An Incidental Reckoning Read Online Free
Author: Greg Walker
times, looked like nobody was home, so I found some rocks and went back. Smashed the windshield, the back window, and dropped the biggest one on top of the hood. I hope it broke something inside, but I don't know. Then I got out of there."
Jon absorbed this, couldn't deny a feeling of satisfaction at his friend's actions. And it wasn't murder. He figured Brody deserved at least what Will had done, probably still had more coming. But he had no desire to mete out punishment of his own. He still lived with the pain, but didn’t want to approach its source. Brody, a newly minted ex-con, surely hadn't learned anything, spending ten years in prison, a loser if there ever was one. But curiosity got the better of him and he asked, "So how did it feel? To strike back?"
Will turned to him, and Jon saw a haunted man.
"At first it felt great. I actually fibbed a bit before. I had intended to come to your place afterwards, figured we could have a small celebration. But by the time I got to Tanville, I just felt sick. Pathetic. It didn't change anything. Either that or it just wasn't enough. Maybe if I had walked up to the door and knocked, and then punched him in the face..."
"Will, I don't think that's a good idea."
"I know that. What gets me the most is that I don't even think I could do it. I'm too afraid. Almost forty years old, and I don't have the balls to stand up to him." Will's voice choked, and he turned away.
"If it helps, I don't think I could either."
"But why, Jon? How did it go on like that? How is it that no one saw what was happening to us, or if they did, why didn't they stop it? Do you think we were wrong? Not to fight back, or tell our parents or somebody?"
Jon starting reeling his line in again, a purely mechanical action now, his heart far removed from the act of fishing.
"I don't know. Stuff like that happens all of the time. Kids beaten or worse from their parents or some creepy uncle, and it just goes on. People don't want to know, sometimes, because then they have to do something about it. But we made it. And I don't see the use of questioning what can't be changed."
"But are we cowards, Jon? I've never been in a situation since then that could tell me otherwise, never been in another fight after all of that. I didn't run from anything, and I didn't look for trouble…but either way I never had a chance to find out. I sometimes think I should just find a guy on the street and pick a fight. See what happens."
Jon frowned. "What would it prove? We both have jobs, contribute something. You coach little league. And what did Brody do with his life? Sold drugs and spent ten years in prison. So he can beat people up. What does that amount to, in the end?"
Will brought in his line and picked off the lifeless, pale worm that had given its all and re-baited his hook. For a few minutes they focused on the fishing again, and on their own thoughts.
"You're right I guess. But it still bothers me. What if, for instance...someone came onto the field while we were practicing baseball? Threatened the kids. My son. What would I do? Could I stand up to the guy, or would I be too afraid?"
"I'm sure you'd do the right thing, if the kids were in danger."
"I wish I could say for sure. But what if I couldn't? What if it's some genetic thing? What else explains it? Why does one guy feel no fear, goes to war and comes home a hero, while another guy hides behind a rock, hoping that the bullet has anyone's name on it but his? What if I'm one of those guys? What if we both are?"
Jon bristled at the implication, but he couldn't claim that he hadn't wondered the same thing. He had never given it too much thought, or at least allowed it to become such a pointed issue in his life as Will had, but could he? Would he try and take down the gunman that barged into his workplace to turn it into a hunting preserve, or hide behind his forklift and cover his ears to stop the
Jon absorbed this, couldn't deny a feeling of satisfaction at his friend's actions. And it wasn't murder. He figured Brody deserved at least what Will had done, probably still had more coming. But he had no desire to mete out punishment of his own. He still lived with the pain, but didn’t want to approach its source. Brody, a newly minted ex-con, surely hadn't learned anything, spending ten years in prison, a loser if there ever was one. But curiosity got the better of him and he asked, "So how did it feel? To strike back?"
Will turned to him, and Jon saw a haunted man.
"At first it felt great. I actually fibbed a bit before. I had intended to come to your place afterwards, figured we could have a small celebration. But by the time I got to Tanville, I just felt sick. Pathetic. It didn't change anything. Either that or it just wasn't enough. Maybe if I had walked up to the door and knocked, and then punched him in the face..."
"Will, I don't think that's a good idea."
"I know that. What gets me the most is that I don't even think I could do it. I'm too afraid. Almost forty years old, and I don't have the balls to stand up to him." Will's voice choked, and he turned away.
"If it helps, I don't think I could either."
"But why, Jon? How did it go on like that? How is it that no one saw what was happening to us, or if they did, why didn't they stop it? Do you think we were wrong? Not to fight back, or tell our parents or somebody?"
Jon starting reeling his line in again, a purely mechanical action now, his heart far removed from the act of fishing.
"I don't know. Stuff like that happens all of the time. Kids beaten or worse from their parents or some creepy uncle, and it just goes on. People don't want to know, sometimes, because then they have to do something about it. But we made it. And I don't see the use of questioning what can't be changed."
"But are we cowards, Jon? I've never been in a situation since then that could tell me otherwise, never been in another fight after all of that. I didn't run from anything, and I didn't look for trouble…but either way I never had a chance to find out. I sometimes think I should just find a guy on the street and pick a fight. See what happens."
Jon frowned. "What would it prove? We both have jobs, contribute something. You coach little league. And what did Brody do with his life? Sold drugs and spent ten years in prison. So he can beat people up. What does that amount to, in the end?"
Will brought in his line and picked off the lifeless, pale worm that had given its all and re-baited his hook. For a few minutes they focused on the fishing again, and on their own thoughts.
"You're right I guess. But it still bothers me. What if, for instance...someone came onto the field while we were practicing baseball? Threatened the kids. My son. What would I do? Could I stand up to the guy, or would I be too afraid?"
"I'm sure you'd do the right thing, if the kids were in danger."
"I wish I could say for sure. But what if I couldn't? What if it's some genetic thing? What else explains it? Why does one guy feel no fear, goes to war and comes home a hero, while another guy hides behind a rock, hoping that the bullet has anyone's name on it but his? What if I'm one of those guys? What if we both are?"
Jon bristled at the implication, but he couldn't claim that he hadn't wondered the same thing. He had never given it too much thought, or at least allowed it to become such a pointed issue in his life as Will had, but could he? Would he try and take down the gunman that barged into his workplace to turn it into a hunting preserve, or hide behind his forklift and cover his ears to stop the
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