Guns (Kindle Single) by Stephen King

I. The Shake
    Here’s how it shakes out.
    First there’s the shooting. Few of the trigger-pullers are
middle-aged, and practically none are old. Some are young men; many are just
boys. The Jonesboro, Arkansas, school shooters were 13 and 11.
    Second, the initial TV news reports, accompanied by
flourishes of music and dramatic BREAKING NEWS logos at the bottom of your
screen. No one really knows what the fuck is going on, but it’s exciting. You
get your still photo of the location; you get your map from Google or Bing. The
cable news producers are busting their asses, trying to get some local news
reporter on the phone.
    Third comes confirmation that it’s not a false alarm; there
are casualties! American blood has been spilled! Planes with reporters and
video crews onboard begin rolling down runways in New York and Atlanta, bound
for whatever Podunk just got lit up by a psycho with a gun.
    Fourth, the first video. It’s always from a cellphone. You
know this because it’s short, and everything is all crooked and jittery. Mostly
what it shows is people running.
    Fifth, the first on-scene news reports, filed by those local
reporters who must sub until the A-team arrives. All of them are bullshit with
excitement at their unexpected turn on the national stage, although some hide
it better than others. One or more will use the phrase “as many as,” followed
by a number. This linguistic construction will be used dozens of times in the
first hour, as the reporters slowly close in on the shooter’s final tally. It’s
like watching a carnival game of chance. As many as six . No, as many
as twelve . No, Witnesses who fled the shooter say it’s at least eight .
    Sixth, the correct equation: X dead, Y injured.
    Seventh, the first cop interview. Cop One says nothing
substantive, and doesn’t have to. His job is to look stalwart and use police
jargon.
    Eighth, the shooter is indentified incorrectly.
    Ninth, the first stand-up report from outside the local
hospital, preferably with an ambulance in the background. Bonus points for an
arriving ambulance with lights and siren.
    Tenth, the shooter is identified correctly, and we get to
look at a yearbook photo in which the guy looks pretty much like anybody. The
search is already under way for a photo where he will look like your worst
nightmare.
    Eleventh, the first Talking Head interview. Said Head talks
about gun violence. He or she may also bring up America’s famous culture of
violence, but it’s probably too early. The culture-of-violence thing usually
has to wait until the third or fourth Talking Head interview.
    Twelfth, interviews with eyewitnesses, most of them weeping
and inarticulate (the phrase “popping sounds” will be used). A reporter who
makes actual money for asking questions so dumb they are surreal will inquire,
“How did you feel?”
    Thirteenth, wall-to-wall cable news coverage begins. By now
producers will be assembling the best clips, and you will see them more often
than Fred Thompson flogging reverse mortgages.
    Fourteenth, recaps of previous shootings begin. We will be
shown the superstars of America’s unbalanced and disaffected time and time
again: Harris, Klebold, Cho, Mohammed, Malvo, Lanza. These are the guys we
remember, not the victims. News producers are especially fond of Aurora movie
theater shooter James Holmes’s booking photo, ’cos gosh, that motherfucker just
looks so crazy . He really is your worst nightmare!
    Fifteenth, interviews with people who knew the shooter. They
all agree that he was pretty weird, but no one expected him to do something
like this .
    Sixteenth, what cable news does best now begins, and will
continue for the next seventy-two hours: the slow and luxurious licking of
tears from the faces of the bereaved. We’re treated to interviews with weeping
mothers and fathers; interviews with stunned siblings and classmates; fleets of
hearses rolling from church to cemetery; memorials featuring flowers, teddy
bears,