The Hunter (3)

Jordan had been fascinated by guns since his first plastic gun with those caps that made it go bang. He loved the feeling of the fake weapon in his hand and loved imagining shooting all and sundry. As a child, Jordan had badgered his mum relentlessly to let him have shooting lessons. It was unfair he'd complained, Jake his brother went to rugby and Janie his sister went to piano lessons but his parents wouldn’t let him follow his passion. Eventually they caved in and arranged for Jordan to go to the shooting range. There Jordan was a natural, he was sure and steady, perfect eye hand coordination.

But Jordan was a sensible lad He loved guns but because he loved them he also respected them. He knew the damage they caused. He knew the power they had. And for that reason he never played with them away from the range. He learnt all about them; how to dismantle them, clean them, reassemble them, how they worked, how they ticked, but he never abused their power. He longed to become a forensic ballistics expert and was working his way through University to get there.

Of course if you love guns, then somewhere deep down inside, there is the urge to use them for their original purpose. Shooting holes in targets was all very well, but guns were weapons of destruction, designed to maim and kill. Jordan had managed to suppressed this urge but he knew it was there. He wanted to shoot a living thing, feel what it was like to use a gun for real. Would he be such a sure shot when the pressure was on? He wanted to find out.  So when he was asked by one of his posh mates at uni if he wanted to go on a deer hunt, he jumped at the chance. He was ready.  

So here he was, deep in a forest, dressed in camouflage, holding a rifle up to his eye. There was silence, if other hunters were near, then he couldn’t hear them. He was in the zone, his hand steady and his finger strong on the trigger. There was a deer in his sights and he was about to make his first kill. He took one more deep breath and tensed the muscles in his finger. The deer stumbled and dropped to the floor and Jordan followed suit. He staggered forward and fell to his knees, retching as he did so and dropping the gun in disgust. Tears flooded down his face. What had he done? He looked in the direction of where the once proud beast had stood. Mindless, pointless, destruction. He’d abused the power that he’d promised himself he would always respect. He let the tears flow freely.

For Jordan that split second changed his life. That flex of a finger changed his mind about all that he held dear. As he stared at the ground, trying to catch his breath a big question flashed in his mind. Did he really want to work with things that could cause such wanton destruction every day of his life? He looked at the evil weapon on the ground in front of him. He knew he never wanted to fire one again but could he really turn his back on his life’s passion?