Complete the short story/flash fiction, that has the following opening:
Billy Bob sat in the truck, cleaning the gun that had only recently been fired. He breathed in the smell of gunpowder, feeling a part of him harden in response. He continued cleaning the barrel of the gun, unclean images flitting in and out of his mind before movement in the periphery of his vision made him freeze.
His quarry was moving slowly through the brush, pausing frequently to sniff at the air, but he had picked his spot well. The sound of the rushing water nearby masked many of his small sounds and the smell of fresh water from the lake covered up many odors, like that of gunpowder, that may have lingered in the air.
Slowly he raised the rifle, using the scope to find and focus on the target as it slowly approached the lake. Looking quickly left and right his quarry approached the lake slowly, making as little sound as possible. His grip tightened on the gun and he started to slow his breathing down, controlling his breaths. As his quarry stopped and bent down to drink from the lake he slowly starting to squeeze the trigger, getting ready to put the final squeeze on the trigger.
Just as he squeezed the trigger he heard a noise to his left and his quarry moved. He thought he hit it but wasn’t sure. He looked up to see his brother come stumbling through the words, gun raised, looking for something, anything to shoot.
“Calm down, Jimmy,” he said, “calm down. You’ve spooked her off and now we need to find her again.”
Jimmy lowered his rifle as he realized it was his brother talking to him. A look of shame fell across his face as he realized what he had just done. “Sorry, Billy, I didn’t see you there, I thought …”
“Of course you didn’t see me there, that’s the whole point of hiding.” He shook his head in disgust. His brother was not cut out for hunting. Not like him. Not like their daddy. Jimmy was too soft, he needed to develop some balls to be a good hunter. “Let’s see if there’s any blood.”
Billy moved away from the blind and Jimmy followed, both of them with their guns held warily as if their quarry would attack. Billy knelt down by where the quarry had been when he shot and examined the wet dirt and the tracks. There were blood spatters on the ground and he smiled. “Got ya,” he whispered.
“I tagged her Jimmy, she’s going to be easier to find.”
“Even easier now, Billy,” his brother said holding up a shoe. “She’s only got one shoe so her feet should be bleeding soon. I give her ten minutes, maybe fifteen before we find her.”
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