earlier—yes, it’s a him—his pelt is over there.” He pointed towards the opening of the cave. “Oh, and I borrowed your Bowie knife, by the way.” Big. Toothy. Grin.
“What if that ,” I shivered, pointing to the carcass, “attracts more of them?”
He laughed now, pulling something that resembled a stomach or spleen from the gaping hole that used to be the coyote’s underside. “I’m sure he resorted to coyote cannibalism long ago.” He said coyote like ky-yoat .
I grimaced at the thought and for some reason Tex laughed again.
“And now, ladies and gentleman, the main event!” Tex made a large, exaggerated gesture towards the naked and gutless body. I found it odd that he knotted a rope around one of the coyote’s legs.
“Oh, God,” I squeaked, afraid to know what came next if the disembowelment wasn’t the main event.
“I’ll need your help though, Kid.” I decided to give up on him calling me Elle, so I kept silent and stood next to him.
“Grab the back feet and I’ve got the front. Let’s bring him towards the front of the cave.”
Realization hit me and my jaw metaphorically hit the ground. “You’re kidding me, right? You’re not going to…”
There was that big grin again. “We can’t miss a chance at freshly cooked meat, now can we?”
We both carried the coyote carcass to the cave entrance, making sure to steer clear of the light. When we stopped, Tex instructed, “Now, let’s swing him back and forth and toss him out into the oven AKA daytime.” He held the other end of the rope.
I could already feel myself sweat just being so close to the light. “Let’s just get this over with,” I murmured.
“On the count of three…” Tex grinned, and I couldn’t help but mirror his emotions. It was a complete one-eighty since this morning—for both of us. What happened was something we had to put behind us if we wanted to go on. I thought we were friends, and if he felt the same, for some reason that was a big step for him.
Tex yelled, “Three,” and we tossed our meal into the burning sunlight. The rope yanked, but didn’t come loose from either end. I could hear the skin sizzle and watched the color change from a fleshy pink to brown. The smell wafted in and it reminded me of when my dad cooked chicken on the grill. My mouth watered with anticipation.
It only took a few minutes and Tex pulled the rope, tugging our meal into the cave, a little at a time. He dragged it beside the blanket and we sat down in front of it. Tex took my knife, sliced a small piece off, and blew on it. He gave it to me; I sniffed it.
“ Aah,” he sighed. “Revenge is so sweet!”
I hesitated and then took a bite. I instantly enjoyed the flavor and the fresh taste. I laughed at Tex’s remark and added, “And meaty!” I passed the knife back to him, so he could have a slice; it continued that way until we were both satiated.
“That was a rare delicacy.” He rubbed his stomach. He looked pleased with himself.
“A rare delicacy, indeed, Chef.”
He cleaned off my knife with the edge of the blanket and returned it to me.
“Man,” he laid back, both his hands on his stomach. “I haven’t had fresh meat in—wow—three or four years.”
“It’s been longer for me.” I changed the subject. “It’s nice having company.” I was still sitting up, my knees against my chest.
“Hmm…” He said, like he wasn’t sure how to reply to that.
“What are you afraid of?” I didn’t look at him. I just stared down at the half-eaten coyote body. It seemed morbid. He might have been the last coyote on this dead planet and we just caused the extinction of an endangered species. Hell, at this point, I was an endangered species—survival of the fittest. It was
“What if that ,” I shivered, pointing to the carcass, “attracts more of them?”
He laughed now, pulling something that resembled a stomach or spleen from the gaping hole that used to be the coyote’s underside. “I’m sure he resorted to coyote cannibalism long ago.” He said coyote like ky-yoat .
I grimaced at the thought and for some reason Tex laughed again.
“And now, ladies and gentleman, the main event!” Tex made a large, exaggerated gesture towards the naked and gutless body. I found it odd that he knotted a rope around one of the coyote’s legs.
“Oh, God,” I squeaked, afraid to know what came next if the disembowelment wasn’t the main event.
“I’ll need your help though, Kid.” I decided to give up on him calling me Elle, so I kept silent and stood next to him.
“Grab the back feet and I’ve got the front. Let’s bring him towards the front of the cave.”
Realization hit me and my jaw metaphorically hit the ground. “You’re kidding me, right? You’re not going to…”
There was that big grin again. “We can’t miss a chance at freshly cooked meat, now can we?”
We both carried the coyote carcass to the cave entrance, making sure to steer clear of the light. When we stopped, Tex instructed, “Now, let’s swing him back and forth and toss him out into the oven AKA daytime.” He held the other end of the rope.
I could already feel myself sweat just being so close to the light. “Let’s just get this over with,” I murmured.
“On the count of three…” Tex grinned, and I couldn’t help but mirror his emotions. It was a complete one-eighty since this morning—for both of us. What happened was something we had to put behind us if we wanted to go on. I thought we were friends, and if he felt the same, for some reason that was a big step for him.
Tex yelled, “Three,” and we tossed our meal into the burning sunlight. The rope yanked, but didn’t come loose from either end. I could hear the skin sizzle and watched the color change from a fleshy pink to brown. The smell wafted in and it reminded me of when my dad cooked chicken on the grill. My mouth watered with anticipation.
It only took a few minutes and Tex pulled the rope, tugging our meal into the cave, a little at a time. He dragged it beside the blanket and we sat down in front of it. Tex took my knife, sliced a small piece off, and blew on it. He gave it to me; I sniffed it.
“ Aah,” he sighed. “Revenge is so sweet!”
I hesitated and then took a bite. I instantly enjoyed the flavor and the fresh taste. I laughed at Tex’s remark and added, “And meaty!” I passed the knife back to him, so he could have a slice; it continued that way until we were both satiated.
“That was a rare delicacy.” He rubbed his stomach. He looked pleased with himself.
“A rare delicacy, indeed, Chef.”
He cleaned off my knife with the edge of the blanket and returned it to me.
“Man,” he laid back, both his hands on his stomach. “I haven’t had fresh meat in—wow—three or four years.”
“It’s been longer for me.” I changed the subject. “It’s nice having company.” I was still sitting up, my knees against my chest.
“Hmm…” He said, like he wasn’t sure how to reply to that.
“What are you afraid of?” I didn’t look at him. I just stared down at the half-eaten coyote body. It seemed morbid. He might have been the last coyote on this dead planet and we just caused the extinction of an endangered species. Hell, at this point, I was an endangered species—survival of the fittest. It was
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