After the Apocalypse
In case the Mayans are right...
STRATEGY: “My plan would be to get lost. All I would need is my bow and arrows and I’m good. I would head up the mountain and easily live off fruit (wild mangos, avos, guavas, etc.) and shoot meat to eat—cows, pigs, birds. Luckily living off the land is easy in Hawaii, whether near the ocean or in the mountains.”
LIKELY RESULT: As luck would have it, Dorian is already deep in the hills when the Apocalypse comes. He doesn’t even realize what’s happened until he spies the smoke and chaos on the coast below through his scope. Dorian retreats deeper into the interior, living off the bounty of the land for many months without having to extinguish a single human soul. Immersed in the hunt, Shane becomes lost in the ways of animals—their scents, their trails, their brooding, mystic ways.
Many moons pass. One cold morning, Dorian spies the largest boar he’s ever laid eyes on. He tracks it for eight days, too absorbed in the hunt to stop, even though he knows he’s ventured much closer to the coast than ever before. The old boar makes its way toward the old bunkers above the hill at Pupukea. Finally, Dorian sees his moment: a clean kill line as the boar pauses by a stream. He draws back his bow, and lets his arrow fly just as a shot rings out. The boar falls to the ground. It takes Dorian a second to process the sound of the bullet, and the fact that the bullet was meant for him.
Mark Healey shoulders his rifle and walks slowly toward the slumped body of his old friend. The dusk is warm and quiet. They lock eyes, silent as Dorian’s chest rises and falls a few final times. Healey’s expression does not change. He takes note of his beloved outer reefs, capping off in the distance. Night will come soon enough.