Daddy's Boy

“Wait up, Pa!” a sleepy Chip shouted as he struggled to keep up with his father’s brisk pace. It was dark, and the thick, muddy ground kept sucking at his shoes, making him stumble and nearly drop his rifle. The weapon was about as long as he was tall.

Pa paid no attention.

It wasn’t until they had reached a clearing that they finally slowed down. Pa raised the burning lamp high, and Chip noticed a change in the terrain ahead. Just a few feet in front of them, the ground became smooth, mossy water. They were at the edge of a bog.

Pa unwrapped a block of tobacco and bit a large hunk off. Chip watched him spit a black gob that was quickly swallowed up by the water.

After a long stretch of silence, Pa pulled out his brass pocket watch and held it under the lamplight. Humming with approval, he said, “If you get through this, you’re gunna go home a man, Chip. Get ‘er ready. They’ll be comin’ up soon.” Chip raised the rifle obediently, trying not to let its weight get the better of him. But what was coming? ‘Gators?

Pa hoisted his own rifle and pointed it right into the middle of the bog where the water was starting to heave, as if breathing. Soon, a dark, amorphous lump rose from the surface.

The sudden fire from Pa’s rifle made Chip jump. A direct hit: a chunk exploded off the lump and it sank back into the water.

“Watch ‘em,” Pa grunted, spitting more tobacco. “The rest’ll likely come closer.”
He was right. More and more lumps rose, some very close to the edge of the bog where they stood. The lamplight fell on one of them and Chip yelped: faces! Dark, brown, and leathery – they were heads and bodies coming up. Pa and Chip were hunting people!

Shot after shot rang out from Pa’s weapon as more of these bog people were driven back under the water. But Chip remained motionless.

“Whatcha waitin’ for, boy? Pick one and start shootin’!”

Chip was shivering like a newborn rabbit, but he raised his rifle nonetheless. As they drew closer, he noticed they were strange and hideous people. Some had been shot before, and trudged forward with limbs or chunks of their chests missing. Others were still in one piece, but parts of their bodies were fleshless and exposed brown, wet bone.

But one in particular was edging closer to Chip. The boy could see its entire body clearly – all dirty and thick, like muddy leather. Pieces of rope dangled from its neck and wrists. However, what made it positively frightening was the missing skin around its face, which gave it a wide, grimy, lipless grin. Chip’s young heart thumped with a frenzy in his chest.

“Go away!” Chip hollered at this man from the bog. “Just go home! Go back where you come from!” But of course, this didn’t deter it; it continued to drag itself forward with little noise or hurry. Chip’s quivering hand tried to keep the rifle still, and he bit his tongue to still his whimpering. Closer and closer the bog man shuffled. At least five more bog people trailed behind him. Pa’s clever aim sent most of them right back to their watery home, but he was clearly leaving the wide-smiler for Chip.

The boy’s aim circled wildly around his field of vision. This was all too terrifying; keeping his hands steady would be impossible. But he had to shoot. Between every fire of his own, Pa commanded him to shoot. It would be too late soon – the bog man would be on him.

Holding his breath and screwing his eyes shut, Chip fired three shots. The recoil nearly sent him flat against the mud, and the sharp stink of hot metal and gunpowder wafted up his nose. Daring to open an eye, The boy he saw the bog man lying in the thick water with a smoking hole where his skinless smile had been. He was very still.

Chip jumped as Pa’s hand fell on his shoulder. Under the wide brim of his dad’s lizard-skin hat was the glimmer of a smile. “You got ‘im, Chip. But don’t slow down, there’s more to bag.”

The kid’s heavy breathing and racing heart didn’t ease, but now joy and pride was beginning to overturn his fear. He positioned himself and took aim, this time with his hand a little steadier. His shots were far from perfect, but Pa took down anyone that he missed. There were lots of these people, but they were slow, and Pa had packed plenty of ammunition. It didn’t take long for the boy to forget, or maybe just stop caring, that they were hunting humans.

Soon, when the last of them had sunk back into the water, the morning sunlight started weaving through the mess of trees and hit the clearing. Before long, the bog was calm and motionless, like nothing had ever happened. Like it had all been a weird dream.

Pa extinguished the lamp and shouldered his rifle. Without a word, he turned back and walked towards home.

“Pa?” Chip asked trailing after him, filled with pride but also curiosity. “Who… were they?”

Pa snorted and spat into a passing bush. “They’re your new responsibility. What we did tonight was nothin’; tomorrow they’re gunna come back. And the night after tomorrow. And every night after that. We kill ‘em, but they just come back. But that’s okay; killin’s what we do.” He dropped his hand on the boy's shoulder again. "It's a man's job."

And those were the only words that passed between them that whole day. Chip didn’t mind. He was a man now.

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Credited to: http://darkandmagical.blogspot.com.au