Free Wounded by Percival Everett Page A

make this creepy. Maybe it’s the weather.”
    “Maybe,” I said.
    David and Robert came into view, turning onto the block.
    I pointed with my eyes. “There’s David.”
    Morgan turned to see. “Good-looking boys.”
    The men were huddled together, in only light sweaters against the cold. They had come in September expecting the summer warmth to persist the way it might in other places.
    “They must be freezing,” Morgan said.
    “I suspect so.”
    “Which one is David?”
    “On the right.”
    “Handsome,” she said.
    “Well, he’s attached,” I said. “What am I? Chopped liver?”
    “More or less.”
    “I don’t know which is more insulting,” I said. “More or less.”
    I stood and tried to catch David’s attention, but my wave went unnoticed. A couple of men rapidly approached David and Robert from the other side of the street. One was rangy with a shock of dark hair and the other was tall but stout. They wore jeans, boots, T-shirts, and no jackets. I observed David’s body stiffen and in the young man’s face, for the first time, I could really see Howard.
    “What’s going on?” Morgan asked.
    “I don’t know.” I had already started to move off in their direction, trying to run without running.
    “John?” Morgan was frightened.
    I could see but not hear the exchange of words. The rangy redneck pushed Robert, of a sudden, two open hands to the chest. Robert fell back a step or two and regained his balance.
    The deputy, Hanks, was there before me, inserting his wide body into the middle of the trouble. By the time I got there, Hanks was shooing the rednecks away, roughly. He had his hands in the middle of their backs and had pushed them halfway across the street.
    The man who had pushed Robert shouted out, “Faggot!” and Hanks gave him an extra shove that sent him to his knees. He got up, then loaded with his friend into a rusting, mid-seventies BMW.
    I asked Robert if he was all right.
    Hanks came loping back. “Sorry about that,” he said. It was a sincere apology, though it wasn’t clear whether he was apologizing for the actions of the thugs or for our village.
    “Yeah, right,” Robert said sarcastically. His face was still red.
    Hanks pulled away from us, then walked again toward the BMW. The wiry man put the car in gear and peeled away.
    “Pigs,” Morgan said.
    David put a hand on Robert’s shoulder, but he jerked back, twisting his body at the waist. Then he paced off, looked up at the sky and just screamed. Everyone up and down the street and in front of the Town Hall turned to the noise. Deputy Hanks’s back had been turned and the scream gave him a start. He pivoted to run back, but stopped. I waved the deputy off, letting him know that everything was under control.
    David approached Robert again, stepped behind him, and put a hand on his back. Robert didn’t pull away this time.
    “What kind of fucking place is this?” Robert asked. He shot a look at me. “Tell me.”
    I felt embarrassed.
    Just then, snow began to fall.
    I looked at the sky, flat and gray, and a flake landed on my face and melted. When I looked back at Robert I saw that his eyes were moist. I turned away, afraid to make him self-conscious by noticing. The townspeople, what few had come, began to leave their seats. Others who had laid out blankets, folded up and started to depart as well. They had all been willing to brave the cold, but the snow was too much. The news crew was quickly disassembling their equipment while the reporter sat in the passenger side of the satellite truck having an animated conversation on his cellular phone.
    “This doesn’t look good,” Morgan said.
    I wasn’t sure whether she was referring to the storm or the sudden and premature end to the rally. Whatever, I responded, “No, it doesn’t.” To David and Robert. “We’ve got to get you two something warmer to wear.”
    “We didn’t expect the weather to turn,” David said.
    “I’ve got extra jackets at my