"Which is your's, son?" Erm... what? It's..." He couldn't see his rucksack anywhere. Startledout of his happy mood, he started to panic. "But it must ...e there, Ileft it right... there. It's gone, someone must have taken it?" I'm afraid I can't help you son, but I can give you the number of thedepot, maybe somebody will return it in."Calum folded the bus ticket with the number on the back, and slid itinto his jeans pocket. Now his absent-mindedness was from struggling tothink what to do, rather. I don't know why. Each time the chaos returned, the shouts, the sounds, the faces of the men, the terrible gunshots one after the other. For some reason the gunshots penetrated me most of all. Guns were a way of life in our rural setting, but for me, they were put aside. I just didn't want to hear them, and reconciling that with my desire to be a cop was difficult, at best.Eventually, however, I noticed other things. Shootout or none, when the evening breezes of early June swept across the. More

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