Page 112 of Semblance

It was hard to tell what came first, the explosive sound of gunfire or Donald’s body going limp.

I was too stunned to make a sound, but James and Brevin weren’t. Their eyes were wide open—screaming—as they moved frantically in their seats, horrified by the death of their friend.

“Oh Christ,” Lincoln said as he dropped to his knees in disbelief.

“I’ve always been intolerant of indecisiveness,” Sinister said. “A lack of patience is a flaw of mine. Now, I ask again, who’s ready to gamble?”

“I’ll do it,” Lincoln said, rising to his feet.

“Have a seat,” Sinister instructed. Two demon-faced men strolled up behind Lincoln and gripped his arms like a prisoner, forcing him to sit in the empty seat at the table where the pistols rested atop of it. One of the demon men removed a pistol, leaving three guns at the table for the three men.

I feared what came next.

Lincoln looked the other two in the eyes.

“We’ll die with dignity,” Lincoln said.

Brevin looked at him, tears streaming down his dark skinned cheeks. Eventually he nodded in agreement.

“The game is very simple,” Sinister said. “I’m fascinated by high stake games of chance. I enjoy the mystique and magic behind the aspect of luck, which is why I’ve chosen for the three of you to play the romantic game of Russian roulette.”

“Lincoln, don’t!” Shadow cried out upon revelation of what Sinister had planned. “Don’t do this. Let me play instead.”

Lincoln turned to us and smiled sadly. “Forget it Shadow,” he said. “Lady Luck never liked you much. Let me play with that bitch tonight.”

“Don’t play this game,” Shadow stated. “You take Aria and walk on out of here. I’ll play for all of us.” It was clear to me how much Shadow valued his friend’s life.

“They won’t let us leave Shadow,” Lincoln said, turning to Sinister. “He’s here to watch us burn.”

“If Lincoln wins the game, you’ll let him go?” Shadow asked.

“Only if he wins the game,” Sinister replied. “I swear on the souls of my mother and father, whoever survives shall leave this place a free man.”

“Enough talk, let’s play then,” Lincoln said. He turned to both Brevin and James. “I’m sorry guys, but this is all I can offer you—a chance to live by killing me.”

Both James and Brevin seemed to acknowledge Lincoln’s words. Their lives were now in the hands of fate.

“There’s a single bullet in each of the guns. The three of you will unlock the chamber, spin it, and lock it again,” Sinister explained. “You will then point the gun to the person on your left and pull the trigger every time the gong is struck. Only when someone dies does this round end.”

Knife in hand, one of the demon-faced men cut the straps that bound the hands of James and Brevin.

Anxiety filled my gut as I watched each of the three men reach for the pistols in front of them. I turned to Shadow to see if his nerves were as rattled as mine, but his face had become expressionless. His eyes however—those eyes of his had been touched by flames, watching the game unfold as if he were watching the world burn.

“Spin,” Sinister ordered.

Lincoln opened up the chamber of the gun and stared at the single bullet inside the barrel.

“Spin,” Sinister repeated.

The three did as they were told, rolling the palms of their hands across the cylinders of their guns, sending the single bullet twirling in a vortex of deadly chance.

“Load,” Sinister instructed. I closed my eyes and heard the clicking of three guns and I took a deep breath. I was ashamed to say it, but I prayed that James and Brevin—two innocent men—would die. I wanted Lincoln to walk away from this.

“Aim.”

My eyes remained closed. I already watched Donald die. I had no desire to see it happen to another person.

“Pull at the sound of each gong,” Sinister ordered.

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