How to Take the Kill Shot - Part Two by: Enemyoffun Jonas Oliver's life has been turned upside down. While on vacation his parents are murdered, he's stranded on a deserted island and all he can think about is revenge. The only tools he has are his intellect, his overwhelming sense of right and wrong and his skill with a bow.

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Author's Note: This post will only have one chapter but I'm hoping that its not going to be the norm. I'd like to thank everyone who's contributed and gave me information on archery. I'd also like to thank the good people at DC Comics, because Green Arrow is after all their character.

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Chapter Three:

When I opened my eyes this morning, I wasn’t confused about where I was.

I groaned and stretched, trying to work all the knots out of my stiff joints. Today I was going to have to find some real shelter. I wondered if I could make one. I’d seen Buck do it a hundred times on his show so I’m sure it wasn’t all that hard. He had a variety of different ways to do it, some were more complicated than others but they all looked like a kid could do it. But Buck had something I didn’t: a lot more than the clothes off his back. What did he say about surviving?

Buck’s voice entered my head as if he were standing next to me: “You need to comb the beach, mate. There’s bound to be a bunch of stuff washed up there.”

I smiled and climbed down the tree.

I gathered my things. Last night while I was trying to fall asleep I had a great brainstorm. I took my shirt and tore it into strips then wrapped those strips around my six arrows. It made the perfect makeshift quiver. I knew my shirt was now useless but it was pretty gone anyway. I tied the “quiver” around my wrist and carried my bow. I tossed the green stones back into the little pond, there was always more where those came from. I took a quick look at my oasis, hopefully I could find something to carry water in so I could explore further. It was getting tedious having to count every time I left. Maybe there were other water sources on the island, ones that weren’t so hard to find.

I left my oasis, counting as I did.

The air was cool today, until like the warmth from the last few days. I was kinda cursing the fact that that son of a bitch had ripped my shirt. I shivered as I walked, trying my best not to think about the cold. I still had my board shorts but they weren’t right for my body. I think I might have mentioned about wanting to appear as masculine as possible. The t-shirt was one part and the shorts were the other. They were the most masculine ones I could find. My mother wasn’t too happy about it but I she got me into the bikini so she was part happy. I’d wear a fricking tutu and join the cheerleading squad if it could bring her and dad back.

It took me over two hours to reach the beach. I backtracked to the trampled path from before. I found a quicker route to it, cutting a couple of hours from my journey. Once there, I took a moment to wiggle my toes in the sand. It was the whitest sand I’d ever seen and was not as hot as I thought it might be. It felt good going through my toes though. Mia would have hated it. She was part Irish on her mother’s side, so her skin was white as can be. When her hair wasn’t pink, it was actually a nice shade of red. She dyed it pink last year; she got tired of all the carrot top jokes.

She hated everything about the beach. Mia was short and on the chubby---at least she thought she was---I thought she was perfect and told her that numerous times. She hated anything to do with showing more skin than she had too. When they announced they were making us wear uniforms, Mia headed the protest to get them banned. A lot of girls got on her side because none of them wanted to wear those short skirts but they were overruled by the football, lacrosse and basketball teams. Men were pigs; I knew that first hand---half of them thought I was a kicking babe. I stopped associating myself with the pigs a long time ago. I was still a man but not one of those men.

I combed the beach just like Buck said. I started near the shore first, walking very slowly. I found a lot of sea shells, some plastic bags and shards of glass. It was like that for the first hour or so. But on the second hour I hit pay dirt. Near the tip of the peninsula, was a bunch of rocks. There was a lot of stuff that wasn’t up against them. I waded out to them; the water only went up to my chest. I found some good treasures: including an empty milk carton, which was all worth it as far as I was concerned. I grabbed as many things as I could and tossed them on the beach. I spent twenty minutes wading out to the rocks and back to the beach. I made the trip three times before I gathered everything there.

My biggest haul was also my most heartbreaking. I’m not sure where it came from or how it got there but I recognized the suitcase immediately: it was my mother’s. I broke down when I pushed it onto the beach. It was the last thing I retrieved because I was kind of avoiding it. I cried for a long time, unable to even look at it. It wasn’t anything fancy; she bought a set of three, all of them engraved with her initials J.O. It took me a long time to stop crying and even longer before I actually got up the nerve to open it.

When I popped the lid, I cried even longer. It mostly contained my mother’s clothes but on the top of them was a picture of us. It was from three years, taken on our trip to New York. Mom and Dad were on either side of me, their arms wrapping me tightly, the Statue of Liberty in the background. It was a good day, a bit cold but I didn’t care. I saw the smile on my face; I was so happy back then. There was no sign of genetic problems; I hadn’t even gone through my androgynous stage then. My hair was still short and my face still looked like a boy’s.

I held the picture in my trembling hands for the longest time.

I rummaged through the rest of the suitcase. It was mainly clothes, several shirts, some bras that were too big for my little bumps, a few pairs of her underwear. There were several pairs of shorts and some socks. There were no shoes though which was a real bummer because it turned out we were the same size--- I have small feet and I hate it. Underneath the clothes was a makeup bag but there was nothing in there that I wanted. I found a flashlight with a spare pack of batteries, at least four books, a can of bug spray, her iPod and her phone. That was the biggest find of them all. My mother actually had two phones, one she used strictly for work and other she used for personal use. She kept her personal one on her at all times. So this one was her work phone.

I pulled it out of case and flipped it open. It had a full charge but no signal. I spent the better part of ten minutes trying to find one. I ran up and down the beach, almost running myself to exhaustion but still I got nothing. I wanted to toss the damn thing into the ocean but instead I returned it to the suitcase. I shut the case, making sure everything was securely inside then went to look at the other junk I salvaged from the deep.

Most of it was that: junk. There was a couple pieces of drift wood, some plastic bags; there was a bunch of wire that might come in handy. I got some Styrofoam that used to be a McDonald’s cup I think and a piece of a surfboard. There were a couple of empty plastic bottles too---they’d be good for water. The most interesting piece was actually a length of metal, about ten inches long. I’m not sure where it was from but it was light enough to float and had a jagged end. I smiled when I saw it because my stone knife was now a thing of the past.

I reopened the suitcase and managed to cram everything inside. It was a tight squeeze but I managed. Then I took one last walk up and down the beach. I walked along it for about ten minutes and was about to give up when I noticed something buried in the sand. It was half submerged so I missed it the first time. I pulled it out in one big yank and laughed.

It was a sun bleached high heel. I laughed because boy did it bring back memories…

>--------------------------------------------------->

“You ask her out yet?” asked my buddy Roy as we walked down the hall together.

We both laughed. I told her I’d pick her up at seven on Friday night, the dance was at eight. She walked toward me, pulled out a pen and scribbled her address on my hand. I hated that I was only fourteen and couldn’t drive. Underneath her address she wrote: I’m wearing a pink dress and shoes so maybe you should dress to match.

>--------------------------------------------------->

I held the pink high heel in my hand. I groaned and angrily threw it into the ocean.

I’m never going to see her again.

I left the beach, dragging my mother’s suitcase behind me. It didn’t weight that much but it was easier to drag through the sand then carry it. Once I got to my trampled path, I picked it by the handle and started lugging it in my left hand, the right I carried my bow. Once again I went back to my oasis via the shortcut and got there in about two hours. I dropped the suitcase at the base of my tree and the first thing I did was fill the large milk jug with water. It didn’t have a top but I didn’t care. I filled up the two plastic bottles next, only one of them had a top.

I closed up the suitcase but not before taking the metal shard with me. I took one of my mother’s shirts from the case, it was pink, something I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing. But more importantly than that, it was bright. I tore it in strips. Then I tied one strip to the lowest branch I could find on my tree. I grabbed the capped bottle of water, the flashlight and my bow and started off in the direction of the rock mound I found yesterday. Today I was a little more prepared for a long journey though. Every sixth tree, I carved an “X” into the bark, marking my trail. It was something my father taught me, in case I ever got lost.

I made the hour walk without a problem. I climbed back up the mound and looked at the island again. My ultimate goal was the mountain but I knew I wasn’t going to get there today. Instead I needed to concentrate on a better place to sleep. As much as I liked the oasis spot, it was a little open and too near a water source to be considered secure. If there were predators on this island then it was stupid to be so close to water.

I scanned the jungle, trying to find a better place. I think I spotted it too. There was a copse of trees that was taller than the others. I counted about six treetops, towering up above the rest of the canopy. I smiled, they were perfect. I climbed back down the mound. It took me a few seconds to get oriented but as soon as I did I started off in the direction of my newest find. It was a grueling hike and the air didn’t help much. The cool air from the morning was gone to be replaced by something that only be described as sweltering.

It took me all day to reach the trees. I was so exhausted when I finally got there I almost collapsed. I fell against one of the thick, tall trunks and took a deep breath. We once went on a trip to Redwood National Park and the trees there were massive. These six weren’t as big but they were pretty close. They looked study too and had a strange green bark. I’d never seen anything like it. Maybe they’re from some alien planet. I laughed as I sat with my back to the tree, taking a swig of my water.

How far away was it from the mound? I’d actually lost count. I knew it was way over two hundred feet. Mind you my feet are small so it’s possibly it was much further away than that. I took several sips from my bottle but I need had plenty of water. I needed that water if I was going to hike it back to my oasis tonight.

I looked up at the sky. The sun was still out but it was lower. I wished I paid more attention to my father when he tried to explain the sun and its relative position in the sky during the times of day. He tried to lecture me on it once but it was boring. I knew it was directly overhead at noon but that’s all I could remember. It wasn’t overhead now so I’m guessing it was sometime afternoon. I cursed myself for now wearing my watch. I always took my watch off when I went to sleep. After being battered by all those storms I practically pulled it off from exhaustion. When I woke up the morning after the storm I forgot it. I got dressed in the closest clothes and stumbled onto the deck. That’s when the drug dealers showed up.

So my fancy, waterproof dive watch---a gift from my grandfather---was now at the bottom of the ocean somewhere. I guess it’s kind of fitting, considering its nature.

I took another sip of water and decided to get up. As soon as I did my legs seemed to give out on me. I groaned and slumped back to the ground. I guess I’m not as in shape as I thought. I’d been doing a lot of walking the last few days so I figured I was getting a lot of exercise but I think it’s only made it worse. I could barely keep my eyes open. All I could think about as my eyelids fluttered was the Dance and how I suck at it.

>-------------------------------------------------------->

“Ok” said Roy as he straightened his tie. “Why am I taking Mia again?”

I screamed.

>-------------------------------------------------->

When I opened my eyes I wanted to scream. Sandra’s beautiful face was gone to be replaced by a hideous boar. The boar’s head was right over me, sniffing about my chest, grunting like a pig---well I guess that’s a given. It was absolutely huge. It had to at least three feet tall and it looked to weigh at least two hundred pounds. I’d only seen them at the zoo or on Animal Planet. In fact I once watched something on them and I was certain they didn’t live in the Atlantic. At least not that I heard.

I slapped a hand on my mouth, remembering something else about boars. They scared real easy and defended themselves like vicious beasts. They’ve even been known to kill people from time to time. The guy in front of me was male, I knew this because I could see his tusks---females had theirs in their mouth.

I moved my head, looking around him slowly. He was alone which I guess was a good thing. I’m not sure if I could handle more than one. In fact I’m not even sure I could handle this guy. He could have killed me with one sweep of his head. Calm down and don’t panic. I tried to remember if Buck had anything about wild boars on his show but I actually drew a blank. I was too scared to think. I tried to see if there was another way out of this. I had my bow and the metal but both were useless. If I made any sudden moves I was definitely a goner.

The boar continued to sniff. It moved its head from my chest down my stomach to my crotch. It sniffed there for a few seconds then sniffed down my left leg. What the hell was it looking for? I think they were omnivores so maybe I smelled tasty. God wouldn’t that be ironic, a pig eating a human for a change. I wanted to laugh but was glad that I still had a hand over my mouth. I tensed my body and waited it out. The boar moved its head back into my face, its large snout brushing my cheek. It smelled absolutely horrible. Its hair was all bristles and they were rough on my skin. Some of them brushed my nose. I tried to fight back the urge to sneeze but I failed.

My sneeze was like a gun shot.

The boar freaked. It jumped back and ran around in a couple of circles. I took that time to jump to my feet. I knew running was pointless because it could easily chase me down and kill me. So I did the next best thing. I turned and squeezed myself into the collection of trees. The six trees were so big and so close together, in the center of them were like a cage. It was big enough for me to fit but very narrow so I had to stand. When I was fully in the trees, the boar charged. It lowered its head and came at the trees like a battering ram. When its thick head slammed into one of the trucks, the tree actually shook.
I had enough room to raise my bow and nock an arrow. I didn’t know if there was enough to fire but I tried. I aimed for between the eyes but its skull was too thick and my arrow bounced off. It only pissed off the boar even more. It slammed harder into the tree; I nearly broke my arm because I was too close. I took a small step back and fired again. But it was too far back and my arrow hit the dirt at the boar’s feet. God damn it. I nocked my third arrow and fired. That’s when I heard the snap of word. I cursed because I knew what it was.

I was afraid something like this would happen.

I rushed the bow. I didn’t use the proper technique to make it and now it wasn’t going to hold up. I had been in a rush because I needed to eat. I cursed myself again. I should have spent today making a better bow not blundering about like an idiot. You better have enough left in you to kill this thing. I took aim again with the third arrow and let it rip. I got lucky but it wasn’t a kill shot. The area hit the boar in the leg, barely sticking in. It squealed and stumbled but it didn’t go down. It got back up and charged again.

When I fired my fourth arrow, the head chipped and shattered.

Son of a bitch.

Once again I’d been too hasty. The arrows weren’t shaped enough. Merlyn hadn’t touch me that. It was BB. He said in order to be a proper archer I needed to k now how to make proper arrows. He showed me how to shape stones into arrowheads. He called it knapping. He said his grandfather taught him who was in turn taught by his grandfather. He drilled into Roy and me, until we both made perfect arrowheads. My green arrowheads were good but I cut corners, they weren’t as good as they should have been.

Two arrows left.

I nocked one and l let it fire, the boar turned his head and got it in the eye. I’ve never seen something in so much agony. It squealed and thrashed. It kept smashing its head against the tree, trying to dislodge the arrow. I think it banged itself silly because after a few minutes it dropped to its side, giving me the perfect shot. I put my last arrow into its chest, right between two ribs. There was another crack and the bow broke in my hands. I suspected it would and I’m glad it held up as long as it did.

I waited a while to climb out of the trees to make sure the boar was dead. It thrashed about for nearly an hour, whining and wreathing in pain. Finally it let out a rattling breath and died. Merlyn’s voice came into my head: That’s how you make the kill shot.

I walked over to it and cut its throat with my metal shard, ending whatever misery it may have had left. I wiped sweat from my brow and cried. I came to a decision as I sat at the boar’s side, crying for the animal. There was nothing satisfying about killing and I vowed never to do it again unless it was absolutely necessary.