Free Almost Kings by Max Doty

we pulled over to the side of the road and got out of the Ford. We were in the middle of nowhere—nothing but dusty pines in either direction, not so much as a footpath leading into the forest.
    “You sure this is the place?” asked Reggie.
    “Hell yes,” said Hass. “Follow me.”
    Hass led us through the trees. The ground was uneven and covered in a thick layer of dry needles, so that we kept slipping as we followed. The light filtered down unevenly through the branches, forcing my eyes to adjust in and out of darkness.
    “Middle of fucking nowhere,” Reggie complained, slipping again. “Don’t they got trails out here?”
    “You can barely walk on the sidewalk, Chubs,” said Wood, and the rest of us laughed. The guys had stripped down to tank tops and I realized for the first time that everyone but Reggie had the crown brand. 
    After a few more minutes of walking, the trees began to thin and we entered a bright field full of tall green stalks that came up to my chest. The guys walked up to the plants and breathed in deeply, suddenly giggly as schoolgirls.
    “Holy shit,” said Reggie. “These are fucking huge.”
    “Exactly,” said Hass. “I’m sure whoever’s growing them won’t miss a couple of ounces.”
    He pulled a couple of big plastic bags out from the pocket of his jeans, handed me one, and started pulling buds off the plants.
    “You might want to hurry up,” he said. “The guys growing this shit might not take too kindly to us stealing their goodies.”
    My heart raced even as I started filling my bags with buds. I didn’t have to ask what we were taking. We picked frantically, and my fingers stung. Everyone was quiet, as if worried our voices might give us away.
    A shot rang out.
    “Fuck,” said Hass. “Fuck.”
    He started running back the way we’d come, out through the forest, scrambling on the dry needles. Reggie and my brother followed. I dropped my bag and took off after them.
    Another shot rang out, and Truck went down, clutching his thigh.
    “Damn it,” he shouted. “God damn it.”
    The guys looked back but kept running. I caught up to Truck and knelt down.
    “Get up,” I said. “Come on.” He wouldn’t take his hands off of his thigh, and I tried to pull him up, but he was too heavy. “Now. Get up!”
    Another shot echoed through the trees. I pulled at Truck’s shoulders.
    “Jesus,” I said. “Get up!”
    And then he started laughing. I turned around to see Wood holding a rifle pointed up in the air, a huge smile on his face. Reggie and Hass were jogging back toward us, whooping and laughing as they approached.
    “You saved me little bro,” said Truck, getting to his feet and revealing a wound-free leg.
    “Fuck you guys,” I said. “Seriously.”
    “Aw, come on Bug,” said Hass. “You did good. Now come on. Let’s finish grabbing a few more handfuls before the guys who run this place come back for real.”
    My brother brushed pine needles off of his back and put a hand on my shoulder.
    “Seriously,” he said. “You did good.”
     
    An hour later, we sat on the back of the Ford and watched the sun play against a lake as we passed my brother’s pipe up and down the line. The guys talked about their latest scores, and how Miller was a bitch and always had been one and how they were pretty sure he was going to ask for points for bagging some freshman dudes.
    My brother had an arm around my shoulders and said, “Listen to this song. Listen to this song!” I was high as hell, and for the first time, Linkin Park actually sounded good. I picked out the bass, then guitar, then drums, able to listen to only one instrument at a time, as if a whole song was too much to hold in my mind all at once.
    The lake in front of us went on forever, but the world seemed no bigger than the five of us, sitting in the sun, surrounded by evergreens, as if it was still summer and it always would be.
    I didn’t think of Kallea then, though I would later, when the high wore