“Okay, honey. Stay safe. Bring your protection with you.”
“I will, Mom. Don’t worry. This university is rated one of the safest in the nation.” And so, Madison and Adam Dunlap saw their only son off to college. They knew he’d be safe. The government provided every high school senior with revolvers to keep them safe when they ventured out into the world. Who knew what firearm-toting lunatics they’d come across out there?
Everyone in the Dunlap’s neighborhood had a gun of some sort. Well, except for crazy old Mrs. Gewehr. But she was biased. Her daughter’s name had been in the Firearm Obituaries eight years ago. Every month since, Mrs. Gewehr had gone door-to-door through the neighborhood, handing out countless anti-gun pamphlets. Everyone nodded politely and took a flyer when she came to their residence, but once the door closed, muffled laughter could be heard, along with the unmistakable sound of a paper shredder. It was ridiculous. Here was this mother, advertising a gun-free nation, when everyone knew that if her daughter had brought her gun to the diner with her, she would have lived. 

The Dunlaps sat at their dining-room table, eating a dinner of fried chicken and caesar salad. Adam sat across from Madison, polishing his double-barreled shotgun. Madison watched him run the cloth lovingly over the gun’s body, hypnotized by the repetitive motion.
“Where would we be today without that?”
Adam followed her gaze to the object in his hands.“I reckon we’d still be in this house,” he answered in his gruff voice.
Madison slapped him playfully with her cloth napkin. “No, I mean, where would our society be if the government hadn’t added the Need to Bear Arms amendment?”
“I imagine it would be something like the late teens. Rampant gun violence. School shootings without any student able to defend themselves. With the way things are now, the aggressors become the victims. Thanks to the government’s mandatory provision of firearms, the perpetrators will be riddled with bullet holes before they can get off a single shot.”

The Dunlap’s son, Asher, stared out the train window, watching the scenery go by. At the moment, the glass screen separated him from nothing but endless hayfields. Asher sighed and stared at the gun in his lap. He mindlessly opened and closed the empty chamber. Before graduating, he had only ever possessed a BB gun, although his dad had let Asher hold his shotgun on occasion.
He was brought out of his stupor when a young woman sat in the seat across from him. Asher shifted around in his seat, uncomfortable.
“Hey,” he said, not making eye contact.
The girl smiled. “Hi! I’m Ellen. I saw you sitting all by yourself and thought you might want some company.”
“Oh, thanks, but I’m fine. I like being alone. It gives me time to think.”
“Really? Weird. I hate being by myself. If I’m away from people for more than a couple hours I’m basically crawling up the walls with boredom.”
Asher gave a slight smile.
“Hey, where are you going?” Ellen asked.
“What?”
“Like, why are you on this train?”
“Oh. I’m going to college. I graduated a couple months ago.”
“Cool! Where are you going to school?”
Asher told her.
“No way! Me too! Oh, I hope we’re in the same classes!”
“Same,” Asher said, momentarily forgetting about his gun. And he meant it.

Over the semester, Asher and Ellen became inseparable. They shared a couple of classes, and would often help each other with homework. One weekend, they went to the shooting range downtown and practiced their marksmanship. Ellen had a pistol, its black body sleek and deadly. Asher thought it was just as beautiful as its owner.
Ellen saw him looking at her and smiled, then turned back to her target. Three gunshots rang through the air. When Asher looked at the target, he saw three, smoking holes, clustered tightly together in the center of the target.
“Nice shot!” he exclaimed, and gave Ellen a high-five.
“Thanks. Your turn!” Ellen pushed him in front of the shooting window. Asher widened his stance, feeling naked without the usual safety goggles and earmuffs. Once you reached adulthood, you couldn’t wear any safety equipment that would give you an unfair advantage over fellow gun-bearers.
Asher stared down the range, eyeing his target. He raised his revolver to shoulder height. He adjusted his stance. He regripped the gun. This would be the maiden shot of his gun. He had to make it count. It was a common belief that the outcome of the first shot from a new gun was comparable to how that stage of owner’s life would go. A good shot would guarantee good luck through the years until they got upgraded to your next gun. A bad shot, well, Asher preferred not to think about it.
Taking several slow, deep breaths, Asher closed his right eye. He moved the barrel of his gun slightly down and to the left.

Inhale

Exhale

Inhale

Exhale

Shoot

The gunshot rang through the air. Asher looked unbelievingly at the target.
“Ooooh, better luck next time!” Ellen said. She saw Asher’s pale face. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
“That was my first shot with this gun,” he choked out.
“Come on, you don’t seriously believe that superstition, do you? It’s ridiculous!”
Asher looked down at his feet, uncomfortable. “Can we just go?” he asked.
Ellen took the hint and dropped the subject. “Sure. Let’s go get something to eat.” She slung an arm around his slumped shoulders, pistol still in hand.
“Sure. Let’s.”

After lunch, Ellen suggested they go bowling. Asher resignedly agreed. She hated to see her only friend in such a bad mood. She could practically see the little rainclouds over his head. So they went bowling. Ellen scored terribly, but she didn’t mind. She could see Asher’s mood improving with every turn he took, and by the time they walked out of the alley, he was positively beaming.
“That was so fun! Oh, my gosh, why haven’t we done this earlier! We should totally do this every weekend!”
“Totally! And we can-” Ellen was cut off as someone behind her grabbed the collar of her denim jacket. “Hey, watch where you’re grabbing, bozo! You could’ve choked me!” She reached behind her and pried the hand off, then turned to face the person it was attached to. “You could’ve...” Ellen trailed off as she took in the hulking figure in front of her.
“You owe me money, big time, Ell. It’s past time you pay up.” His voice was pitched for only Ellen to hear, but Asher picked up on situation.
“Oi! You keep your mitts off her!” he shouted.
“You got yourself a boyfriend, Ell? Huh? Someone to protect you?”
Ellen spat at his feet. “I don’t need anyone to protect me. I’ve got this.” She brandished her pistol proudly.
The man gave a booming laugh. “What, that tiny thing? It’s no match for this baby.” He reached over his shoulder and grabbed the gun that had been slung over his back. It was an assault rifle. Ellen didn’t bat an eyelid. “You’re gonna pay, or you’re gonna meet the business end my rifle.”
People who’d been walking by on the streets were starting to stop and watch what was going on. They summed up the situation in their heads pretty quickly. Two young adults with tiny little handguns, pissed off man with a rifle. The tension in the air was palpable. Excitement started electrifying the atmosphere. A gunfight was coming. The people could feel it.
“Dude, I’m not going to give you any money. You’re a swine, and pigs don’t get paid. Hate to break it to ya.”
“Ellen, we probably shouldn’t be engaging this guy,” Asher whispered in her ear. But it was too late.
The man c***ed back the hammer of his rifle. Ellen rolled out of the way just as the shot went off. She got off a couple shots on him, but she was unsteady on her feet, and she missed. Red in the face now, the man walked towards her. Ellen desperately tried to fire her pistol, but between the firing range and her three failed shots, the chamber was empty.
The man grabbed her by her arm and threw her to the ground. He placed one, large booted foot on her chest and aimed the rifle right between her eyes. He c***ed the chamber again, so intent on his prey that he didn’t notice the almost imperceptible flash of movement in his peripheral vision. His finger squeezed the trigger, and he felt the comforting backfire against his shoulder.
In the next instant, his eyes took in the scene. The pathetic boy was lying on top of Ellen. His mouth was open, blood trickling out of it, his eyes glazed and rolled back in his head. Blood was blossoming on his chest through his button-down shirt.
Ellen scrambled to her feet and screamed as the body slid off of her.
“ASHER!” she wailed. “No no no nononononono!” She looked up at the man with bloodshot eyes. “You monster!”
The man stepped back and looked at the gruesome picture. “I will consider the anguish you feel in this moment and the guilt you will feel forever more payment enough.” Then he walked away.
Ellen held Asher’s body and sobbed. All around her, the crowd was breaking up, muttering in disappointment. There wasn’t much of a shoot-out at all. Only one dead, and pathetic college kid at that.

Madison sat back in her garden, wiping her dirty hands on her pants. She patted her back pocket, reassured by feeling the comfort her gun gave her. Then she went back inside. Adam was sitting in his recliner, reading the newspaper.
“Anything actually newsworthy in there?” Madison said jokingly.
“Nope. Just the usual. A stray shot here, and couple gunfights there. Oh, our team won the championship.”
“What! No way! That’s great! And for your information, totally newsworthy.”
Adam grinned at his wife’s reaction.
“How far are you into that? We need to leave soon for dinner.”
“Almost there. I’m at the Firearm Obits,” he responded.
“Well, hurry up, we don’t want to be late. Our reservation is set for-” Madison stopped when she looked at her husband’s face. “What is it, honey?”
Adam wordlessly gave her the paper. He watched her eyes flick back and forth, taking in the hundreds of meaningless names. But Adam had seen it. The name. The one he had never even thought about seeing in this section of the paper. A familiar pattern of letters in the endless, thoughtless sea of names.
He knew instantly when Madison had reached it. Her hand went to her mouth. Her eyes got wide. A strangled wheeze came out of her mouth. And then she collapsed into his arms, heaving sobs racking her body. Adam hugged her and felt tears of his own trickle down his cheeks.
“Not my baby! Not my boy! Anyone else, not my Ash!” she wailed.
The neighbors heard her laments through the thick walls of their own home. Oh, well, they thought. Another one bites the dust.

“Okay, honey. Stay safe. Bring your protection with you.”
“I will, Mom. Don’t worry. This university is rated one of the safest in the nation.” And so, Ava and Mark Anderson saw their only daughter off to college. They knew she’d be safe. The government provided every high school senior with revolvers to keep them safe when they ventured out into the world. Who knew what firearm-toting lunatics they’d come across out there?
Everyone in the Anderson’s neighborhood had a gun of some sort. Well, except for the crazy old Dunlaps. But they were biased. Their son’s name had been in the Firearm Obituaries five years ago. Every month since, Mr. and Mrs. Dunlap had gone door-to-door through the neighborhood, handing out countless anti-gun pamphlets. Everyone nodded politely and took a flyer when they came to their residence, but once the door closed, muffled laughter could be heard, along with the unmistakable sound of a paper shredder. It was ridiculous. Here were these parents, advertising a gun-free nation, when everyone knew that if their son had fired his gun at the man who killed him, he would have lived.