The Black Russian.
Thunder rumbled close by. Wind was picking up now, light rain beginning to fall. Unusually warm weather for Northern Ontario in late October.
The old pick-up slid to a halt in front of the paddock gate, worn tires pushing gravel as the brakes
locked up. The small, old barn was in contrast to the newer buildings behind it.
Seth James got out unsteadily. “Shut up you fleabag!” he yelled at the barking German Shepherd
chained close to the bungalow 200 yards away. He knew the owner would be away until tomorrow.
He reached back into the cab and picked up his small bottle of whiskey from the front seat. He walked
towards the barn, breathing heavily. “Have to lose some weight” he muttered to himself.
He paused and took a swig from the bottle, gasping as the whiskey went down. He shook his head and
put the bottle in his coverall pocket. At 72 years and close to 250 lbs he was feeling his age
He rubbed his grizzled chin and opened the paddock gate and walked the few yards towards
the barn. Unlocked as always. Pushing the door open he went inside and flicked on the lights. He let
the barn door swing in the wind. 'Stinking place' he muttered.
Thunder was much closer now, rain getting heavier. Seth adjusted his eyes. The fly crap and
cobwebs dimmed the light from the bulbs somewhat. He peered down the small barn and grunted in
satisfaction. The bales of straw at the other end of the barn looked undisturbed. He walked towards
them glancing at the wild boars in the pens. Mostly sows. They were at the back of the pens, ears erect,
sensing danger. The last pen held the black Russian boar. Large at 400lbs and standing 4 feet high at
his leather like thick shoulders. “Black bastard” Seth said aloud.. The boar recognized the voice and
moved to the rear of the pen, 12 inch tusks gleaming, chomping a little in fear. Foam
forming around his mouth. Seth turned to the straw bales and moved them aside. Right at the back he
found what he was looking for. The large Zip Loc bag was filled with marijuana buds.
He put the bag in his coveralls. Turning to go he paused then picked up a long handled pitchfork.
He leaned over the pen wall and jabbed at the boar with it.. The tines did not penetrate the tough
shoulder skin very far. The boar moved away, chomping again. Seth paused and put a cigaret in his
mouth. He was in the act of lighting it when a flash of lightning hit one of the tall firs beside the barn.
Startled he dropped the old Zippo lighter inside the boar pen. The straw bedding caught fire right away.
Cursing he hurried down the passage way towards the open door. Seconds later the lightning struck fir
came crashing down on the barn roof collapsing it. The ceiling gave way sending the straw bales in the
loft down in to the pens. The animals were screaming in panic as the flames quickly spread. Seth was
trying to run, impeded by straw bales.
The wild boar jumped the pen wall as did most of the other animals. Fight or flight mode. Seth was at the door now and glanced behind. The wild boar was bearing down on him, tusks gleaming his head swinging side to side. Seth screamed in fear then in pain as one of the boars tusks sliced in to his thigh as it rushed past. Blood spurted. He got to the door then the paddock gate. His leg gave way and he went down on to the gravel. The boars went to the right, through the paddock, through the opening in the electric fence and in to the forest.
Seth got up and opened the door of his truck and pulled himself in. Sweating profusely, grimacing in pain he got in and fired up. He jammed it in drive and swung the wheel around accelerating out of thedriveway. He hit the main gravel road and almost lost control. The rain was almost blinding it was soheavy. Turning West he glanced at his leg seeing the blood oozing out.. 'Tourniquet' he thought. 'No doctor for 20 miles'. He fought to keep the truck on the wet gravel.
He put his hand down and felt inside the rip in his coveralls. The gash was deep and bleeding profusely. “Shit!” he said. He grabbed an old newspaper and began to wad it up with his right hand, his left trying to keep the truck on the road. He slowed down and managed to get the wadded paper over the wound. He took the bottle out of his pocket and took a swig. “Much better! Lets see how fast this old bugger will go!” 5 miles further on he could feel the wadded newspaper was getting saturated and he was feeling dizzy. Panicking he pushed the accelerator harder fighting the steering wheel to keep the truck in the middle of the road. The rain was still heavy, the wiper blades unable to keep up.
“Oh shit!” Seth yelled as squinted through the windshield at the tree laying across the road. He hit the brakes as hard as he could. He was carrying too much speed. The truck hit the tree at 40 mph and went up in the air and rolled over. It came down upside down onto the gravel road and the cab crumpled on impact. Seth died almost instantly.
