Page 43 of Red Rooster

A gust of wind sent loose dirt and handfuls of dry grass scuttling across the road between them. Carried with it the faint, but unmistakable lowing of cows from somewhere out of sight.

“What branch were you with?” the man asked.

Rooster blinked. “What?” he asked through his teeth.

The man shrugged without moving his hands from his head. “I’m just saying. A civilian breaks down in the middle of nowhere and a truck pulls up, his first reaction is usually to say, ‘Thank God.’ Not to pull a gun on somebody.”

Rooster flashed his teeth in an approximation of a smile. “And all vets are crazy, huh?”

“No. Necessarily cautious, I’d say.”

Rooster studied him a moment, waiting for the inevitable wince, for the begging, the show of nerves.

It never came.

Gun still trained, he walked toward the guy, swung wide, got behind him. “Don’t move.”

“Wasn’t going to.”

A quick glance in the truck proved that it was nothing special: battered vinyl seats, some crumpled McDonald’s wrappers, a water bottle and a Coke in the cup holders. Rooster checked the near door pockets for weapons and found none.

“You didn’t answer the question,” the guy on the ground said.

“You’re so smart, why don’t you guess?” Rooster said as he did a quick, one-handed pat down of the man. No weapons there, either.

“Alright,” he said. “I’m gonna say Marine Corps.”

“Yeah? What about you?” Rooster circled around in front of him again. “National Guard?” he asked with contempt.

The man tipped his head back so he could maintain eye contact. “Army,” he said, unabashed.

Rooster snorted.

“I’m Jake,” he offered. “There’s a garage twelve miles up the road that can take a look at your truck, and I’ll be happy to take it there for you.”

“Why?”

“It’ll be my way of saying thanks. That’s some hell of a trick your girl’s got.”

And there it was: the real reason for this unasked-for kindness.

Rooster lifted his gun a fraction, so the muzzle was aimed at the guy’s face, finger sliding inside the trigger guard. He felt a grim smile tug at this mouth. This just got soold. The same shit, over and over. “I give you credit: you played the game longer than most of them ever do.”

Jake – if that was even his name – looked scared for the first time now, eyes wide and white-rimmed. His mouth opened on a small, gasping breath. “Now wait, just wait, I don’t know–”

A truck door slammed behind him, and Red said, “Rooster,don’t.”

No. No, no, no, no–

Jake’s gaze flicked away from the gun, toward Red.

“Don’t look at her,” Rooster said through his teeth. To Red: “Get back in the truck.Now.”

She didn’t listen. Of course she didn’t. Her boots scuffed quietly over the short grass as she walked toward them. “You can’t shoot him,” she said, reasonably. “He–”

Rooster flung out his left arm and blocked her from coming nearer. “I swear to God, if you don’tget back in the truck–”

“There were witnesses,” she said. “All those people back at the diner saw us and saw him. Saw what I did. If they find him dead on the road–”