Shooting a bow at night wasn’t as hard as some people might think, but with the woods so thick around the campsite the one impediment Curtis has to work around was getting an open angle on the man he’d singled out before he was done peeing. Moving slowly was another issue since he didn’t want to spook the guy and ruin any shot. Thankfully it appeared that the guy had been holding it in for a while, and as Curtis found a position just beyond the light of the campfire, he sighted the man by his shape and started to pinpoint his shot by watching the light play off the stream, aiming his arrow up, and up, and up until he figured his target was on.
It helped even further that the man leaned back, exposing his throat as the faint moonlight from above exposed the white flesh of his throat, as though marking the target for Curtis. Keeping himself steady he drew his arrow back, feeling the creak of the bow even as he heard it. He was aware of the man frowning, perhaps he’d heard it as well, but Curtis’ arrow was off the string and in flight before he could lower his head. The razor-sharp head of the arrow dug deeply into the man throat, just above the Adam’s apple as it lanced all the way through, yanking the unfortunate individual backward as it thunked hard into the tree behind him.
The man continued to urinate as he quickly began to choke on the shaft that had become lodged in throat, as well as his own blood as it came spilling from the corners of his mouth. Curtis didn’t give him another thought as nocked another arrow and made his way forward, peering around the man to see that the other six individuals had heard nothing, seen nothing, and were currently engaged in various activities, such as playing cards, drinking, and in the case of one of them, lifting a leg as he aimed his ass at the fire. The resulting burst of flame that kissed his pants following the expulsion of gas caused him and the others to laugh, but the arrow that suddenly plugged his rectum made him howl loud enough to get the attention of every man there.
“My ass!” he cried, “My…my ass,” he collapsed even as Curtis was moving behind another tree, nocking another arrow as he heard one man cry out “What the fuck man?!!” He could hear the sound of the remaining five men reaching for rifles or rifling through their belongings to find their weapons. Curtis drew and fired at another of the men as he leaned around a tree on the periphery of the campsite, the arrow finding its mark in the man’s chest, hopefully sinking beyond the breastbone to the heart beneath. Curtis had been practicing for too long to miss at this point, but it was a challenge to fire, move, fire, move, and pinpoint each target in this manner.
He liked a challenge. Four to go.
(to be concluded)