A group of ten people, which was a crowd in Westwend, stood outside the store, peering in. When Owen came out into the sunlight, they all applauded.

“They’re cheering for you,” said the second paramedic.

“Why?”

“You managed not to get killed,” Caleb whispered.

2

OWEN WAS TAKEN TO a hospital three towns away and was thoroughly inspected. There were long periods of waiting, punctuated by brief visits with nurses who gave shots and took him for tests. He spent lonely hours, the TV on and meaning nothing, sunk in a depression as he contemplated the loss of Helen, what it would mean to her parents and the town. It was during one of these bouts of utter sadness that he wondered what might have happened had he jumped the gunman. But there wasn’t a chance in hell he could ever have mustered the courage to do it. He’d nearly pissed his pants when he saw the gun.

One of the doctors that came by during that long day, a psychologist, warned him never to act the hero again. “I know you wanted to make a difference, but that’s how the casualties increase. Best practice? Run in the other direction,” said the old man. He reeked of cigarette smoke. Owen realized that because of how he was found, pistol-whipped and unconscious, everyone believed he’d attempted to intercede. The relief of this realization was brief and quickly replaced by the guilt of letting people think he was heroic when he was actually a coward.

A doctor was in the room with him talking about ordering an MRI. Owen looked out the window at the setting sun. He put his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. “OK, I’m going now,” he said. “Where are my clothes?”

“Are you sure you’re OK?” the doctor asked. “We’d like to run a few more tests.”

“Yeah, I’m OK. You folks took good care of me.”

“We were considering having you stay overnight.”

“I won’t be doing that,” he said. “Where are my clothes?”

The mayor of Westwend, Rita Morse, had called the hospital and asked them to let her know when Owen would be released so she could send a car to take him home. The doctor went to call for Owen’s ride, and he got dressed. There were a couple of aches and pains. The snack stand had cut his left side pretty badly. There were stitches and a dressing on it. Otherwise, he really could have gone straight to his house instead of going through a day of tests.