Tension
Locked and loaded. Clicking can be heard as the cylinder spins. Click click click.. click. .. click… click….. click each successive click taking longer to reach the next. The world is silent. My hands are numb and perspirating rivers. The thumping of my heart so loud I can’t even hear myself pray to God as Dalton pulls the revolver to his head and presses it.
Click
Nothing. He silently hands me the gun. One in five. My odds of living are 80%, worse than even a black widow bite. I keep telling myself I live more times than I die here. 80% is pretty good. I cope away as the cylinder clicks away. The sweat shine on my hands is brighter in this light than the fucking gun I’m looking at. I’m facing death. The maw of the arm is his sythe. I can’t take it I’m gonna-
Click
I survive round 1. Dalton my friend I need you to die here. I can’t handle another. I love you but I don’t wanna die not yet. I’ll take care of your family but I don’t trust you to take care of mine. I need to be there for it. Dalton’s hair is drenched. Time to pull the trigger. Dalton is shaking. He can’t stop shaking. He looks at the guard to try his luck. He puts his eye right into the barrel to see if this is the chamber of demise. No luck it’s too dark. Darker than even a cave at the center of Earth. His face said it all. More than any conversation ever could convey. It’s not resignation to the end but sure terrified resignation that he can’t know. In defeat he pulls the trigger.
Click
FUCK I’m next. One in three. Alright here we go here we go. Dalton hands me the gun. Eyes pleading for forgiveness. It’s him or me and we both think the same thing. He, my friend, wishes I die here and I wish the same of him. My hand feels the rugged handle memorizing every single texture as if they are the last thing I’ll feel. Time is stopped. I’m observing everything. Did the guard always have one sock rolled up? He looks so stupid why would he do that? The sweat running down my nose is so cold. Am I going to die cold? I didn’t even get to talk to anyone. This sucks I can’t die here. The guard is checking his watch. I have a one in three chance of taking him out if I’m quicker to the draw. I think I can do it, but I never used one of these things before. Alright check your watch again you f-
He aims his rifle at me, “You Pull or I pull”. He cocks his gun and I comply
Click
Sorry Dalton but no way you’re this lucky. It may be 50/50 but the chance of you pulling this off after getting this far are slim to none. Goodbye my friend but I’ll tell your kid you love her. A good guy here this Dalton. Had his whole life ahead of him he did. And now it’s all going to be cut short in some sadistic game. Better him than me and I’m so sorry that I think that way. Goodbye buddy we’ll consider this even for all the times I covered your tab
Click
The silence that followed was deafening. That’s it. I am going to die here. He hands me the gun with palpable pity. Slowly stretching his arm as if frame-by-frame. C’mon just give it to me you bastard. I have the gun with a 100% chance that the next shot will indeed shoot. I can’t go out like a coward. I’ll fight my way out.
The guard comes over pointing his rifle at me
“Go head and make my day”.
Those words were lost in the nonexistent acoustics of this shed. Lost to the void, but remained in my head. Probably for the rest of my life. What does he mean by “day?” He does this every day? He wants me to fight back? I won’t give him the satisfaction. Even if it’s the meagerest consolation I will take the path that will please him less. I raise the gun to my head. Sweat making it slippery and tears making my vision blurry
“Yeah that’s what I thought”
What? He wants me to be a coward? It’s some sick power thing to him. I point the gun at him the fastest I ever moved in my entire life and I’m gonna pull the trigger and-
