Just Some Good Ol’ Boys - 1. Just Some Good Ol’ Boys

Homophobia is like racism and anti-Semitism and other forms of bigotry in that it seeks to dehumanize a large group of people, to deny their humanity, their dignity and personhood.

(Coretta Scott King)

I believe all Americans who believe in freedom, tolerance and human rights have a responsibility to oppose bigotry and prejudice based on sexual orientation.

(Coretta Scott King)

                                    *            *            *            *            *

It’s been a long drive and I just entered Georgia, as I traveled down I-85, heading toward Atlanta. I’m on my way to visit my parents, who live in one of the Atlanta suburbs, because I haven’t seen them in over a year. I’d just recently finished an 11-month deployment in Afghanistan, followed by a month of readjustment on base at Fort Drum, which is located in northern New York State and home to the 10^th Mountain Division. While deployed, I had to be on heightened state of alert nearly 24/7, and this post-deployment downtime helped me get used to not being in a combat zone and prepared me to fit back into life in the States.

Maybe I should give you a little background information about myself before I explain what happened to me on this particular day. First of all, my name is Devin Whitlock and I enlisted in the Army shortly after graduating from high school, nearly seven years ago. Although I had initially signed up with the intent of making the Army my career, I was on the verge of leaving the service when my six-year enlistment was up – but only until Congress repealed DADT (Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell). Once that happened, I changed my mind and recommitted myself to putting in twenty years, or possibly even more, and then retire.

If that isn’t enough of a hint about my personal life and you haven’t guessed it already, I’ll admit that I’m gay, although I haven’t been in any sort of relationship or acted upon my orientation while in uniform. I only began to consider not reenlisting after two of my best friends in the army had been outted, as the result of another soldier’s bigoted suspicions. Although he had no proof of anything at first and merely assumed they were gay, he was determined to discover if his hunch was correct.

He had based his assessment on the fact that they were really good friends, spent a great deal of their off-duty hours together at the NCO (Non-Commissioned Officers) Club and also went off-post to party and do other things together. This made him very leery of them, so he was determined to discover the truth, because he ‘certainly didn’t want to serve with any fags’ (his words). One weekend he followed them, in order to find out if his hunch was correct.

Since my friends were being very cautious, they didn’t frequent any of the gay establishments in the Watertown area, where Fort Drum is located, but would travel eighty miles south to Syracuse, NY instead. They did this because they felt that those they served with would be less likely to be there at the same time, so they could temporarily let their guard down and enjoy themselves. Unfortunately, this particular weekend the guy was so intent on seeing what they were up to that he followed them all the way there.

While staying out of sight, he was able to take photographs of them coming out of a gay club and then later going into a gay bar, dressed in civilian clothes of course, because they didn’t wish to publicize the fact that they were in the service. Even though they were off duty, out of uniform and not doing anything overtly sexual, he recorded the events anyway, so he could show the incriminating snapshots to his superiors. Once he had the proof he felt he needed, their accuser drove back to base, and as soon as he could, took his evidence to his Company Commander, so he could make his allegation and show him the photos. After getting briefed on the situation, the Company Commander then reported this incident to the Brigade Commander and it soon went up the Chain of Command, until the Post Commander ordered my friends to report to his office a few days later.

Once they were apprised of the charges against them, they were shown the photos and asked if they were indeed gay. At this point, my friends had the option of making up a lie to explain the evidence or they could tell the truth, so they had to make a decision. Since each of them had done tours in both Iraq and Afghanistan and had been awarded citations for their actions, in fact one of them had been awarded a Bronze Star, they felt it was their duty to tell the truth.

After admitting that they were indeed gay, they swore that they had never publicized the fact or been involved in a sexual relationship, either with each other or with anyone else, since they’d enlisted. They then went on to state that they were merely friends and enjoyed each other’s company, to explain why they spent so much time together. They then admitted that on the weekend in question they’d gone to Syracuse to attend an SU football game, but had also gone out clubbing and bar hopping the night before at places where they felt comfortable. Even though this was most likely the truth, the fact that they had now disclosed that they were gay had disqualified them from further military service, so they were each eventually given a general discharge and drummed out of the Army.

Since I’d witnessed this happen to them, it prompted me to decide not to reenlist, but once DADT was repealed, I opted to stick it out, as I’d originally planned. I did this because I still enjoyed being a soldier and was proud to defend my country, especially now that I could do it as an openly gay man. I also hoped that I could use my time in uniform as a platform to show others that gays were capable of being excellent soldiers, as well as patriotic citizens, and, therefore, should be treated fairly and extended the same rights as everyone else.

After completing the month readapting to life away from a combat zone, I was granted thirty days leave. I decided to use it to drive to Pennsylvania and visit my friends first, the same ones that had been forced out of the military, before continuing on to visit my parents. I had kept in touch with my buddies after they got out via Facebook, Skype and numerous emails, and once they discovered when I’d be in the area, they invited me to visit them, so we could attend the Pride celebration in Philadelphia together. You see, after receiving their discharges, they had become a committed couple and moved to Allentown. This came about after one of their uncles promised to give each of them a job, if they were willing to relocate there. Since doing this would save them from having to acknowledge their less than honorable discharges, they accepted his generous offer.

I arrived at their place on the first Thursday in June and it was like we had never been apart. We immediately fell into our former bonds as close friends and felt extremely comfortable together. After becoming reacquainted, we went out to eat and enjoyed a lot of laughs exchanging stories about past events, as well as going over some of the things that had happened to us since we had last seen each other. We couldn’t stay out late that evening, because they both had to work the following day, but we certainly enjoyed our time together while it lasted.

The following night, after they got out of work, we set out for Philadelphia, accompanied by a few of their other friends. They had previously reserved a rental passenger van for this weekend, so we could all travel together, but they also made hotel reservations for us at a gay friendly establishment near where the majority of events were going to be held. They had chosen this particular place because they planned to party up a storm, and since we could walk to a number of prime spots from there, we wouldn’t need to have someone miss out on the fun in order to be our designated driver, which sounded good to me. After just a short time getting to know their friends, I quickly discovered that they were all really nice as well, so I looked forward to a weekend of booze, frivolity and hanging around others like myself.

We began bar hopping shortly after we got settled into our rooms, and before long I was thankful that all of the places we went to were so close by, because none of us were in any shape to drive as the evening went on. We all had a great time and I had plenty of opportunity to get to know each of their friends individually. All of them were either gay or bi, and I was happy that my friends had such a great support group now, unlike when they’d been in the army. It was obvious they were happy with their current jobs, residence and friends, but they were also thrilled about being a couple.

We were all fairly hungover the following morning and didn’t feel like doing anything until the afternoon. When we finally decided to get moving again, we started out by walking around and checking out the entire offerings of the sponsors. We ended up collecting a bunch of free items, along with purchasing an assortment of other odds and ends, as well as signing up for a number of the raffles. We also attended a few of the performances that were going on around the grounds, plus we decided to attend the big concert that was planned for that evening. Overall, it was a great day and we had a tremendous amount of fun, although we also managed to spend quite a bit of money.

The Pride Parade was scheduled for noon on Sunday, so after stopping for a late breakfast, we headed over to the parade route early, so we could get a good viewing spot. Unfortunately, many other people had the same idea, so we had to keep moving farther down the route until we reached one of the other performance intersections, where we wouldn’t miss out on the fun.

In the end, it was definitely worth the wait. There were a huge variety of floats, along with different groups on foot, riding motorcycles, in antique cars and even on rollerblades, and there were definitely plenty of scantily clad men. Some of these groups even stopped and put on a little show for us before moving on and I think we were all thoroughly entertained by their efforts. As the various groups went by, they also tossed out a bunch of freebies to the crowd and we managed to collect our share of the goodies. By the time the parade ended, I had the feeling that everyone in our group was glad he had attended.

Once there was nothing more to see, we stopped for lunch before going back to the hotel to check out. After we finished loading up the van, we began the trip back to Allentown. I had a great time joking around with everyone during the meal and the ride back, and they made me feel as if I had always been part of their little clique, so it was a little difficult to say goodbye to them once we reached Allentown. After the others had gone home, my two friends and I spent the rest of the evening alone, as we unwound and recuperated from all of the partying and other shenanigans we had participated in.

Before I went to bed that evening, I advised my two friends that I would be leaving the following day, when they went to work, and make the long drive to my parents’ home in Georgia. Once they heard about my plans, they told me that I didn’t need to get up early and take off before they left for their jobs. They said I could sleep for as long as I wanted and only asked that I make certain the door was locked behind me when I finally decided to hit the road.

Since they had made such a gracious offer, I didn’t set my cell phone alarm that evening or ask them to wake me before they took off the next morning. Instead, I merely thanked them once more before we went to bed and told them I would stop in to see them again on my way back. Knowing I was going to do that seemed to please them, so we all looked forward to spending some more time together in a couple of weeks.

The following morning, I awoke around 7:00, which was actually late for me, since I’m usually up by no later than 5:00. After emerging from the room I had stayed in, I quickly discovered that my hosts had already departed, so I showered, shaved and slipped into something comfortable for the trip. Then, I loaded my suitcase into the trunk of my car and drove over to a nearby diner to have breakfast.

After studying the map while eating, I figured I’d be better off and encounter less traffic by taking I-78 to Harrisburg, because I certainly didn’t want the hassle of navigating through the Philly traffic, just so I could take I-95. After studying my options, I decided that once I reached Harrisburg, I would then jump onto I-81 south until I could divert to I-77, which would take me to Charlotte. I’d eventually end up on I-85, which would take me to Atlanta, but I’d pick it up in North Carolina instead of in Virginia, where I’d have made the connection if I’d been on I-95.

Now that I had my route planned out, I decided to drive straight through and only stop for gas and food, so I’d get there as quickly as I could. My parents had told me where they’d leave a key for me to use, so they wouldn’t have to wait up, because I wasn’t sure what time I’d actually be arriving. Since I was also familiar with the house and knew where I’d be sleeping, this wasn’t a problem.

My timing was fairly good, so I only caught the tail end of the rush hour traffic when going through Charlotte and then I started the final leg of my trip on I-85. It wasn’t long before I’d completed the short trek to the South Carolina border and began the drive across the northwest corner of that state. It was getting dark as I passed through the Lake Hartwell area, which signaled I was leaving South Carolina and entering Georgia, so I was only a few hours away from my final destination.

About an hour later, I was traveling through a fairly remote and desolate stretch of the Interstate when my car suddenly began to sputter and die. I quickly threw it into neutral and glided onto the shoulder of the road, so my car was out of the way and I’d avoid the possibility of being hit by another vehicle while I was trying to evaluate what was wrong. I immediately checked the gas gauge and noticed that I still had over a half tank left, so that wasn’t the problem. I then popped the hood, grabbed a flashlight and got out to investigate the situation further.

After checking out the obvious possibilities, and without noticing anything that jumped out as being the problem, I felt it might be the result of something that I wasn’t qualified to deal with. Since most newer model cars have so many computerized parts and potential high tech problems, I decided to use my cell phone to call Triple-A and report my dilemma. After giving my membership information to the woman I spoke with, she informed me that she would send someone out to help, but advised me that it might be an hour or more before the person reached my location. Even though this wasn’t something I wanted to hear, I didn’t have much of a choice, so I got back into the driver’s seat, put my flashlight away and tried to get comfortable, as I waited for help to arrive.

It was only about forty-minutes later when I saw a pair of headlights pull up and stop behind my vehicle, so I counted my blessings that the tow truck had arrived sooner than I’d expected. When I got out of the car and could observe the vehicle that had stopped, I realized it wasn’t whom I’d expected. It was merely a Ford pickup truck and the driver, who was probably in his mid-forties, was getting out and moving in my direction.

“Peers tuh me dat y’all must be havin’ a heap a trouble,” he stated, in his thick southern drawl.

“Yes, but I’ve called Triple-A and they should be arriving shortly,” I responded, as I noticed someone else, about the same age, get out of the passenger side of the truck.

“Ya tars look awright, so ditcha runned outta gas?” he asked, in barely recognizable English.

“Yes, the tires are fine and I still have plenty of gas,” I answered, while rolling my eyes, but not so he could see me do it.

“Ditcha check da ahl and battree?” he followed, as if he thought I must be a complete imbecile.

“Yes, the oil and battery are fine,” I answered, as I wondered why he felt inclined to ask such obvious questions. “Triple-A should be arriving any time now and I’m sure they’ll help me with whatever the problem is.”

“Maybe me and my buddies here kin hep y’all before dey git here,” he countered.

This unnerved me, because his comment indicated there were more than just the one other person I’d noticed with him, unless this was just another of his southern colloquialisms. Just to be sure, I looked at his truck and noticed that it had an extended cab, which meant there still might be others inside.

“Thank you, but I suspect it’s a computer chip problem or something beyond our ability to solve here, so I’m assuming the car will have to be towed to a garage,” I replied. “I appreciate your offer though, but I doubt there’s anything you can do to assist me. I’ve already checked out most of the other possibilities before you pulled up.”

“It won’t hurt to chack,” he stated, as he moved closer. “We-ins all purdy handy fixin’ injuns and such. Billy Joe, fetch me the dang flashlight outta da truck.”

The driver continued to move closer to me, as his passenger ducked back inside the cab to retrieve the requested item. I hoped he was only getting a flashlight, because I certainly didn’t have a good feeling about these guys.

“Whadoncha pop the hud and let me chack thangs out,” he suggested.

“Really, that’s not necessary,” I responded. “Triple-A should be arriving any minute now.”

“Whada matta? Are ya too uppity fer us ta hep ya?” he wanted to know.

Before I had a chance to answer, I heard his buddy call out to him.

“J.D., hesin from up nawth. His tags are from N’yawk, so hesin a big city boy. He’s agot one of dem fag stickers on da trunk tu!” he stated with a sneer on his lips, and I could feel the contempt in his voice.

I was actually surprised when he mentioned the gay sticker, since I didn’t know that it was on my car. I had no idea that one of my friends had put it there before I left their house, even though I knew they had purchased one of the gay flag magnets for each of our cars when we attended Pride. It was the one with ‘Gay Pride’ written across the rainbow colored stripes, but I didn’t know they had stuck it on my car. The fact that it might be there had never even crossed my mind, because I thought they had merely put the one they’d bought for me in my luggage, but now I realized this minor item was about to create a major problem.

“He don’t dress like one of dohs sissy boys, but ah reckon looks kin be deceivin’” J.D. shouted back. “Ah got half-a-mind to have a leddle funnin widdem.”

I thought he was being overly generous by giving himself credit for having half a mind. If you had asked me, I’d have guessed that he was the product of a long line of inbreeding and, therefore, severely lacking in mental acuity.

“Guys, like I said before, Triple-A should be here shortly, so you don’t need to stick around,” I stated, while eying them suspiciously. “Thanks anyway, but I really don’t need your assistance tonight.”

“Are ya sayin’ me and my buddies ain’t good enuf to hep ya out, fag boy?” he shot back.

Having said that, J.D. made a rapid movement in my direction and raised his right arm, as if he were about to throw a punch. Seeing him do this, I stiffened, but only slightly, as I prepared to receive the blow.

“Fellas, he’s not askeered,” J.D. observed. “I rekkin he must thank he’s purdy tough and kin handle a real man.”

After saying that, he drew back his arm again, but this time he didn’t hold back and threw the punch. When I saw the blow coming, my combat instincts kicked in and caused me to duck out of the way, before I countered and delivered a sidekick to his midsection. He appeared almost startled as my foot sank into his belly and jarred the air from his lungs, but then I quickly pulled it back and placed it on the ground again. J.D. immediately doubled over and dropped to his knees on the shoulder of blacktop, but I knew that wouldn’t stop him for very long. Fearing he’d recuperate and come after me again, I lifted my knee sharply and connected with his chin, which caused him to crumple up in a heap on the ground in front of me.

Now that I was no longer worried about him, I looked back toward his truck again and noticed the other guy had started running toward us. I also spotted two others getting out of the back of the extended cab, but they weren’t making any move in my direction, so I concentrated on the other guy instead. When the one named Billy Joe was close enough to observe J.D.’s current predicament, he reached back to his hip and pulled a hunting knife out of a sheath that was attached to his belt. He then lunged toward me, blade extended, but I was able to avoid his initial thrust and grabbed his wrist, before he could try anything else.

With a sudden rush of adrenaline coursing through my body, I forced his arm downward and then twisted it behind his back, as I put him in a hammerlock. I continued to push his arm even higher, toward his shoulder blades, as I applied even greater pressure to it. I continued to do this until he released his grip on the knife and I was able to take control of the blade. Once it was no longer in his possession, I put my foot on his backside and gave his body a final shove, which propelled him forward, totally off balance. He stumbled for a few steps and then tripped over one of J.D.’s legs, which caused him to fall to the ground. He was now sprawled out just a few feet past his friend’s still prone body, but since he wasn’t hurt as badly, Billy Joe quickly scrambled back to his feet.

“Git ova here and hep me git dis fucker,” Billy Joe yelled out to the other pair, both of whom looked younger than J.D. and him, as he started moving back in my direction.

When I saw the other duo start running toward us, I knew I wouldn’t be able to deal with all of them at the same time, so I held on to the knife, turned around and sprinted toward the woods, which lined the Interstate on both sides of the roadway. When I got closer to the tree line, I realized I’d have to either try to find a gap in the overhanging kudzu or cut an opening through it, since those tangled vines appeared to form a vegetative barrier that would prevent me from going further.

“Git da fuckin’ guns outta da pick-em up, soze weez ‘kin faller ‘im. Ah wanta learn dis sonnabitchin’ faggot dat he ought not to be amessin’ widdus,” Billy Joe hollered to the other pair.

Billy Joe had obviously forgotten that J.D. had tried to punch me first, before he had run over and pulled the knife on me, so I had merely been defending myself. At this point, I think he was just embarrassed about having been shown up by someone who was gay and should have been easy to handle. I guess he and his buddies thought I’d be a wimp and figured they could have some fun knocking me around for a while, so they were more than a little surprised when I’d put two of them on the ground. Now, they wanted to make up for their earlier mistakes and see that I paid for my audacity of fighting back, so I was literally running for my life. I’m not sure what kind of guns he’d been referring to when he told the others to get them out of the truck, but I knew whatever they had would be a lot more dangerous than the hunting knife I was now carrying.

Fortunately, the outfit I had put on that morning was somewhat appropriate, considering my current situation. I had on a mint-green pair of shorts and black running shoes, so they would help me blend in better with my surroundings than if I’d worn the khaki cargo shorts and the white track shoes. The only drawback was the pastel-yellow polo shirt I was wearing, since any light color would stand out in a wooded setting, even in limited light. Acknowledging this fact, I quickly slipped it off and tossed it to the side, and since I didn’t currently see or hear anyone behind me, I took a few more seconds to rub some dirt onto my chest, back and face to help camouflage my body. Thankfully, it was a warm evening, so I wouldn’t suffer dressed as I was, except for being eaten by bugs that seemed to think I was a tasty treat.

There was also a three-quarter moon out, so there was enough light filtering through the overhanging boughs so I could move about without bumping into things, but it also meant it would help those in pursuit to be able to spot me more easily as well. For that reason, I moved slowly and tried to be as quiet as I could, now that I was about fifty or sixty yards inside of the tree line, but I also kept on the lookout for the guys trying to find me. I had run straight ahead for part of the time after navigating through the kudzu, but then I veered off in a westerly direction, in order to make it more difficult for them to find me. Although this wasn’t the same sort of terrain I’d encountered while in Afghanistan, I’d had plenty of experience in very similar surroundings while training at Fort Drum, so I knew I’d be fine.

After overhearing their last comments before I ducked out of sight, I had to assume that each of them was armed and ready to use those weapons. One factor that was definitely to my advantage was that they were making enough noise to give me a general idea where they were currently searching, but they also made the mistake of using flashlights to try to spot me, which actually made it easier for me to see them, than for them to locate me.

“Hereins his shirt, so he’s nekkid from da waist up,” I heard one of them yell, a few seconds later. “Not shore why he shucked it off, but it means we’s aheadin’ da right way.”

That wasn’t exactly true, because I had taken the shirt off while I’d been moving directly ahead and before I changed direction. If they kept going in a straight line, I’d be fine and they wouldn’t find me, so I stood still for a few minutes and watched as the three flashlights merge on the spot where I’d discarded my shirt.

Although I couldn’t exactly tell what they were thinking and wasn’t able to hear what they were saying, a few minutes later I saw one of the flashlights start moving straight ahead again, while another moved off to the east and the third began moving in my direction. I guess they had decided there was a possibility that I hadn’t merely continued moving forward and they could cover more ground by splitting up. By going off individually, however, they had also tilted the odds back in my favor, because I’d only have to deal with one of them at a time, unless they joined up again later. I stood a much better chance of overcoming and disarming them individually, rather than if I had to take all three of them on simultaneously

I was hoping they would give up looking for me after an hour or two, especially after we heard a horn honking from the direction we had come from. I thought they might assume it was the fourth guy signaling them to come back, although I’d concluded it was probably the AAA guy trying to get me to respond to his arrival. I wasn’t overly concerned though, since I had taken off without having a chance to lock the car and knew the guy would be able to tow it to a garage, if the other redneck didn’t chase him off first. If AAA towed the car, then I’d be able to catch up with it again later, if I survived this little fiasco, so I was going to do my best to make sure that happened.

I had been tempted to loop around the three searching for me and head back to my car, so I could meet up with the tow truck driver, but since I could only account for three of them in the woods, I’d decided against doing that. I felt the fourth guy was probably located somewhere between the woods and my vehicle, patiently waiting for me to show myself again. Considering he might have a gun as well, I wasn’t about to make that mistake and walk into a trap, so I kept moving instead.

I also thought about using my cell phone to call for help, but that’s when I realized I’d either dropped it along the way or left it in the car. In all of the confusion, I’m not sure which had actually happened, but either way I was without a phone. I’d have to do the best I could until I located it again or reached someplace where I’d be able to contact the authorities.

While I’d been thinking about that, I was also doing my best to stay out of sight and conserve my energy, while continuing to maintain surveillance on the flashlight moving toward me. To my delight and advantage, the guy heading my way was fairly inept, so I was able to observe nearly every move he was making. I was hiding behind a tree, so when he got close enough to my position, I lunged out and stabbed him in the upper arm with the knife.

As he screamed out in pain, I withdrew the knife and he dropped the flashlight from his opposite hand, so he could place it over the wound, while I grabbed the hand with the gun in it. Since that was part of the same arm I’d just stabbed, he tried to resist my effort and reflexively pulled the trigger and fired a single shot before I got the gun away from him. The bullet flew harmlessly away from us and I easily wrestled the weapon out of his grasp, since he couldn’t put up much of a struggle with just one good arm.

After the gun went off, I began to hear the others yelling to him and he was responding, so I knew I didn’t have much time before they reached us.

“Jimbo, wuz dat you ashootin’?” one of them shouted.

“He took muh gun enit went off,” Jimbo shouted back.

Before I took off, however, I also grabbed the flashlight he’d dropped and turned it off, but I kept it with me, so he couldn’t use it to signal his location to his friends. This meant it would take them a little longer to pinpoint his position and it would provide me with a few more seconds to slip away from there, before they could start looking for me again.

Although I could have avoided having this particular confrontation and left the area before he reached my location, I opted not to do so, in case the others caught up with me again later. If that happened, I knew it wouldn’t be wise for me to only bring a knife to a gun fight, so I felt I needed to get one of their weapons to improve my chances of getting out of this mess in one piece. Now that I had the item I wanted, I began to head west again, but I could still hear the other two shouting to Jimbo, as they attempted to locate him.

“Jimbo, ya awrite?” the voice asked, although I could tell it was still a long way from his current location.

“Naw! Da fucker stuck me in da arm with duh knife,” Jimbo shouted back. “He swiped mah gun n flashlight too, afore he lit out.”

“Ahma aymin ta fix dat, cuz da bassurd is dead meat nah,” the voice I recognized as Billy Joe’s yelled back. “Isin ya awrite doh?”

“It hurts like the dickins and ahma bleedin’ like a stuck hawg, but ahl liv,” he shouted back. “Yuh and Goober quit lolly gaggin’ n shag yur asses over here ta hep me out, cuz he’s aheadin’ duh udder way from where y’alls is. He’s alriddy moved a fer piece off.”

When I heard him say that, I quickly changed the direction I was traveling and veered north, to throw them off my scent. After walking about a hundred yards in that direction, I changed course once more and began moving east, because I didn’t feel they’d suspect that I’d double back on them.

I stopped momentarily, when I saw the guy they’d called Goober pulling even with my position, although he was still nearly fifty yards south of where I was standing. Even though his flashlight was helping me to spot him, I knew he couldn’t see me, but I was still leery that he might be able to hear something if I started moving again. For that reason, I waited until he got closer to where I suspected Billy Joe was trying to patch up Jimbo before I started out again. After I had traveled east for quite a while, I changed direction one more time and began heading south, toward where I expected to find I-85.

After walking for a while, I knew I must be getting closer to the highway, because the occasional sounds of the traffic passing by was growing louder and more distinct with nearly every step. When I reached the kudzu again, I peeked out to see if I could spot the pickup and saw that it was still there, parked about seventy yards to my right, but my car was gone. Since I didn’t want to be spotted, I continued slinking farther away from that location, before electing to come out of the woods.

When I did, I sneaked across the grassy shoulder to the roadway, waited until there was no traffic and then scooted across the southbound lanes, so I could move into the median. After doing that, I stayed put for a while, to make certain that I hadn’t been spotted. Once I felt it was safe, I began to slowly and very cautiously creep along the median toward the pickup again, while also keeping an eye an the entire area, as I attempted to discern any signs that someone was near the truck. As I crept closer, I spotted a person either sitting or kneeling in the grassy section between the highway and the wooded area, but since he was looking toward the trees, he hadn’t noticed me. Feeling slightly more confident, I continued inching my way along until I was even with where he and the truck were located.

Now that I was directly across from his location, I waited for another break in the traffic and then quietly crossed the roadway again. Once I was safely behind the pickup and convinced I hadn’t been heard or spotted, I peeked around the truck to make certain only the one person was there and to see what he was up to. After scanning the area for a brief time, I became convinced he was the only one present and it was the same guy who had attacked me and I’d kicked in the gut, before I kneed him in the head. It was apparent the others were still in the woods, because his attention was focused on the tree line, as he watched for his friends to return or for me to come back to where I expected my car to still be located.

Since he was so focused on the wooded area, I was able to sneak up behind him, unnoticed. As I crept closer to where he was sitting, I saw there was a rifle on the ground next to him and suspected it was there so he could use it to shoot me, if I were dumb enough to blunder out into the open again. Since I wanted to make certain he wouldn’t get that chance, I slithered up behind him, raised the pistol I was carrying and placed it against the back of his head.

“I hope you’re not foolish enough to try something,” I stated, once he realized he was at a disadvantage. “I’d rather not put a bullet in your brain, but I will if I have to.”

He remained motionless and didn’t say a word.

“First of all, I want you to slowly toss the keys to the truck behind you, along with your cell phone,” I ordered.

Hesitantly, he did as I’d instructed, but only after I’d pressed the muzzle of the weapon more firmly against his head. As soon as he had done what I wanted, I picked up the keys and the phone and placed them in my pocket.

“That was a wise choice,” I mused, “and now I want you to slowly lean forward, until you are able to lie, belly down, on the ground, with you head continually facing toward the woods. Don’t even twitch in the direction of the rifle or turn toward me, because I promise you’ll end up dead if you do.”

He did as I directed, so I picked up the rifle and carried it a short distance away from his location. Once I was out of his reach and not as concerned that he might try something, I carefully unloaded the rifle and put the bullets in another pocket, because I was going to toss the rifle as far away from him as I could before I left. Before I did that, however, I realized my fingerprints would still be on it, so I decided to take the rifle with me, but I had some parting words for him before I left.

“I hope you realize that I could have killed all four of you tonight, because I had plenty of opportunities to do so,” I advised him. “The thing is, I only kill when I have to and it wouldn’t really have changed anything anyway. Sure, there might have been four less fucking homophobes to bother other gays, but now you and your friends will know that you owe your very lives to a gay man. Think about that very carefully before you attack another one of us, because the next time you may not be so lucky. In fact, you still might not be that lucky tonight, unless you heed my words, so listen carefully to what I have to say.

“First of all, I advise you to lie perfectly still and keep looking toward the trees, no matter what you hear. If I even see you twitch, I’ll shoot you without hesitation, and trust me when I say you wouldn’t be the first person to die at my hands. I’ve killed plenty of enemy combatants while serving my country in Iraq and Afghanistan, so offing a scumbag like you wouldn’t bother me in the least.”

After telling him this, I walked over to the truck, opened the driver’s side door, slipped behind the wheel and put the key in the ignition. After lowering the windows, so I could fire out without shattering the glass or have it alter the trajectory of the bullet if I had to shoot, I started the engine. Once I was certain he wasn’t going to try anything foolish, I closed the door and started off down the highway. When I looked into the rearview mirror a few seconds later, I could see the guy had finally gotten up and was jumping up and down, as he threw a hissy-fit over the loss of his prize possession.

As soon as I was comfortably away from that area, I pulled over and used his cell phone to call Triple-A again. Fortunately, I still had my membership card with their emergency phone numbers in my wallet, so I called to see where they had taken my car. After waiting for several minutes, I was given directions to the garage where it had been towed, so I set out for that location next. When I reached my destination, I parked the pickup down the street from the garage, because it would still be a few more hours before it opened.

After looking around the truck, I discovered there was a light jacket lying on the rear seat, so I reached back, grabbed it and put it on, since I had tossed my shirt away earlier. I then found an old rag lying on the front, passenger’s side of the floor and used it to wipe down every surface I had touched. First, I wiped down the pistol and placed in under the seat, before wiping off the rifle and laying it on the floor in back. I then wiped off the cell phone and place it above the sun visor, wiped off the keys and left them in the ignition, and then I wiped down the steering wheel and door, inside and out, before I locked it and walked away. I didn’t want to hang around the pickup, just in case the guy or his friends had flagged someone down and been able to contact the authorities to report the vehicle stolen.

After leaving the truck, I found a 24-hour convenience store, where I tossed the rag I’d used to wipe down the truck into the garbage. Then, I went inside to use their restroom to relieve myself and wash off the dirt I’d smeared all over my upper body to make it more difficult to be seen. When I finished up in there, I went out and purchased a drink and a snack, before I headed outside to look for a quiet, secluded spot where I could catch a couple of hours of sleep.

What I eventually discovered was a small park with some playground equipment, but there was also a suitable area over by a hedge, which separated the park from the adjoining property. I quickly lay down, got comfortable, used my arm as a pillow and then slowly dozed off. I awoke again shortly after the sun came up, but not merely because the sun’s rays began to pierce my eyelids. I could also hear the sounds of traffic moving about on the street and felt that I’d rather not have someone spot me and then come over to investigate if I was all right. For that reason, I got up and walked around until I spotted a diner, and then I went inside to use the restroom, before ordering some breakfast.

I took my time eating and managed to enjoy several cups of coffee while I was at it, because I wanted to make sure the garage was open and they’d had time to work on my car by the time I’d finished. After I’d consumed the last of the food, I sat and sipped my final cup of coffee before leaving. Then I took a leisurely stroll back to the garage, where I spotted my car being worked on, so I walked over to the counter, to see what the problem had been.

“That’s my car in the first bay,” I stated, while pointing toward the vehicle. “Can you tell me what was wrong with it, when it will be ready for me to leave and how much I’ll owe you?”

“Just a second and I’ll see how they’re doing,” the guy behind the counter answered.

He then walked over to check with the mechanic currently working on my vehicle and when he came back, he informed me of their progress.

“It was a busted timing belt,” he clarified, “and I was told he’d be done working on it in about a half hour.”

The man then told me how much I owed him for the repairs, along with the towing charge, so I put it on my credit card and then sat down to wait for them to finish working on it. When I noticed they were backing my car out of the bay, I stood up, walked outside and thanked the mechanic, before I slipped behind the wheel. As I was adjusting my seat and mirrors again, I noticed my cell phone on the passenger seat, so I hadn’t lost it after all.

After pulling out on the street, I drove back to where the pickup was parked. When I saw it was still sitting there and no one else was around, I pulled up behind it, so I could jot down the plate number and the county it had been issued in. I did that in case I needed the information later, to prove what I’d been through and who was involved. I doubted any of those guys had been smart enough to jot down my tag number, but I didn’t expect they’d report anything that had happened anyway, other than the stolen truck, because then there would be a lot of questions asked that I’m sure they’d prefer to not have to answer. I figured the truck’s owner would wind up getting his pickup back sooner or later, when someone either called him to move it or requested him to come pay the fines after it had been impounded, but he should be happy if that’s the worst thing that happens to him. At least he’d have his pickup back.

I didn’t want to report this incident to the police either, since I was a northerner and understood that some southerners still didn’t look upon us Yanks favorably. It wasn’t merely that I had a New York State driver’s license and New York plates on my car, but it was even worse that I was a Gay Yankee to boot. Even though most of the older stories I’d heard about southern justice were most likely no longer accurate, I’d seen enough incidents reported on TV to still make me leery. I also felt that no matter what the law did to the guys who’d attacked me, it wouldn’t change them at all, except to possibly help reinforce their bigotry. I felt that I’d probably already done more to them than the law would, so I chose to let the matter drop.

Before I pulled away from the area though, I called my folks and told them I was running a little late due to some car trouble, but that I was fine and would see them in a few hours. My mom sounded relieved and said she’d notify my dad at work, and then I set out again. After making my way back to the Interstate, I drove the final leg of the trip to my parents’ house.

I had a great time with my mom and dad and used some of our initial time together to fill them in about my last tour of duty, but I avoided mentioning most of the scary shit. I also told them about my trip and about stopping in to see my old army buddies, as well as the incident with the timing belt, but I refused to let them know anything about my encounter with the rednecks. I had survived the incident and saw no need to worry them further, but I did take an additional precaution when it was time to return home. Instead of taking the same route I’d followed coming here, I opted to take I-75 North this time, until it crossed over I-70 East. Then, I’d followed that route all the way back to Pennsylvania, were I would stop in to see my friends again, before heading back to Watertown, NY and Fort Drum.

Although this past month hasn’t been as stressful as the time I’d spent in Afghanistan, it did have its moments. I still have some minor regrets about stabbing the one guy in the arm, since that could have been avoided, but desperate men do whatever they need to do when confronted, and that group should feel lucky that they are still alive. Under slightly different circumstances, things could have ended much worse for them or for me.

THE END.

I’d love to hear what you thought of this story. Either post a review or add your comment in my forum. Thank you.