by Chad Kultgen
People in every kind of camouflage apparel James could imagine filled both the outdoor and indoor sectors of the gun show. The sight wasn’t entirely foreign to James. Many people in Kansas were avid hunters, outdoorsmen, militia members, and recreational gun owners. It was a culture he was familiar with, and he didn’t feel out of place at the Flagstaff show at all. As he meandered through the different booths he waited for some indication from God that he should approach a specific booth or person.
James passed booths that sold Nazi and Confederate memorabilia, night vision goggles, and self-published manuals with titles like Surviving the Race War. Then, as he started down a new aisle of booths, he saw what he knew he was meant to see, the reason he had been directed to this place. At the far end of the aisle, he saw a banner depicting Jesus reaching down through the clouds and handing a man a rifle. Under the image were the words It’s your God-given right. The image reminded James a little of the paining that hung above Pastor Preston’s desk. Beneath the banner was a booth operated by one man with various handguns in glass cases. James knew instinctively that this was the booth he needed to visit. This was the sign he had been waiting for.
As James approached the booth and started looking at some of the guns on display, the man behind the counter said, “Hey there, partner. I’m Corey. How can I hook you up today?”
There was only one God. He was very real and He was the father of Jesus Christ. Any and all other modes of belief in anything supernatural, including major religions or things like witchcraft and horoscopes, were punishable by an eternity in hell. God was loving, but he was also capable of raining down immense suffering and pain to his enemies, and he wanted his Christian followers to have the same capabilities, as they were made in his image. To this end, God invented the gun, and made it an indisputable right that any Christian American could own and carry one. Science was fine, as long as it was used to make things to destroy your enemies. It was a waste of time and resources to pursue scientific exploration of things like space and climate change. These were things over which only God could have any influence. Sex was something God ordered to only take place between a man and his wife—not a man and his husband, a man and his wife. It was meant to be an act that produced children, and trying to tamper with God’s plan by using any form of contraception, or by denying a man his God-given right to procreate through disobedience as a wife, was a sin punishable by an eternity in hell. Children, especially male children, were precious. They were the vessels by which any man could pass on his legacy, including his faith in Jesus and his collection of firearms. These were things that Corey understood to be true.
James told Corey that he didn’t really know what he was looking for, but he was compelled to come to the gun show. Corey said, “Okay. Have you ever owned a gun before?”
James told Corey that he had not, and he wasn’t exactly sure he was supposed to get one.
Corey said, “Well, you came to a gun show, partner. What other reason would you have to be here?”
James cursed himself for not picking up the inherent logic in God’s initial sign. Why would God have sent him to a gun show if he didn’t intend for him to get a gun? The road could be a dangerous place, and although God could obviously protect James in a variety of ways, he clearly wanted James to be able to protect himself. This was a lesson that God was trying to teach him. James told Corey that he was certainly open to the idea of getting a gun, but he didn’t know much about them.
Corey said, “Okay. No problem. What’s your primary reason for getting one today? Self-defense? Recreation?”
James explained that he wasn’t really sure about that. He just knew that it was time to get a gun.
Corey said, “Well, I can’t argue with you there, friend. When the good Lord says it’s time, then by God, it’s time, right?”
Corey slapped James on the back, and James felt at ease with him. He wondered if Corey was possibly the third angel on his trip. His last statement, about obeying God when he says it’s time, made James feel that Corey was very likely that angel. Corey said, “Well, partner, I’ve got all kinds of stuff here today. You want a pistol? A revolver? A rifle? A shotgun? AR-15?”
James explained that he thought a pistol would be best suited for him personally. Corey said, “All right, I hear you. So what kind of price range are we talking here?”
James told Corey that he didn’t have a lot of money, but the thing that drew him to that specific booth was the image of Jesus Christ providing for one of his children. At this Corey said, “Hallelujah, brother. Now you know I can’t just give anything away, but I can damn sure help out a fellow Christian. I mean, that’s what God put us on this earth to do, right? Help out other Christians and tell everyone else to go to hell.” Corey laughed and slapped James on the back again. James laughed, too. He couldn’t help but like Corey, and it was easy to imagine him as a kind of rambunctious, rough-around-the-edges angel, up in heaven making the other angels laugh just as he was doing here on Earth.
Corey took a gun out of the case and handed it to James. It was the first time James had ever held a gun. It was heavier than he expected. It felt solid. Corey said, “That there, my friend, is the Glock 17. Most popular gun in the great country of the United States of America. Police use it. Military use it. Families use it. Sportsmen use it. Unfortunately, criminals use it, too. It’s got a decent weight, it’s dependable, and it’s really just an all-around solid weapon.”
James asked Corey how much the gun cost. Corey said, “I usually let that one go for five, but you’re a Christian, and I can tell you’re not bullshitting me about that, so I’m not gonna bullshit you about this. I can let you have that weapon right now for four fifty, and that’s a special Christian discount.”
James explained that he was on a very tight budget and he wouldn’t be able to afford anything that costly. He asked Corey if he possibly had any cheaper guns. Corey said, “I do, but I’m telling you, that’s the weapon you want. That’s the weapon Jesus wants you to have. The cheaper weapons are mostly used, and they’re a little tricky sometimes. I just wouldn’t feel right sending you off with one of them. You know, it’s your first weapon. I want to know that I’m sending you off with a good weapon you can depend on, that doesn’t take a lot of know-how to operate.”
James agreed with Corey that he needed a gun that was simple to use, but maintained that he honestly couldn’t afford to purchase a gun for four hundred and fifty dollars. Corey asked, “Well, what’s your price range exactly?”
James knew he needed to save as much as possible for the rest of his trip, not knowing how long he’d be in Los Angeles or if he’d need to find a job once he got there. He also wanted to be honest with Corey. So he told Corey that he was comfortable spending around three hundred dollars. Corey said, “You’re driving a hard bargain, and I know times are tough with money because of the current Muslim administration and the libtards ruining congress. So here’s what I can do for you. I say four fifty, you say three hundred. What do you say we meet in the middle? Three seventy-five?”
This was a stretch for James, but Corey had treated him fairly in the negotiations, and James knew that this could be a test from God. Not accepting the offer might be a failure of the test, so James agreed. Corey said, “Great. Just great. I’m so happy to be able to give you your first weapon. I think you’ll really enjoy it. Now, I just need your ID to get things started.”
James handed him his driver’s license and Corey said, “Oh, out of state. That’s a tiny setback. I know this is probably a serious pain in the old backside, but we have certain gun laws that require a waiting period and a rudimentary background check to make sure you’re not a felon. You’re not, right?”
James indicated that he was not.
Corey said, “Okay, good. Usually at shows we can get around those things, but lately some of those libtards I was talking about earlier have really screwed things up for regular folks like me who sell firearms, especially where out-of-s
tate weapon purchases are concerned. They’ve got their panties in a bunch over it, because some guy somewhere bought a gun in a different state from where he lived and then he shot up a 7-Eleven or something. I don’t know. Some bullshit. Anyway, we’re trying to watch our p’s and q’s for the time being, so we’re doing the background checks on out-of-staters and blah, blah, blah. I have to tell you legally that it can take up to seven days, but honestly we get people processed in two, max. I know you’re a good guy, but that ain’t good enough for those pansies in Washington. And any dealer at this show will tell you the same. So I completely understand if you want to walk, but I’m telling you, you’re not gonna get a better deal on a weapon like this at any other booth here, or at any gun shop in the country, and that’s my hand to God.”
James told Corey that he understood there were things that were beyond his control, and he appreciated the discount, so he’d be glad to wait a few days. With that, Corey handed him some paperwork to fill out and said, “Now, I just need a ten percent down payment to hold the weapon for you, and then you can either pick it up back here on the last day of the show, or I can have it waiting for you at my store, which is honestly a lot more convenient. Parking here, I’m sure you dealt with it, is a devil’s dingle sometimes.”
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.
chapter
twenty-five
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 religions 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 fragil
e 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.”
