Strange Animals (18 page)

James finished his paperwork, handed Corey the down payment, and agreed to pick the gun up at Corey's store in a few days. He left the gun show comfortable in how he was progressing down God's path for him. He knew that God was providing him with a tool that would no doubt be very useful on his journey, a tool that God wanted him to have, and he was reminded of 2 Samuel 23:6–7:
But the godless are like thorns to be thrown away, for they tear the hand that touches them. One must use iron tools to chop them down; they will be totally consumed by fire.

Karen walked down
the cereal aisle. She had been craving Cinnamon Toast Crunch for the past week, and there was never enough in her parents' house. When her mother offered to get some more on her next grocery run, Karen knew that wouldn't be soon enough to satisfy her, so she decided to go herself. She loaded her cart with seven boxes of the cereal, leaving two for any other customers, and then checked the status of her donations on her phone. The site had collected just under twelve million dollars, and time was starting to slip away. She was relieved that her plan was working so well, but she was forcing herself to face the serious prospect that she'd have to undergo an abortion relatively soon. Even if she'd been able to avoid developing any significant emotional connection to the fetus growing inside her, she knew that just the sheer amount of time she'd been pregnant would
make it harder to endure than if she had dealt with it when she originally wanted to.

She sometimes fantasized that Paul would go with her to the clinic, drive her back to their apartment when it was over, and spend a few days with her afterward, allowing them time to reconcile. She could imagine a future in which she published her paper or maybe even an entire book about the details of the ordeal, became a known public intellectual who would be asked to weigh in on a great variety of social issues, rekindled her relationship with Paul where it left off, and lived a life that was full of meaning for herself. She imagined this life more and more as the days ticked away. It became a kind of goal, even though it was more a fantasy than anything.

As Karen put her phone back in her pocket and headed to get some hummus and Cheese Nips, she brushed one of her breasts with the back of her hand and it came away slightly wet. She looked down to see that both of her breasts were leaking through her shirt. She had experienced many things during the pregnancy that she found to be disgusting. Vaginal discharge of varying viscosities, constant sweating, large and belabored bowel movements, stretch marks, skin so dry that it sometimes flaked off around her growing belly—and the fundamental fact that there was a living thing moving inside her—were just a few things that Karen found unsettling, but this new development almost made her vomit as she left the cereal aisle of the grocery store.

Turning the corner, she very nearly ran into another woman pushing a cart in the opposite direction. Karen said, “Sorry,” to which the woman replied, “You
are
sorry. I know who you are, and I have to say that I think what you're doing is child abuse. It's just the worst thing a mother could ever do. I mean, do you even have a soul?”

God, the soul, and the spirit were all just names people gave to the same energy that flows through everything. Specific re
ligions were all wrong, in that this energy that binds all living things wasn't sentient and didn't create anything. The energy was just always there. Space, and everything beyond our planet, might be interesting to scientists, but it would never have any real impact on the day-to-day life of the average person, so it was a waste of time to think about. Sex was fine, and it didn't have to happen only within the confines of a legal relationship, but people needed to be responsible about it, much more responsible than they were in contemporary society. Too many women had children because they weren't careful, and too many kids were neglected or parented improperly, and it was destroying the fabric of society. Having a child was something to be done only after a great deal of consideration, and raising a child was among the most important things a person could do. Raising a child meant bringing another person into the world and giving it the tools it would need to do the same someday. Having a child was the only purpose for which people existed. These were things that the woman in the grocery store understood to be true.

Karen said, “Well, luckily, I'm not a mother, so you should have no problem with it.”

The woman in the grocery store said, “Yes, you are. You're carrying a human child right now. That makes you a mother.”

Karen said, “Actually, it's delivering the child that makes you a mother legally. So I'm not a mother, and I very likely never will be.”

The woman in the grocery store said, “You're disgusting,” and then pushed her cart past Karen's, making sure to hit it as she pressed forward. Karen shook her head and wondered if anyone else in the grocery store would feel the need to chastise her while she was there. She made her way to the snack aisle, put a few boxes of Cheese Nips in her cart, and got some hummus. She checked out without another incident, but when she left the store, she was surprised to find that a group of a dozen or so paparazzi had gathered outside the exit. They all called her name
while they snapped pictures of her, their flashing cameras disorienting her.

Karen was almost used to seeing groups of people gathered both in support and protest wherever she went. She didn't enjoy the experience, but she understood it. Her purpose was to engage people, to make them think, to make them debate the legitimacy of the pro-life forces in America, and they were having that debate in the context of supporting or attacking her. But being hounded by paparazzi was a different thing entirely. The flashes of the cameras and the urgent and aggressive tone of the paparazzi were all too much for Karen. She covered her face instinctually as she made her way to her car, got in the driver's seat, and started the engine. She wanted desperately to leave the situation, but the paparazzi swarmed in front of her car, still yelling at her and taking pictures. She honked the horn and moved the car forward a few inches, which got them to move enough for her to drive out of the parking lot.

She drove faster than she should have, and when she stopped at her first red light, she found that she was breathing heavy and sweating. She looked back over her shoulder to make sure she wasn't being followed, and in that moment, she began to understand that her life was no longer her own. This was something she had not anticipated. She started crying, aware that she had no real sense of what further impact this all might have on her life. She had no way of predicting what would happen next, how far she might actually be forced to remove herself from society.

Once she was back at her parents' house, she realized that she'd left the groceries she'd paid for in her cart just outside the grocery store. She cursed herself for being so fragile and allowing such a simple thing as a group of photographers to affect her that much. She walked into the kitchen where her mother was having coffee. Lynn could tell something was wrong with her daughter. She said, “Honey, are you all right?”

Karen said, “No. I'm not. A lady at the grocery store stopped
me in the aisle and insulted me, which was weird, and then when I was leaving, there was a group of paparazzi taking pictures and shouting at me. I got so flustered that I left all my groceries in the parking lot. I just kind of lost my mind for a minute. It was really scary. Mom, this is just . . .”

Lynn said, “Too much to handle? If it is, you can still change your mind.”

Karen said, “I don't know. No. I'm not changing my mind. But I think it might be better for me to kind of hang around here.”

Lynn said, “Did any of them follow you here? You know your father and I don't want those photographers camped out in our front yard.”

Karen said, “I don't know if they did or not, but if they could find me at a grocery store, I'm sure they can find me here, Mom.”

Lynn said, “You may be right. Let's hope that doesn't happen. Do you want me to go get the groceries?”

Karen said, “No. I don't want you and Dad involved in this at all if it can be helped. I'll call Tanya or something.”

An hour later,
Tanya showed up at Karen's parents' house with several boxes of groceries. Karen said, “Thank you so much.”

Tanya said, “No problem. So it was pretty bad today?”

Karen said, “Fucking terrible. I've never dealt with anything like that. They were like animals or something. Tanya, they stood in front of my fucking car yelling at me while I was trying to drive away. I didn't tell anyone I was going to that grocery store. They just showed up. That was an hour ago, and look at this shit.” Karen held up her phone and showed Tanya a Christian watchdog website that had posted a very unflattering photo of Karen that afternoon as she was crying and trying to leave the grocery store. The caption read, “Devil Mom Tries for Sympathy with Fake Tears.”

Tanya said, “Yeah, but that's one of those dipshit sites like Americans for Prosperity or World News Daily. Who cares?”

Karen said, “I care. Those sites might be the only ones running captions like that, but the photos are all over the Internet. I never wanted my face to be part of this thing. My identity is totally beside the point, and it's tainting what I'm doing. Beyond that, I don't know if I can leave my parents' house again. What kind of fucking existence is that?”

Tanya said, “It's the one you made for yourself.”

Karen said, “My mom was saying it's not too late just end this. I know it's crazy, but that doesn't sound like such a bad idea anymore.”

Tanya said, “You're a real piece of shit if you end this now.”

Karen said, “What? I thought you'd be into that idea.”

Tanya said, “Seriously? You're being a pussy. Would you want to quit if no one knew it was you? If you were still anonymous?”

Karen said, “No. Of course not. I'm saying that quitting is starting to sound better and better, because I'm no longer anonymous. That's the reason I would quit if I was going to.”

Tanya said, “So you'd be fine to get everyone just as riled up and pissed off as they are right now, just as long as you're not the one they're blaming?”

Karen said, “That was always my plan. The idea was the only thing I wanted out there. I never wanted to be out there with it myself.”

Tanya said, “But the idea
is
out there, and you are, too. You can't just stop because you're experiencing some personal blowback. You know how I feel about this, but you have to stick it out now. You have to prove your point, and that means following it through to the end. If you don't, you'll still have gone through all the shit, but without getting the result you were looking for. You can't change the facts: you got kicked out of school, you lost your boyfriend, and now you're holed up at your parents' house, completely robbed of your privacy. All of that has already happened.
Things can't really get much worse. Or they could, I guess, but you get what I'm saying. Things are not good. Don't let everything you've gone through be for nothing. At least get to the end.”

Karen hugged Tanya. “You're the best fucking friend of all time. Jesus.”

Tanya said, “Every person has looked at the world and wanted to change it. But most of us just hope it will change on its own.”

James walked into
Corey's gun store, which was called Right to Bear. Corey said, “Hey there, partner. What'd I tell you? Two days. No more, no less. You're all set. I appreciate you taking the time to wait. I'll toss in a box of ammo and a cleaning kit because you were patient about it.”

James thanked him, and said that he'd also like some instruction on how to use the gun.

Corey said, “You never even fired a weapon before?”

James explained that he hadn't.

Corey said, “Well, you're in luck today, friend. We got a range here, too. I'll be happy to take you back and show you everything you need to know.”

James paid for his new gun, and then Corey gave him some eye protection and earplugs. Then Corey pointed up to the wall
behind the register and said, “Who do you want to fire some rounds into this afternoon?”

Taped up to the wall were several paper targets. Some were nondescript black silhouettes, others were images of generic criminals pointing guns toward potential victims. Others were more Middle Eastern in aesthetic, featuring men in turbans with AK-47s or rocket launchers. And there were several targets featuring the images of various military and political figures. There was a paper target of Osama bin Laden with one of his eyes shot out, as well as a cartoon version of Bin Laden at the bottom of the sea. There were two different Vladimir Putin targets, one featuring him on a horse, the other in a business suit. There was an image of Hillary Clinton smoking a cigar. There were three different Barack Obama targets, including one that had the words
This Is for Benghazi
printed across his face in a graffiti style. James selected a standard, faceless black silhouette.

Corey said, “That's a good one. Standard, no frills. I like it.” As Corey went to the bin where the targets were kept he said, “What do you think of that Karen Holloway?”

James explained that he didn't spend too much time thinking about her.

Corey said, “Good strategy. Doesn't deserve a second's worth of thought. I mean, can you believe that little piece of trash? Don't get me wrong, though. You know what I'm saying?”

James had never thought of Karen Holloway in a romantic or sexual way, because he knew she wasn't Christian, and for James that eliminated any possibility of finding her attractive. She was a person who was actively disobeying God and very clearly attempting to derail his glorious plan. She was in league with Lucifer, which meant that she was only an enemy to James, nothing more.

When James failed to respond to the innuendo, Corey said, “Well, whatever floats your boat, man, as long as it's women.”

James assured Corey that he was only interested in women,
but that Karen Holloway was not the type of woman he'd ever be interested in. Corey said, “Fair enough, boss. I mean, I can imagine givin' it to her, but I can't imagine being in the same room with her, so I guess that'd make it pretty tough. Anyway, let's head on back and get you set up.”

Corey instructed James to put on his protective eyewear and his earplugs, as well as a pair of soundproof ear muffs, which Corey called “cans.” Corey then led James into a small room and closed the door behind them. Corey had to yell to James in order to be heard through the various ear protection they both were wearing. Corey said, “Now, when I open this other door, we'll be in the range, and it's kind of loud. We got a guy in there right now firing off a Desert Eagle, in fact, so it's gonna be real loud. Takes a second to get used to weapons going off around you, but you'll be fine. You ready?”

James nodded, and Corey opened the door to the range. James jumped a little at the first sound of a gun being fired and couldn't stop himself with each new shot that was fired. Corey said, “Told ya. Nothing to be afraid of, though. You'll be fine. We haven't even had a suicide in here for over six years.”

Corey took James to an open lane. It happened to be lane number seven, and James took this to be a sign from God that purchasing this gun from this man was the right thing to do, the next step in God's plan. James had thought that Corey might have been an angel, but his comments about being sexually attracted to Karen Holloway made it seem far more likely that Corey was just another person, like James, whom God was using in his plan, and there was nothing wrong with that.

Corey clipped the paper target into two brackets that were connected to a long wire running the length of the room. He pushed a button and the brackets moved away, taking the target along. Corey said, “We'll put her at ten yards and see how you do,” then opened the box of ammunition and took the gun out of its case. He said, “Okay, let's get down some basics. This is your
new weapon.” Corey slid the top part of the gun backward, and it clicked into place. James had seen a gun set this way before, with the slide locked back, in movies when characters ran out of ammunition. Corey said, “All right, this part here is the slide. You can lock it back like this with this lever. You always want to check your chamber, this little part here, to make sure you don't have a live round in it. So you lock it back like this, then you load your clip. I assume you haven't done that, either?”

When James nodded again, Corey pushed a button on the front part of the handle, and a clip slid out. He said, “This little button here is your clip release. You just push it and the clip comes out.” Corey put the gun down and grabbed a few bullets from the box. He pushed one of the bullets down into the clip and then another. He said, “To load your clip, you just take a bullet, make sure the back, this flat part, is facing toward the back of the clip, push it down, and slide it back. Then you take another one and you do the same thing on top of the first one. So on and so forth until you get ten of them in there. Used to be that you could get a fifteen-round clip pretty easy, but times have changed. The libtards made it so we only get ten now. Anyway, here, give it a try.”

James took the clip from Corey and pushed a bullet in. He looked at Corey for approval. Corey gave him the thumbs-up and said, “Keep going. Do the rest of the clip.” James loaded a few more bullets into the clip before it began to get prohibitively difficult to push the bullet down far enough to be able to slide it all the way back.

Corey said, “It gets harder the closer you get to ten, because the spring in the clip gets pushed down more and it gets tighter, but if you ever forget how many you have in there already, just look at the back of the clip. There are little holes so you can see how many you got in there.”

James saw that he only had eight rounds in the clip and forced another two in, hurting his fingers slightly in the process. James
handed it back to Corey, who picked up the gun and said, “Okay, now comes the easy part. You just pop it in like so.” Corey slid the clip in and James heard it click. Corey said, “Then you push that lever down.” As Corey pushed the lever down, the gun's slide jolted forward. Corey said, “And you got a round chambered, and now you're ready to kill a pregnant demonic slut. Come on over here.”

Corey led James over to the front of the lane and put the gun in his hand. James noticed that the bullets made it even heavier than before. Corey explained how to stand and how to hold the gun, then said, “But the most important part of shooting is learning to avoid anticipating the kickback. See, every time you fire, that slide blows back and your weapon will automatically eject the spent casing. Most people, the first time they shoot, have a great first shot. Then every shot after that is worse and worse, because they lean into the gun in anticipation of that kickback. You have to just get that out of your mind. You want to line up your sights so that the middle dot is between the other two, then just squeeze the trigger slowly. Don't pull it. And don't even think about the kickback. Just let it happen. Got it?”

James indicated that he thought he understood and Corey said, “All right, take your first shot, brother.”

James went through the steps Corey had just taught him, raised his gun, targeted the silhouette's head, slowly squeezed the trigger, and nothing happened. He turned around and looked at Corey, who was standing behind him, supervising. Corey said, “Oh, and I forgot the most important thing. You have to click the safety off.” Corey came over and pointed to the safety on the gun. He said, “That little dude right there. Just click it down. That engages the firing pin and you're ready to rock-and-rolla, Ayatollah.”

James disengaged the safety, took aim once again, and slowly squeezed the trigger. This time the gun fired a single shot. James expected the kickback to be much more violent than it was, but
he did close his eyes in reaction to the muzzle flash and the sound, so he was unable to see where his shot went. Corey noticed this and said, “That's all right, brother. You get used to the sound and the muzzle flash and everything. For a first shot, that ain't bad at all.” Corey pointed downrange at the target and said, “You got him in the right boob.”

James looked and saw that indeed there was a small hole in right side of the target's chest. He had missed the spot he was aiming for by maybe eight or ten inches. Corey said, “Keep on going, man. Empty that clip.”

James took aim and fired nine more times. With each shot he felt he got a little bit better at understanding how to shoot. He reloaded his new gun and shot another ten rounds. With each shot his aim got progressively better until he was landing every shot within a few inches of where he was aiming. Corey was impressed. He said, “Damn, boy, you're a natural. I can't believe you've never shot before.”

James felt that Corey was being honest, and he felt sure the only reason God would bless him with the gift of marksmanship was that he would need to use it at some point.