Free Pennsylvania Omnibus by Michael Bunker

the shoulders.  Together they shuffle-carried the
dead man toward the rear of the store and into a darkened office near the back
door.
    As they hefted Donavan onto a dusty desk, a deep rumble
shook the building, followed by a thunderous roar that caused Jed and Dawn to
look at one another with unvoiced concern.  A tear rolled unchecked down Dawn’s
face.
    The rumble gradually died away into the distance, and Dawn
looked upward, blinking through the moisture in her eyes, as if to check to see
if the roof was going to cave in on them.  When it didn’t, she looked back at
Jed.
    Jed and Dawn stared deeply into one another’s eyes, and
for the first time he saw that she was not entirely the cool and dispassionate
professional that she’d appeared to have been the entire time he’d known her. 
She wiped away the wetness from her cheek as she studied Jed’s face for
answers.
    He had none.
    Murder.  Violence.  War.  These were things that were
usually outside of his world, separate from his realm of experience.  Death in
the Amish world was structured, ordered, systematic.  Even when an unexpected
accident took the lives of the young—maybe a buggy overturned, or a boy fell
under a plow—there was a system to things.  Everyone was on the same side, and
all played their parts.  Death was considered a stage of life, and it was
integrated into the system in a way that left no room for confusion or
doubt.
    But this—people being gunned down in the streets—was a
foreign concept to Jed.  Implements of war loosed in the streets of cities,
mindless tools of despotic governments seeking flesh to destroy.  And for
what?  How could a young man like Jed understand the devilish and covetous
motivations that could bring about such a way of living?
    It didn’t seem to Jed that Donavan had been a bad man. 
Donavan was just a Transport official who wanted out .  Jed had to
wonder… isn’t out a primal desire?  Isn’t out a destination found
in the heart of every man and woman?
    When Pook and Jerry returned from stowing the body, the
four of them stood wordlessly for a while, as if the moment transcended words
and demanded silent recognition of the Transport man’s sacrifice.  As they
stood in gauzy silence, Jed could hear a breeze bend its way around the
building, on its journey from somewhere to eternity.  The building creaked and
whispered its age, and Jed identified the very faint pop, pop, pop of
the lanterns sucking oxygen through their flames.
    After an appropriately solemn period of respectful
silence, Jerry turned to Pook and tapped him lightly on the arm.
    “So what’s this about making guns?” he asked.
    “We’ll have to go down to the basement.”
    “Lead the way.”
    Dawn and Jed stayed behind for a moment longer, and when
the others were gone, Dawn’s hand came up to her mouth.
    Jed noticed a slight tremor in the hand, and that small
involuntary expression communicated to him her fear and sorrow.  He didn’t know
what to do, but he felt that he should do something , anything—so he did
what he would have done for Amos, or even for his mother if they were upset. 
He put his arms around Dawn and drew her close to him in an embrace.  He didn’t
second-guess his reasons for reaching out to Dawn, and she seemed to
immediately submit to what the moment required.
    As if the act of Jed embracing her gave her permission to
release a pent-up torrent of emotion, Dawn collapsed into him, squeezing him
tightly, and a loud sob escaped from her as the tears flowed freely.
    “Thank you, Jed.”
    “No.  Thank you for getting me out of that place, Dawn,
and for watching over me on this trip.”
    “It was…” She paused a few beats.  “It is my
job.”
    Jed moved to pull away from her, his mind reeling at
everything that had transpired since he’d left Old Pennsylvania on this
journey.
    “Your job?” he asked.
    Dawn grabbed him as he pulled away, and pulled him back
into her arms.
    “Yes,” she