Page 45 of Walking Wounded

“I dunno. It sure pays real money, even if it isn’t a real job.”

“I’m just trying to help you find your hidden talents.”

“Lifting?” Will moved to sit on the tailgate of the truck. Finn slumped closer, leaning all his weight against the bed, knee knocking against Will’s. “Nah, that’s not for me. These big ol’ hands just get in the way.” He held them out as proof and Finn snorted.

In the last two years, Will had started to fill out. When he saw his reflection in windows now, he was surprised to see a broad-shouldered, well-muscled young man who didn’t look like anyone you’d want to mess with. His large hands fit his frame now, and his wrists were no longer knobby, but capable.

Finn pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped his face and neck, grimacing when it came away dark with grit. “What time does your mama want me there tonight?”

“Seven.”

Finn nodded and tucked the handkerchief away. “Sounds good.”

“You’ll want to clean up,” Will admonished without heat. “Don’t come to my mother’s door looking that filthy.”

Finn stood rigid, clicked his heels together, and sent Will a mock salute that seemed crisp and studied, and not like horsing around. Will could envision it so easily: the sharp corners of the uniform, the shining brass, all Finn’s unruly hair sheared off and his expression blank beneath burning eyes. Finn had a capable way of moving, maximizing effort, graceful in his execution of everyday tasks, from stacking crates to lighting a cigarette. Like someone who did every single thing with total purpose and concentration, making it look easy as breathing. It wasn’t hard to envision him with a rifle in his hands, a helmet slipping down over his forehead. Will could hear the exact timbre of his voice if he was giving orders to his men, because Finn wasn’t the sort to stay at the bottom of the heap for long.

All of that must have shown on Will’s face, because Finn dropped the pose and his brows knitted together. “What?”

Will swallowed. “Don’t do it, Finn. Just don’t.”

Finn didn’t ask what he meant by that; he knew. He sighed deeply and sat down on the tailgate beside Will. Their thighs pressed together, the unconscious intimacy of best friends. “Can I at least explain?”

Will swallowed again, a lump fast forming in his throat. “Yeah, go ahead.” His voice came out wobbly.

Finn took a breath. “I’ve been reading the papers. And I drove to the school one day to talk to one of the history teachers about it.”

“You went to Georgetown?” Will was surprised – and maybe a little miffed that Finn had been there and hadn’t looked him up so they could grab lunch.

“Yeah. Pretty smart guy – Robinson, you ever had him?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “See, the thing is, it’s real bad over in Korea. We let the communists have everything north of the 38thParallel, but they’ve decided that’s not good enough; they want it all; they want to spread communism. Bastards.” He spat onto the pavement for emphasis. “So they’re just invading. Killing babies and women and doing all sorts of horrible shit. The Americans evacuated, but the Reds came in and killed all the South Koreans that worked for the Americans.”

“I haven’t seen that in the papers,” Will said, weakly. His stomach churned.

“You wouldn’t. Professor Robinson’s got a buddy who works in the White House, that’s how he knows. North Korea wants the whole island, and when you get them, you get all the communist countries. They’re like this.” He laced all his fingers together to demonstrate. “They want the whole world to be communist, one country at a time.”

“Well, maybe we ought to just wait and worry about that when they start wanting to make us commies. Maybe we just let ‘em have Korea.”

“No, see.” Passion gripped Finn, bright under his skin, hands curling into fists in his lap. “That’s the wrong attitude right there. That’s what everyone thought about Hitler. Appeasement. Just let him have what he wants and he’ll settle down. Only he didn’t settle down. And he bombed the damn hell out of London. And he put Jews in gas chambers, and he–”

Will raised his hand. “I take your point.”

“If someone steps out of line, and you let them get away with it, they’ll do it again and again.”

It was like dealing with schoolyard bullies, Will thought hysterically. What had his father always told him? Hit back, and they’ll quit that nonsense. Well, sure, hitting back was fine when it was Jimmy Paulson on the playground. But what about when the bully was another country? War happened, that’s what. World Wars.

“There’s American boys dying over there, Will. They’re gonna need more boys.”

“And why does one of those boys have to be you?” Will snapped, angry suddenly. He turned to his friend with heat clawing inside his chest, frustrated and terrified and wanting to shake him. “You’ve been trying to run off and get yourself killed in a war your whole life. You’re obsessed with it! Why? Is your life so worthless you just can’t wait to throw it away?”

You could have heard the grass growing. After his words, those furious, bitten-off syllables he hadn’t even meant to utter, a thick silence fell between them, solid enough to touch.

One corner of Finn’s mouth twitched and he glanced away, down at his hands. “Dad,” he said, quietly, after a moment, “said a long time ago that he didn’t want me to know what war was like. Wanted to ‘spare’ me, he said. ‘I’d give anything for you to not have to go.’”

“War did things to your father,” Will said, voice gentle now. He felt ashamed by his outburst. “His leg’s not the worst of it. It hurt himinside.”

Finn nodded. “And it made him a miserable son of a bitch, yeah. But there’s not anything he could change about that. It was the War, and everyone had to play his part.”

“There’s no draft, not yet. This isn’t a part you have to play if you don’t want to.”

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