November 27, 2008
The first thing I hear is the grass swishing as it is moved out of the way. Then I hear the thud of footfalls. "Jack?" I call out weakly. "It's me," he says. "Are you okay?" "No," I answer. "I'm shot." "Hell," he says. "The shooting's over. They're working the dogs. There's a bird down," he says. "Why?" is all I can think of to say. "Goddamn fools!" he says as he comes into sight at my right elbow. I am pressed to the ground like it is my mother. "You can relax now," he says. "Where you hit?"