Dedicated to
Prologue
Houston and Linda sat together on a seat, looking out on the lush and greenness of the bush, from their small rangers hut. Only them, all alone, in the middle of the bush, and it was perfect.
The sky slowly fades into nothing, not before it creates a beautiful lightshow across the atmosphere. Everything seemed perfect in their lives, they were a happy couple living in the middle of the Bush and they were inseparable. A the days droned on, their hairs greyed, so did the bush they had come to love, squeals of feral pigs tearing up their trees, and the rascally sounds of young kids in the brush wore on it.
The sound of pigs; the sound Houston would be soon to hate.
CHAPTER 1, the life of a bush ranger:
Houston sits in the bush, mud caking his rubber boots after a long day of work.
“Too many kids muckin’ up my bush, I need to get the council to pay me more” he says to himself, knowing that nothing will change.
He fiddles with his dog, Bazza’s, ear. They get up, walking back home, legs aching, and eyes stinging. He begins to weep as he remembers his wife who gave him his dog, his only remaining friend. Sorrow turns to rage as he recalls his family and friends not reaching out to him, not caring and leaving him for dead by himself. Alone.
In a fit of rage, he squeezes Bazza’s ear, frightening him, and causing him to run away. Houston cries out to him, and as shouts turn to whispers, he gives up, figuring that Bazza will run back to him. As the sun fades beyond the horizon and the sky blackens, Houston eats alone, crying to himself as the bacon slowly disappears from his plate. He goes to bed early, weeping silently in bed.
CHAPTER 2, Bloody water:
As Houston wakes up, he runs to check on his cherished companion, Bazza, feeling guilty for not going out to search for him. Amid this, the stormy night echoes with vigorous claps of thunder as the lightning violently crashes down from the misty, overcast sky. The storm rages more and more as the night advances. He scurries out to the yard, neglecting how drenched he is bound to turn out from the night’s drizzle.
Amid the night’s downpour, he noticed a glistening red in the corner of his eye. Blood was his immediate thought as he rushed towards the trail left behind Bazza. He rapidly followed the track, painted red. The trail of blood had finally come to an end, and at that end lay Bazza.
Tears began to fill Houston’s eyes, clouding his vision, reducing it to the size of a pinhole, his heart felt like it was beating out of his throat as he was brought to his knees in misery. The screams and shrieks were loud enough to shatter glass and as painful as a machete to the heart.
His one and only friend bleeding out on the hard gravel road. He stood there for a minute, comprehending this heartbreaking loss, trying to comprehend what was before him.
Houston loved Bazza and seeing him in such agonizing pain was something he couldn’t do. He raised his shotgun and loaded it, it felt cold in his grip, he didn’t want to have to do it but he knew he had to, he aimed his gun, tears becoming inseparable from the rain as he pulled the trigger to alleviate Bazza’s pain.
His beloved dog, perishing before his very own eyes.
Chapter 3, Remember:
Houston remembers stroking his dogs ear, the sun bathing the scene in warm light. His feet were resting on the gentle ground, the trees gently glowing blue.
Linda was sitting beside him, her wonderful dress accenting the lovely brush behind her. She looked young, younger than he remembered.
Houston was walking softly back home, Linda still by his side, and Bazza, still a pup, in his arms.
He put Bazza down, and suddenly the world shifts, and he is again looking at the limp body of his beloved dog on his balcony. Hot blood on his hands, and around his feet, soaking into the damp ground, and leaching into the rain pools.
Tears well up inside his eyes, “Where did I go so wrong!” Houston shouts into the empty space “what did I do!” he screams, his voice quivering with cold, and the dread of being alone.
CHAPTER 4, A blind rage:
‘The dog, Linda...’ Tears start to well up at the thought of her. She passed away the year before, from an illness that they hadn’t got on top of quick enough. She had meant everything to him and Bazza was her gift to him to remember her by, he has lost her, and now Bazza. He is sitting, looking over his dog, reminiscing about his wife, the only friend he had ever had.
Seeing a dark figure standing watching him, still yet to think of a plausible explanation for this murder, he cried before looking up to the dark forest ahead.
“Who are you?!” into the void “Why would you do this, how could you do this and start this monstrosity?!”
No response. Suddenly, the figure bolted back to the brush.
Enveloped in anger, and grief he blindly stumbled forward, shouting after his dog’s murderer. Faces mould around him filling the spaces taken by trees and bushes, every turn a new figure appearing, the sound of his dogs’ whimpers haunt him as bodies and faces roam freely around his vision, tainted by the loss of Bazza. He spots a lone silhouette amongst the bush, bent over on the ground, kneeling over the tail of Bazza. He quickens his pace, and the shadows unravelled to reveal the body of a wild boar.
He whispers in terror, “A boar…” before running back to his shack. The sound of screeching echoing over the valley, overpowering every thought, and feeling, and replacing it with fear. Fear
is a powerful emotion; it has the power to trigger fight or flight and, in this case, Houston chose fight as he made a beeline for the rusty old shed in his backyard. The squeak of the opening door gave him the shivers.
CHAPTER 5, he begins the trek:
Houston’s mind is still blinded with bitterness and rage as he prepares for his expedition. He strenuously grips his rifle, the cold touch reminding him of the bullet passing through the head of Bazza’s murderer. He grabs his ammunition, his flashlight and most importantly, his foldable hunting knife. It screeches as the blade unfolds.
He confirms he’s got everything, checks nothing’s broken and marches out the door, feeling a sense of power and readiness to execute his job. Houston treks through the brush, his mind dull with the blunt edge of anger and vengeance.
The cold hollow whimpers of Bazza echoing throughout his mind like a crow's call on a bitter August night. He could feel the stiff timber of his gun run down the inside of his hand, infiltrating every thought, overcoming him with rage, and a thirst for blood.
Houston follows the blood-stained trail, mud biting at his worn ankles. Jagged rocks twist and twine throughout the path making the journey an utmost battle. Vivid images of the silhouette from the night before play throughout his mind in an endless loop. Houston looks down into a muddied and bloodied puddle, the image of his dog’s limp, lifeless body repeating in his head.
Rage, which continues to undermine any rational train of thought he had. Houston begins following the trail of the murderer, each step getting closer and closer to the one who did this. The crack of a branch takes Houston out of his trance. Makes him gaze to his left where there it is, the boar.
He raises his rifle with his trembling hands, pulls back the lever and squeezed the trigger. A near miss, freaks the boar, it squeals and charges at him. Houston blocks its tusks with his rifle, before darting to the right, barely clipping his shoulder on the point. As Housten pulls away, he yanks out his pocketknife, and with less than a millisecond to spare, he stabs the boar in its butt. Not enough to kill, but enough to scare.
‘It’ll buy me time’ he thought, disappointed at having lost his chances. Determined to avenge Bazza, he adopts a bitter calm, an edge of grief, but also dexterity to every thought and movement.
CHAPTER 6, a new perspective:
He contemplates, why was he so bitter? Why didn’t he take Linda to the doctors sooner? Why didn’t he let Bazza back inside? Why was he always too late, and why, was it always his fault?
He thinks of Linda, her positive, vivacious personality filling his mind. Tears start to form and roll down his cheeks from the unbearable pain, but he knows he must stay strong, to avenge Bazza and to finally try to release the grief.
Houston’s hunger clings to his stomach, slowing his every move, fatigue slowing him further, exhausting him, he moves sluggishly through the wet, oozing bush. Leeches clinging to his arms and legs, blood crawling down his skin. Housten trips and falls, a chasm opening up over a river in front of him.
Houston leaps over the ridge, barely landing on his feet. At having to exhaust his last amount of energy, hunger overcomes him, and he lies on the gravel bed of the river, clutching anything that floats his way, hours pass, the water rising and falling over him. As the morning sun wakes him up, he takes out his bayonet and spears one of the passing fish, the knife easily ripping through scale, flesh, and bone. He makes a quick campfire from dry pieces of stray wood. After a quick dinner, he sets off again, hearing the cold screeching sounds of the boar in the distance, closer.
Chapter 7, He presses on:
Suspense is building inside of Houston, he senses the boar around him, taunting him with its squeals, and tempting him when it dashes past his vision. He grows angrier, this pig isn’t playing fair. Cold mud squelches under his boots, three days of heavy rain has not been treating the bush well, drowned saplings drift down his path. Blood builds in his boots as leaches cling to his ankles, and the leaches of his mind, are no different. He only thinks about what is in front of him, the sound of Bazza’s whimpering repeating in his head, and a sense of desperation. His journey has been arduous, and the pride he feels at having made it this far is the only thing keeping him moving. His quiet hunt for his boar has turned him to insanity, he hears its squeals even when sleeping, and a recurring feeling its all around him, its sounds bouncing around the valley floor. Yet Houston presses on, through the muck, and grime.
As night passes, and the rain coats his world deeper in water, he hears the squealing right in front of him. A single squeak from that beast and he set off, knowing it was within his grasp.
CHAPTER 8, vengeance is a double-edged sword:
Cold wind and rain whipping at his clothes. He can hear the sharp squealing of the boar in the distance, seemingly coming from all sides, he can sense it's close to him now. Houston spots the boar again, it shrieks ever louder. Houston tells himself he is ready, that he is prepared, but nothing can stop the wave of terror that is washing over him.
It’s hard to judge the size of the boar from just the silhouette, he slowly creeps up on it, his heartbeat quickening with every step. Houston feels the blood rushing through him, loaded with adrenaline. He whips around the corner holding his shotgun, feeling it's cold metal in its grip. He sees the boar look up and stare at him, wild eyes roaming the darkness to find its foe. In a panic, Houston shoots the boar, the guns unforgiving might staggering him. Houston’s eyes widened and he frantically reloaded and shot again but it was too late, the boar's horns hit his side, sending him in a spiral onto the ground.
Blood, and mud mixing together in the wrestle. Houston fights to stay up, and manages to escape, before being pinned to a tree. The boars tusks on either of his sides, locking him in place against the bark. In the split second he has remaining, he loads his gun, before being dragged to the ground as the boar frees its tusks from the wood. Houston can smell the now stale blood of his dog still in its breath, now with a mixture of his own. He fires the gun, the bullet piercing the boars thick sweaty hide, and hitting the ground. In its last fleeting moments of life, it rears, and runs at him, Its cold, unbearable tusks rupturing his stomach, and passing through his spine. The boar goes still over Houston, crushing him with its unbearable weight. He closes his eyes and
opens them for one last look at the world. Houston sees Linda and Bazza slowly walking towards him, in his last moments he felt jubilance, and finally, since Linda died, he felt at peace.
Then he violently explodes under the weight of the boar.