Shot Down Read Free

The distances away steadied for a while—they were walking a straight line through the trees toward the body, not curving around the top of the overhang. They’d miss us, more than likely.
    The man spoke up again.
    â€œKyle, I want you to wait here with your pop-pop. Past that ledge, the hill can get steep. You can hold the rifle if you like.”
    â€œBut Dad, I wanna help you find the kill!”
    â€œThat’s why we bring these guys, remember?” the man said. “This is when we release the hounds.”

CHAPTER FOUR
    T
    he Captain gripped my shoulder. His paw of a hand twitched.
    â€œAh jeez, Malik,” he said, “they’re manhunters!”
    A howl came over our heads from somewhere deeper in the hillside woods. The dogs were loose.
    â€œBloodhounds, I’d bet, or something like ’em. Trackers. Let’s hope they stay on that other poor guy’s scent.”
    â€œDo we run?” I whispered.
    The Captain bit his lip and thought.
    â€œI dunno,” he said. “No. Even if the dogs miss us, we’re close enough that those men might spot us. We stay.”
    The hounds scampered in the distance toward the running man’s body. I heard light leaps, from maybe two of them, mostly in my left ear and then mostly in my right. The Captain rested the back of his head against the rock wall and sighed heavily.
    Then the leaping stopped. Somewhere above the overhang, the dogs slowed to a walk. Quick, scattered steps sounded against the ground. I began to hear them wheeze and snort—sniffing out something new. From closer and closer to us.
    â€œDad!” the young boy called out. “Why did Maybelle stop?”
    The older man hesitated before answering.
    â€œShe and Maggie might have caught a different scent.” He paused again. “Kyle, you and Pop-Pop stay here.”
    At what sounded like the edge of the overhang, one of the hounds stopped, sniffed furiously, and let loose a long howl. One level below the dog, the Captain and I looked to each other. We traded uneasy nods. Then we ran.
    We started downward, the rock overhang maybe keeping us out of sight ’til we were out of shooting range. I pulled my backpack onto my shoulders as I stumbled between rocks and logs. The Captain and I had needed the length of an afternoon to make it up the steep hillside. I wondered how long the dogs would continue to give chase.
    With a patch of grass in front of me, I glanced back to see a second hound join the first atop the overhang. The two animals had mangy brown coats. They looked long and lean. They stared at me and the Captain and gave sharp barks, then skittered down either side of the overhang.
    The more I ran, the harder it was to know how far the Captain and I had gone. I saw tree after tree after tree when I looked up, a blur of dirt patches and loose stones when I looked down. My soreness hadn’t left, and my legs burned with each step. Another glance back showed the hounds rushing between trees—well below the overhang. Above them, on the rocky edge, was a small figure—the father of the boy?—staring down, standing stiffly. He had yellow hair and green and brown clothes. He didn’t look to be following the dogs down. Just watching.
    â€œAagh! Huffff—”
    A few lengths in front of me, the Captain had tripped across a stone that stuck out at an angle from the ground. He landed on his side and rolled forward, trying to regain his footing.
    â€œAh! Burner! The burner!” he said as the lump inside the balloon’s envelope dragged along the ground, tied to the Captain’s overcoat at his shoulder.
    I grabbed his collar as I passed and yanked up, not stopping. My arm jerked straight and my feet kicked in the air as I lost the grass underneath them. My hip hit the ground first with a dull thud. The Captain righted himself and stuck out a hand.
    â€œNot yer fault,” he said. “We’re in different weight