Getting down off the hood, I collected the canteen then climbed into the car and started the engine. I drove the hundred and fifty yards to where Harv... lay crying and holding his leg.I stopped the car about ten yards away from him and got out. I left the rifle inside, but brought along the long thin fishing knife I'd purchased at the sporting goods store yesterday, as well as the tent pegs, small camping hatchet and fifty yards of clothesline."Harve, you are going to talk to me. You will answer. A few more.“Look,” she said, mustering up bravery she didn’t know she had. Holding out her arms. Bearing it all. “I am damaged goods, alright? I was fucked up after my divorce. I’m mean, I’m judgemental, I distrustful--and--I never should have said that shit to you.”“You’re right. That was pretty fucked up.”She winced. His acknowledgment burned.“But…” he said, looking down at the dog tag on his chest. “I shouldn’t have said that shit to you either.”The pain subsided. How could he be so. More

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