Airman v. Airman

Smoke still issues from the Animal Trainer's pistol when the Airman runs up, sweating. Stop the duel! he says. Norman, frightened, scurries off.

Norman! the Animal Trainer calls out, Norman!

I just got the telegram! he says, his uniform in shambles, tie loosened and out place, jacket unbuttoned, hair mussed. I just got it a day ago!

Norman! calls the Animal Trainer. Norman runs to the bulrushes by the creek. She turns to Airman, eyeing him coldly.

Sorry, ma'am, says the Airman. He reaches to take off his hat but, patting his head, realizes its missing. He looks at the ground around him frantically. He runs fifteen paces back, picks up his hat, puts it on his head, runs up to the Animal Trainer, then takes it off, bowing slightly.

My pa says, he says, that if you're no good with your hands and not that swift, why - hell, you're better to learn the rules and live by the rules, and make that your go-to. If you get his meaning. And well so I read and re-read and damn if I didn't re-re-read this here NCO manual they give you on the first days of training. The Airman reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, well-thumbed dark blue book - a book matching his uniform - with a yellow insignia on the cover. He holds it up, offering it to the impassioned eyes of the Animal Trainer. And damn if I've been good about it, too, he says. They rib me for it, yes, but it's for sure worked.

The Airman swallows hard.

Anyway, I'm just saying this all to say how sure double sorry I am. That I missed it - the duel that is. But hell I think it's either a prank or something what got mixed up in the mailroom on account of nobody seeing a telegram and not knowing how in the Sam Hill to read it right, you know?

The Animal Trainer blinks, then turns her gaze toward the bulrushes. If you missed it, she says, you're in default.

The Airman looks off, a mix of incomprehension and regret on his face. He turns back.

Would have if I'd gotten it, ma'am, he says.

I'm sure you would have, Airman, she says. Check your rule book to see if that counts for much.

The Airman does. He thumbs through the book. He gets to the page. He reads. He closes the book.

Well, he says distantly, I suppose you could say that suicide is a kind of duel for introverts.

You could, she says absently.

Well then, he says. Nice meeting you, he says. The Animal Trainer hands him her gun. Then turns and stands on tip-toe to get a better view across the field, hand over her brow.

Can you tell my pa I died by the rules, ma'am? he asks.

Of course not, she says. That'd be against the rules.

The Airman nods slowly. He walks off to the north. He sees the crows lined along the wire of the fence in the distance, over the decomposing bodies. He looks at them, they look at him.

He raises the gun. His gun goes off.