The story so far:
There are moments in everyone's life, and to this contention there are no exceptions, when one has two minutes to make a decision, and after that point there must be execution, or submission. And it is taught forth that within these two minutes a man, woman, or child defines himself both as a character and as a moral inhabitant of civility.
If he hesitates, there are consequences. If he acts, there are consequences. The question is, can he live with the consequences? We dichotomize our choices in life - practicable versus amusing, conservative versus creative, vindictive versus indignant. What do I choose, because my two minutes are just about up.
Here's what the "sane" man would have done. He would have told my dad to start CPR while I call for an ambulance and notify the police. He would have weighed the options responsibly, maturely even. He would think about other people besides himself, but at that moment when tragedy strikes, people are held victim to their whims and fancies, and they become selfish.
A soft rain started now and there's a frigid chill in the air, but I feel like I'm boiling, like my heart is trying to burrow its way through my chest, find the first blunt object in the forest and reap vengeance on all iniquity in the world.
I'm still kneeling over Bo while my father is still trying vainly to stop the blood escaping from Bo's chest. The blood coming from my best friend's chest. The blood from my brother's chest. The brother who drove me to school everyday without complaining. The brother who taught me how to talk to girls. The brother who punched the football captain for making fun of me in the cafeteria. Sweet mother of God have mercy on me, for I act outside of myself, and there is no force on this earth or any other that will stop me from what I am about to do.
In an instant I find myself running through the woods, rain drops and tears stain my eyes, but I'm not crying. Blood and dirt saturate my clothes where the branches cut my skin, but I'm not bleeding. I feel the uncanny sensation that I'm not even human anymore, and I can't remember the last time I took a breath. Up ahead I see that hunter's jacket, plaid and disgusting. I wonder if he knows I'm behind him. I wonder if he knows I've lost my mind. I wonder if he knows about the rock in my hand.