What if?

The misshapen slug of steel lay untouched on the table, a terrifying monster more likely to kill me then anyone I pointed it at. I hated it, hated what it meant about me, what it meant about the world, but mostly about what it meant about me. Was I that scared? That terrified? What the hell was wrong with me? What the hell happened to this country?

Did it start when the “Excusable Homicide” law went national? We all called it the “Pro-Murder Law”. All you had to do was yell out that your life was in danger, and you were justified in shooting anyone. It didn’t matter if the other guy was even doing anything wrong, as long as you felt “threatened”. And, it didn’t matter that most of the victims of this law had dark skin, and the perpetrators, light. It didn’t matter that the murder rate sky-rocketed, or that people violently protested. It didn’t matter because it was legal, and that was enough.

It’s scary out there, now. The ones who toted their side-arms into the grocery store before the law was signed into effect had presaged it all. No one dared leave their homes without protection. As far as I knew, everyone was scared. I stared at the steel lump that my own fear had forced me to buy. After Benny and June, I could no longer take the risk of being without one. Now, I can’t risk picking it up.

Where had it started? I don’t know. All I remember was the Party coming into power. They had dropped their old moniker like a hot potato as soon as they seized the reins. And, why not? They didn’t have any more competition. If they didn’t like an election result, all they had to do was say it was fraudulent, and it was nullified, and then, they could appoint anyone they wanted. It was a real coincidence that they never appointed someone from the other party; at first, they said there were no good opposition candidates, and then, they stopped making excuses. They didn’t have to, anymore. From then on, the way was clear for them to do whatever they wanted. And, they did.

It’s weird that none of the news stations call them out anymore, either. None of them seem to care, now. But they did at first. Almost every station cried against them, against the laws they pushed through, against the judges they appointed, against the policies they eschewed. They called the laws “unconstitutional”, the policies “immoral”. They fought with the power of journalism and in some cases, sarcasm and satire. They don’t do that anymore. The programming changed or disappeared due to “low ratings”, the newscasters changed, attitudes changed. And the criticisms stopped. The State could do no wrong. They were in power “by a mandate from the people.” What remained of the opposition party were cannibals and satan-worshippers. And socialists looking to destroy this country and give it to illegal aliens, but they never explained why illegal aliens would want a decimated country and a failed economy. They never say why the gangs want to kill us, either. But they repeat it all every day, nearly every hour. Aunt Sue believes them, now, along with the rest of my family. It’s all they hear, twenty-four seven. It’s all I hear whenever I flick on the TV. I think I might be the only one that remembers what it was like before, but I stopped caring shortly after I gave up trying to save them. I had more important things to worry about. It’s a dangerous world out there.

It’s still sitting there, at the end of the table. I’m not even sure I could load it right. I’ll probably shoot my toes off if I tried. There wasn’t any instruction manual with the thing, though I guess I’m expected to know the basics. Point. Pull the trigger. Bang. But that’s it. Do I have to clean it every once in a while? Can I let it get dusty? I once owned a replica sword, dull edge. I laid it on some stones over my fireplace for a decoration, and the thing rusted. Looked like rust worms had crawled all over it, leaving thin trails in their wake. I considered cleaning it up and polishing it so it looked new again, but I lost track of it long before I found the time. Will the same thing happen to the slug? What would happen if I tried to fire it, then?

I guess I could take it unloaded. Bluff my way through. But what if I needed it? What if I “threatened” someone? Would I be allowed to shoot someone that threatened me if I threatened them? What if someone else felt threatened by both of us and opened fire? What if that threatened someone else? Where did it all end? What did the law say about that? And, should I risk it with an unloaded weapon?

Did anyone else feel that way? Was anyone else worried about that? Probably not. They probably had no qualms about shooting first if it meant saving their own lives. Some people are like that. Maybe I should look up how to load it, sometime. Maybe there’s a tutorial on how to aim and fire, too. I don’t know.

Maybe I don’t need milk that bad. Maybe it can wait for tomorrow. I could probably make the week without it. It’s not supposed to be good for you after a certain age, anyway. Right? Looks like rain, too. Don’t want to get drenched. So, maybe tomorrow. Maybe next week. Besides, I don’t want to go out for just one thing, right? I’ll make a list. It’s not worth the risk, otherwise.

Right?