
“Where’s your gun?”
“My what?” he asked, frowning at her.
“Your gun. Your GUN,” she hissed. “Where is it?”
“I don’t have a gun.”
She looked at him. She thought nothing could surprise her, but evidently she was wrong. “What do you mean you don’t have a gun? Everyone has a gun. How can you not have a gun? I don’t understand.”
“Why would I have a gun? I don’t want to maim or kill anything.”
She lowered her weapon. “I never knew anyone who didn’t have a gun. This is America. It’s a law. Everyone has to carry one. If you’re found without a gun, you go to prison.”
“What?” he said, “You can go to jail for not carrying a gun?”
“You’re not from around here, are you,” she said, leaning against a burned out car.
“No, I’m not.”
“Here,” she said, handing him a Glock. “I always carry a couple extras, just to be safe.”
“Thanks, but I really don’t want…”
“Rather be in prison?”
He took the gun.
“Do you know how to use it?”
He shook his head. “I’ve never even held one before.”
“You’re kidding,” she said. “We learn how to use a gun when we turn two. It’s another law. Parents can lose custody of their children, if they fail to teach them how to lock and load, starting on their second birthday. The supreme court demands it.”
“Don’t a lot of kids die? Don’t they accidentally kill their parents?”
“How many is a lot? And yes, they kill their parents quite often,” she snickered. “Happens all the time. They were going to raise the age to three, but the gun people had a fit, and the government is owned by them, so it’s still two years of age.”
“Have you killed anyone?”
“Of course. That’s what guns are for. It’s not like they’re decorations, or anything. Why? Don’t you kill people where you come from?”
“We do not.”
“Why not?”
“We are…peaceful.”
“Seriously? I thought peace was fiction.”
“Actually, it’s a real thing. Peace, love and harmony. All those things are real..”
“I don’t believe you,” she said, looking around.
“Well, it’s true.”
“If you’re going to stay in the U.S. you better learn how to use the gun I gave you, because you won’t last long, if you can’t defend yourself.”
“Why would someone want to harm me? You’re the only person I’ve met, so far.”
“Wow. You really are clueless,” she sighed, shaking her head. “People don’t have to have a reason to kill others. People kill because they like to kill things. That’s what this place is all about. The world is just one big killing field. Red is for blood, white is for death, and blue is for the sky, if you’re lucky enough to see it before you die.”
“That’s terrible, and I don’t want to kill anyone, or anything.”
“Good luck. With that attitude, you won’t last until morning. GET DOWN,” she said, shoving him to the ground. She started shooting and two people fell. She waited to see if any others were coming out of the alley, then said, “Okay, you can get up now.”
“Are they dead?” he asked, looking at the two bodies laying on the street.
“I sure hope so,” she grunted, checking her weapon.
“Why did you kill them?”
“You ask a lot of silly questions,” she said. “Maybe you should come home with me, that way I can give you the score.”
“Score?”
“Yeah. It means I’ll tell you how things in the United States work. It stared a long time ago, when they elected a president who was insane. They called him the orange one, but there were a bunch of presidents before him who were war mongers. There was a lot of money in war and they were all greedy. That was hundreds of years ago, but things got worse around 2029, when the government was run by something called the NRA. Anyway, back then, men were killing kids in schools and mass murders became the norm, because no one would take anyone’s gun away.”
“This is a horror story, right?” he asked.
She laughed out loud. “Maybe. I don’t know how to live any other way, so it’s hard to tell.”
“There is another way.”
“Not here there isn’t,” she said.
“How can you stand it?”
“Stand what?”
“All the death?”
“What else is there?” she asked. “This is how we live.”
“You don’t have to live this way,” he insisted.
“You just got here. There IS no other way. DOWN,” she yelled, shooting off to the side. “Stay down,” she whispered. Then she started shooting again. “Okay, you can get up.”
“There’s more to life than killing,” he said.
“Like what?” she asked, still looking down the street.
“Lots of things. What about love? Kindness, or gentleness.”
“You should hear yourself,” she giggled. “You sound crazy.”
“Those things exist,” he said.
“Look. Maybe those things exist where you come from. But death is what exists here, and I’m HERE, so this is what exists for me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m almost eighteen. I’ve had a long life. I’ve only been shot once, and that was by my little brother, on the day he got his gun. He was killed in front of our house when he was seven. He was cute and funny. But those things won’t keep anyone alive.”
“He was just a child.”
“Children die in America every single day. LOTS of children die here…every single day.”
“You killed five people in fifteen minutes.”
“You’re welcome.”
“That’s not a good thing.”
“It’s not?” she asked. “You’d rather be dead?”
“I wouldn’t rather be dead. Of course not.”
“Then, you’re welcome.”
“Thank you,” he said, softly. “Does this thing have a safety?”
Photo: Hizir Kaya
Unsplash
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