HUNTER

Smell of cheap hotel soap, warm wind on his face, thoughts of the half brother he had never met. A father with a secret, and a past Hunter never knew about. He wondered what else he might never know.

They had been on the road all morning, rolling under glorious blue skies. Thoughts came and went, drifting comfortably, flowing from one to the next. Time and the road were similar. They passed by, no matter what. Houses were set in far from the road. Metal roofs. Pole barns. Livestock. Flat land in a pastoral panorama that stretched as far as the eye could see. He thought back to when he was a kid. Hank gone all week, Hunter staying with his grandfather. He’d been an infantryman in the marines. Held his own in World War II and the Korean War. Granddad had been a man of the land, of God and country. A real patriot. He checked the tags of his clothes to make sure they were made in America. If not, you’d best return them, or he’d take them out to the rusted old fire barrel, douse them with gas, and light a match. It was an old way of thinking that started the day after Pearl Harbor. In today’s economy, the poor guy wouldn’t have anything to wear. Such prejudice seemed quaint now. Today, prejudice was more about sides telling you what to believe, then ridiculing you for not following their choice. All this in a country where thought was supposed to be free. In Hunter’s mind, the only thing that carried weight was truth.

The endless ribbon of road kept coming, and so did Hunter’s train of thought. Remembering the years as his body and mind grew. And as his grandfather’s began to fail. When the sickness came, Hank was forced to stay closer to home. Hank was good with money. Kept a nest egg and small investments. There were days when they took his grandfather for walks on the property he owned—well over a hundred acres. He was still sharp on the past, clearly recalling events and situations and people. Hunting and training hound dogs. Gardening. Grilling. A long and happy marriage. Kindness to others. Raising Hank. But seeing Hank and Hunter side by side in the same room, his grandfather got confused. Wondering why there were two Hanks, one aged and one young. Two versions of his son.

Hunter could only imagine what his grandfather would have done seeing all three of them—Hank, Hunter, and Blake—together in the same room.

When the dementia consumed his brain, he came apart quickly. His mind left and his body followed.