“James Barbuni. James Barbuni. James Barbuni.”
    My breath matched the radio-voice’s mantra as Franklin State Forest whisked by. Dust billowed behind like a spotlight. From the passenger seat, Mark made occasional grunts as if each potential grouse we passed was a gut-punch.
    “Mark.”
    He stopped.
    Half-hour later I skidded up in front of my drive.
    “Easy, Jimmy!” Mark complained. “Just had her washed.”
    A line of vehicles spilled out onto the trail.
    “Shit,” he breathed next. “They got a whiff of the cake.”
    I drove through the grass to the front porch. Townsfolk jumped back from window-peeping and ran over. Boomer barked like crazy inside.
    “Jimmy,” Sarah called, “the radio - did you hear?”
    “All this static,” Hank bellowed, “and then-”
    “Your name, Jimmy!”
    They tried to out-shout each other, and Mark tried to out-shout their out-shouting, but it wasn’t until he fired a round into the air that everyone shut up.
    “What the hell, Mark?” Jerry complained, knuckle-deep in an ear.
    I ignored him. “Now I like most of you just fine,” I called, “but you’re uninvited, and I’m in a rush. Go home.”
    “Jimmy,” Sarah said, “it’s not just Janesville or Scottsburg. I called my sister - you remember her, sweet woman, sort of heavier-”
    “Heavier than my truck!” Hank called to laughter.
    Sarah spat. “Not after your fat ass rolls out!”
    Hank reddened; townsfolk laughed more.
    “Your sister, Sarah?” I reminded before they formally teed-off on one another.
    “She’s in the cities. Their stations are out too, saying your name, Jimmy; it’s country-wide.”
    Shit.
    I shouldered through the crowd, Mark on my heels. They shouted questions and advice, and cars kept coming. Inside, I patted Boomer and started packing.
    “Smellin’ the cake,” Mark said, staring out the window like Boomer.
    Ten minutes later, the choppers came. As they landed around my house, blades wind-whipping townsfolk out of the way, I wondered why I had cleared the trees so far back.
    “You did something, Jimmy,” Mark grinned, leveling his gun.
    “Don’t be dumb,” I growled. “That’s government.”
    “How?”
    “Who else?”
    “They’re trespassin’.”
    “We live in a damn state forest.”
    Black-clad, faceless figures rushed forth, waving their barrels around like little boys who’d just discovered a new game for their dicks. Townsfolk gave them all sorts of choice words, but only one kind of finger.
    “Feed Boomer, eh, Mark?” I patted my pup, and went outside before someone did something stupid.
    “James Barbuni?” a faceless SWAT-soldier asked.
    I sighed. “You know it.”
    Two pulled me into a chopper, while the rest kept their little barrels trained shamelessly all around.
    “They can’t take you, Jimmy!” Sarah proclaimed.
    “You gonna fix the radio?” someone else asked.
    “If you see the president,” Hank called, “tell him he can su-”
    The chopper door slammed shut.
    “Ready, Jimmy?” the SWAT-soldier asked.
    “Friends call me Jimmy.”
    “Of course they do.”
    If I didn’t know better, behind that mask, I’d say he was smiling.