have to until someone comes.”

“I can’t believe this is happening.” Ariana turned in slow circles, hugging herself close, eyes wild. “I can’t do this.”

Ray crossed his arms, leaning back against the butcher block. “I don’t want to be stuck in here with you either.”

She stared at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ve been coming in here for what? Ten, fifteen years?” He asked the question, but they both knew just how long it had been. “Most days, you don’t even look at me. Don’t ever speak to me. I’m just another one of your hired help.”

“No. That’s not it. You...it’s
you
who—”

“What?” Ray stepped in a little closer. “You want to blame me for something?”

“I thought you hated me.”

“Really?”

“Don’t rush to say I’m wrong or anything.”

“Why would I hate you?” Ray asked.

“I think you know.”

“I’ve never hated you, Ariana. Not ever.” He shook his head. “Not even on the day I saw your engagement announcement.”

Ariana looked at the floor. “I was eighteen, Ray,” she said softly. “I was a kid.”

“So was I.”

Ariana looked away and shivered, hugging herself, focusing again on the door. “There’s really no way out of here?”

“That’s my girl, always looking for a way out.”

“Your girl?” Ariana’s eyebrow went up, but so did the corner of her mouth, almost a smile.

“Trust me, there’s no way out.” Ray looked at the vents again. “Besides the door, that’s it, and you’re right—even you couldn’t fit through those.”

“What about this other door?” Ariana avoided the butcher block as she went around Ray, heading for the back of the cooler. There were four hanging deer carcasses on hooks on one side of the freezer, their dead eyes filmy and vacant. The other side was lined with sides of beef, the ribs stark white curves of bone.

Ray grabbed her arm, yanking her back. “That’s not an exit.”

“What’s in there?”

“Just more freezer.” He steered her away, back toward the butcher block.

“I’m cold.”

“Here.” Ray grabbed an old Carhart coat off a hook and put it around her shoulders.

Ariana eased down against the wall and Ray sat beside her.

“There is a bright side,” he said.

“I’d love to hear it.”

“I keep the temperature at a steady thirty-seven degrees Fahrenheit.”

“So?”

“That means it’s warmer in here than outside.”

Ariana laughed. “You always were an optimist. Remember what I used to call you?”

“Mr. Sunshine.” Ray actually blushed.

“You were my happy golden boy. It’s funny. When I think of you back then, in high school I mean...when I picture you it’s always with that big shit-eating grin on your face.”