Page 32 of So Far Gone

In fact, after discovering the pointlessness of air riflewarning shots, Kinnickhadshot two raccoons, in their waddling striped-tail asses, the feisty leader who always hissed at him, and the poor guy with the battered ear. He could tell itreallyhurt, too. And, mission accomplished, after that, the pack had limped and hobbled away (pellets embedded in their furry asses) and had never returned, Kinnick eventually finding the loose floorboard where they were getting in and patching it.

“I hate raccoons,” Chuck said. “They killed my neighbor’s chickens. I would’ve shot every one of them right between their little black eyes, and I would’ve enjoyed it.” Chuck shook his head, as if the raccoons had taken Kinnick’s grandchildren. He turned the gun over in his hand. “Look, this isn’t much different than that. Well, except totally different.”

“Chuck, I really don’t think—”

“Relax. The last thing I want is you shooting anyone. But since you’re going to be my only backup there today, I need you to know how to handle this thing.”

“Backup? What are you—” Kinnick couldn’t even finish the question.

“We’re going in. You and me. Get your grandkids out of Six Flags Reichstag.” He nodded at the flat-roofed sheriff’s office. “If Captain Fat Ass back there won’t help us, then we’ll do it ourselves.”

Kinnick couldn’t help wondering if Chuck’s courage (or was it foolhardiness?) had to do with Lucy. If he wanted Rhys to go back and tell her what a brave hero her old boyfriend had been on this adventure. “Look, of course I want to get the kids, too, but...” Kinnick nodded at the gun. “Not like that.”

“Rhys. I promise. You’re not going to shoot anyone. But these are the same guys who hit you in the face with a leather sap yesterday. I’d be a stupid asshole if I didn’t at least show you how to handle this thing and give you some way to protect yourself. And I might be an asshole, but I am not stupid.”

He put the gun in Kinnick’s hand. “Open palm, index finger off to the right, outside the trigger guard. Good. Now close your other three fingers and thumb around the grip. Excellent.”

“This is a terrible idea.” The gun was cool, weighted toward the front.

“It’s a simple .22 Glock, easy to aim and fire. Easy to secure.”

“Chuck, I don’t—”

“You want your grandkids back?”

“Of course I do!”

“You want to wait two weeks until we can find your daughter and get a writ?”

“Of course not. But I don’t want them to get hurt!”

Chuck made an exasperated, grumbling noise. “This is what I can never seem to explain to you squishy liberals.This iswhyyou learn to use a gun!So. That. Nobody. Gets hurt!Jesus, you people. You’re likeLucy. I gave her a gun for her birthday once, and she told me to shove it up my ass. I promise, you’re not going to need it today, but I’d feel a whole lot better if you at least learned how to hold it. So that we don’t go in there holding our dicks.”

Kinnick sighed. “Fine.”

“Okay. At present, this gun doesnothave a round in the chamber. It isn’t loaded and it isn’t cocked. Now, there are a few more steps to this than there are shooting raccoons with a pellet gun. First, grab that magazine.”

Rhys reached into the box and removed the magazine, which looked like a heavy metal PEZ dispenser. A single bullet was poking out of the top.

“Slide that into the grip of the gun.”

Kinnick did.

“Now see that little lever by your thumb? That’s the magazine release. Click that and remove the mag.”

Kinnick did.

“Now slide it back in.”

Kinnick did. He marveled at the balanced weight of the gun when it was loaded like this. It felt so intentional, so well designed. Suddenly, he pictured that goateed thug swinging his blackjack and he imagined pulling this handgun out and pointing at his fat smug fa—

Jesus!The shiver that went through his arm! The power! Just holding it, Kinnick felt a rush that he didn’t entirely trust... but that he rather liked. That word: theweight. That was it. The weight of this gun was the exact weight of his anger and his fear and his sense of displacement. That’s what the gun weighed. That’s where its incredible balance lay.

“Okay, you’ve got fifteen rounds in the magazine. Now I’m going to show you how to load one of those rounds, how to cock it, how to turn off the safety, and how to fire it. But we arenotgoing to fire it, are we? We are not going to shoot my truck.” When Kinnick didn’t answer, Chuck said again, “Are we going to shoot my truck, Rhys?”

“No, we’re not.”

“Good. Now step out of the truck.”

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