The Depth

Chapter 4

After several years of wandering through these grounds, no such incident ever happened. The only fatalities we ever discovered were the victims from our snares and rods, and Alan's knives. There are hardly any hunters here in Winston, but if they decided to take down a deer, they'd probably butcher it into pieces that are desirable in the Market. Since the town is the size of the wilderness, it's not as abundant with wealth as cities or provinces. Most of the people here strive for money and assets to survive.

We rode home on my bike. Alan insisted on steering it, and I sat back on the carrier holding the catch. When we arrive home, Mom's on the couch watching T.V. and nothing fragrant welcomes our nostrils yet, which means she hasn't made lunch. In the earliest and lunch meals, the kitchen is Mom's domain, and I take over for supper.

"Have you been to the lake?" Mom rises from the couch, "I see you brought a tasty lunch there."

"You should cook it into a stew" I suggest "Where's Jody?"

Mom takes the fish from my fingers "In her room. Still not feeling well." She says. "Why don't you both go there and check up on her."

We knock before entering Jody's room. She lies flat on her bed, staring at the depths of her ceiling.

"Do you feel better?" I ask.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Jody pauses, "Maybe I was just shocked."

I spread my hand on her forehead and neck to feel what degree her warmth was getting on her skin, but I didn't feel any warmth at all. Her skin is the stream running from the woods. Not hot nor is even cold. For a second I thought she contracted a fever because she's me when I had it once. My joints were sore I couldn't get out of bed, and I stared out of nowhere without proper reason.

"You should come by with us." I suggest, "We're heading to the market after lunch."

"Why are we going to the market, exactly?" Alan asks suddenly.

"I need to figure out something," I answer.

Mom did exactly what I suggested. A bowl of catfish stew awaits on the kitchen table along with a pan-seared bass. This is what I meant by a perfect lunch. Even Alan forgets he already had lunch. Quite often we rely on canned sustenance during this hour, or if mom feels a bit productive, she collects greens from the garden and turns them into some sort of salad or slaw. Anything that a rabbit would enjoy.

We finish the feast with empty plates. Mom was so full she needed to take a break against the couch before washing the dishes.

"Go get ready now." I look at Jody. "And prepare the buckets."

I excavate my room for a new shirt, to replace what I wore that's already sunken by the morning heat and sweats. And I transform my hair into a slightly messy bun.

My face is drier than the sand I leaped on at the stream so I cup my hands beneath the faucet and, I toss the freezing water on my face. In the mirror, I see my eyes reflect the color of hazel, and my skin is as pale as the winter's snow. Just like Jody's. Often, mirrors tell me more about myself than people do, or at least I trust them more.

I grabbed my shoes while rushing downstairs, and noticed Jody and Alan readying near the door's mouth. It's like the time when we were fifteen while my sister Jody was thirteen when we took her into the woods for the first time. Alan hadn't discovered his knife-throwing skills yet, and I hadn't known about snares and fishing rods either.

Back then, we usually just tried to enjoy the soft breeze while we swung ourselves into a tree, and collected dried-up wood to bring home for the fire. It was just a little over a year after when we caught an extreme interest in killing fish and birds for food and cash. Since then, the childhood we once had has never been the same. From visiting the woods for fun turns into a hunting place for the sake of sustenance and cash.

"We must go check the snares after this," I remind Alan and Jody.

We wouldn't want wild dogs or snakes stealing our catch. Predators and venomous snakes might probably be one of the reasons why there are not a lot of hunters roaming the woods. Perhaps we are the brave ones left, I guess.

We decided to leave the bicycle behind since there was not enough room for Jody. The three of us trudge in the street with the noon sunlight attacking our heads. Unlike the wilderness, there are not enough trees in the town itself to protect the people from the blazing heat of the sun. We don't complain much when we're in the woods.

The market is somewhere in the southern part of Winston, where people seek to buy supplies such as spices, meat, and other essential products. In the town itself, there are barely even footsteps to be heard. It is so dead silent, it seems every day is always evening. To see a lot of people means having to go to the market.

It is a longer hike than the woods, but if we sprint, it's about the same. The Market is the only place in town to see an assortment of everything. Some sellers vend garments, equipment, meat, and even services. Mom goes there for purchases while Jody and I manage deals for our sales with the fish and birds. The only time Jody and I, invested from the market was when we picked up the strings for the snares and the rods for fishing. Both we considered assets.

"We must go check the snares after this," I remind Alan and Jody.

We wouldn't want wild dogs or snakes stealing our catch. Some say that an unknown creature owns the entirety of this place through the darkness, which might be the reason why most of the hunters disappear. If it were true then Alan, Jody, and I are somehow stubborn, or perhaps we would be thankful for those scary stories that keep our business going.

In town, we might be one of the rarest locals to provide fresh native meats. Some of the farmers would be jealous since we don't have to feed and grow our products for money. Nature hands it to us for free.

As soon as we arrive, the

intense smell of spices traveling through fine air welcomes us first. Numerous Footsteps, chattering and yelling make this place notoriously blaring.

"Now what?" Alan shouts.

I look over the crowd to find Harold. A middle-aged bearded man who bought our catch last time. "Follow me," I say.

We jam ourselves through the claustrophobic crowd till we get to Harold.

"Harold!" I yell as loud as I can.

Harold looks back and raises both of his arms. "Ah, Alex! What is it?"

"I was hoping you're still interested in our fish and bird meat," I say.

"Of course, Alex." He smiles, "Just don't bring it here later than six."