《The Kodoku Game》


 1 | Let’s Play a Game!

    The room was dark and cold.


    There was a hustle in the air but not a sound could be made out. The coldness carried along with it a pungent smell of sweat and garbage. You could hear constant gasps of breath like the wing beat of a crimson hummingbird- incessant. You knew that you weren¡¯t alone. You could feel the distinct feeling of flesh on flesh interaction. You¡¯d get bumped and stirred in the maze of the invisible crowd. Nothing was in your control and nothing could be understood. But soon that all changed. In the corner of what appeared to be a spacious room, glinted a lone spark of light. All the sensations stopped. There was no more sound, no more smell, no more feeling, just a lone star in the lonely abyss of that dark and anonymous room.


    Then suddenly everything went white.


    There wasn¡¯t one scintilla of light anymore but an inundation of luminescence. Massive floodlights, like the ones you would see at the night of a big baseball game, stood at each corner of the once dark room. Only these lacked the affability and warmth you would usually associate with lights at a baseball game. You¡¯d have to squint your eyes to try to see much of anything else- your pupils had yet to adapt to abrupt illumination- yet you could make out a pattern of blues and whites in your immediate proximity. And even among this uncanny feeling of obliviousness, not knowing where you were and what was happening, you could make out the huge crowd of people that had engulfed you, faces of people you¡¯d never seen before, and in a setting you don¡¯t recall in the slightest.


    Out of the hundreds of those who had gathered around in that horrid room, our focus narrows down to the story of a simple black-haired middle-aged man. His stature is lean, but not of the athletic type. His hands are veiny and slender, yet have uncharacteristically many scars. His nails are blackened and his face rather droopy with exhaustion. His black hair is in chaos and his chin scruffy. The pupils of his eyes are darker than the darkest of nights and seem oblivious of the figures around him. He seems detached from the world, yet looks around, just as the others are; men and women of all shapes and sizes- trying arduously to soak in the situation. The faces, the voices and the reactions of these people are different, but not their clothes. Everyone is dressed in a similar one-piece gown, with no sleeves and in the same pale blue desaturated color. The type you¡¯d find common of patients in a hospital.


    ¡°W-Where am I?...¡± Whispers the black-haired man as he wets his throat in vocalization for the first time in what seems to have been a decade of reticence. He clutches his temple in hard attempt to remember anything. He doesn¡¯t recall a thing.


    ¡®How did I get here? Where was I before this? Why do I not recall anything?¡¯


    These were some of the questions that this man could not get an answer to. And neither could the hundreds of others around him. All he could remember was his name and four seemingly random numbers:


    ¡®6-9-0-5¡¯


    In that particular order. He clenches his head again in a futile attempt to remember, but alas nothing else comes to mind.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    ¡®6-9-0-5¡¯


    Deep in thought the man ignores the sudden push of another befuddled body. He stumbles to the ground with almost no resistance. His knees feel cemented, and make no attempt to correct his fall. His face hits the ground first and then his hands. As his hand touches the satin black floor for the first time, he realizes just how cold it really is. It feels unearthly cool.


    ¡°SCCCCCCCCCRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE¡ª ¡±


    An ear deafening screech hollers across the room. The sound cracks in audible segments in a direction that can only be defined to be in the center of the room. As the crowd retreats in reflex, a lone radio remains stationary at the center of the empty circle. Looking at it now, it doesn¡¯t seem to look like any high-tech futuristic mechanism you¡¯d expect from a sci-fi movie but is a rather old and musty looking wooden radio.


    ¡°SCCCCCCCCCRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE¡ª ¡±


    The screech resonated one more time across the room after which a sound emerged so mechanical that it couldn¡¯t be alluded to a human being.


    ¡°Hellllllloooooo...¡±


    The crowd shunned under the influence of the radio.


    ¡°Helllllllooooo... Hello can you guys hear me?¡±


    Not a soul makes a sound.


    ¡°I will assume that all of you are awake at this point!¡± the voice inhales,


    ¡°Congratulations! My fellow participants! You all have been given the liberty to enter as the last batch of contestants in a once in a lifetime opportunity as participants in this little game¡±


    ¡®A game¡­?¡¯ the black-haired man echoed in an obscure voice. He could feel the blood slowly pulsating through his disengaged thighs. The monotonous voice behind the radio continued.


    ¡°The rules are simple-¡±


    The black-haired man finally settled back on his own two feet. He wiped the soot off his blackened hospital gown and flailed his arms to regain control over his upper body.


    ¡°Take a look at the ceiling of this factory¡±


    As if puppets under the control of the puppeteer the individuals in the crowd obediently follow and take a gander upward, where their gaze is met by a giant electronic display with a number printed across the screen in a digital red:


    1256


    ¡°What in world¡­?¡± ¡°Is this a late night show...?¡± ¡°Where¡¯s the exit?¡± were some common heresies among the sea of people as the voice continued


    ¡°The number that you see displayed above is a count of the number of people that live on this island¡±


    ¡°Did he just say island¡­?¡±


    ¡°And that would include all of the people in this factory as well! Now listen up because the next part is the important bit.¡±


    The black-haired man had an epiphany of uneasiness as the next few words came out of the wooden radio.


    ¡°Your goal as a participant in this game is simple. You are to reduce the number you see on the ceiling to one. Doing so will grant you victory in this game and allow you to reap all the benefits of a victor¡±


    Ears perked up in the crowd when the word ¡®benefits¡¯ was made audible.


    ¡°Yes, you heard right! If you are able to succeed in this simple task, you will be granted anything you desire. Anything! There is no limit to the size or rarity¡ª¡±


    Eyes began to sparkle and the crowd started becoming upbeat.


    ¡°All you have to do is make the number at the top of the screen into a one and press the small red buzzer¡ª¡±


    A stage light illuminated a red buzzer atop a podium located at another corner of the room.


    ¡°And you win!¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s simple enough!¡± shouted a rotund man on the inner edge of the circle. ¡°But how do we reduce that number-¡±


    ¡°TIIINNNGGG¡±


    The digital number 6 on the ceiling reduced to a 5 as if almost on cue, reducing the entire total to 1255.


    1255


    ¡°Well that¡¯s even more simple!¡± the voice behind the radio answered coyly with a faint snicker in the background, ¡°You just have to kill everyone else on the island and be the last one remaining!¡±

 2 | To Those Listening

    The crowd went into a morbid grown.


    As the black-haired man finished brushing the last bits of soot off his shoulders, the voice behind the radio continued in a jolly tone


    ¡°Now, now, don¡¯t be like that! Here¡¯s some good news for you. So that this game doesn¡¯t become too mundane, we¡¯ve equipped each person on the island with a watch and a special power¡±


    The black-haired man looked down at his wrist to find a rubber watch with a single number ¡®3¡¯ displayed on its digital interface.


    ¡°The watch on your wrist indicates the number of lives you have remaining and once your counter hits zero you will be dead. Oh! And by the way it lets us keep track of where each person is in the island. Nifty isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡®This has got be a joke¡­¡¯ thought the black-haired man, as his face convulsed of disgust. ¡®Just who does this guy think he is?¡¯


    The crowd shouted in revolt, one lady made her opinion wholeheartedly clear.


    ¡°Who the fuck do you think you are kidnapping us putting us in your game like mice?¡±


    ¡°Yeah let us out!¡± screeched another ¡°I¡¯m going to sue you so hard when I get outta here buddy you better have your ass ready¡ª¡±


    ¡°You all must be pretty confused and skeptical at the moment about your memories and your positions, but once this game begins the cogs will begin to turn themselves and you will feel just like at home! So here is another piece of advice for those souls who are a little befuddled¡± The voice paused to build suspense


    ¡°Don¡¯t. Trust. Anyone.¡±


    Many of the faces in the crowd convulsed of both anger and anxiety as people began looking around nervously and the tension in the air grew so thick that you could probably slice it with a butter knife.


    ¡°After this message is over, the factory doors will open and you will gain access to your surroundings and resources. As another rule of the game, those who leave the factory will be given a 24-hour gift period to adapt to their environment. Use this time as you please, but note that you cannot be killed during this time. At the ring of the second morning bell, the real game will have begun...¡±


    The black-haired man scanned his surroundings more deeply now. His eyes weren¡¯t hazed anymore; rather they exuded an unearthly glow of attentiveness.


    ¡°Whether you think this is a joke or not, is up to you, but one thing is certain...¡± the voice iterated one final time ¡°you will aide us in our little game... to find... BBZZZZZTTT¡±


    The radio stopped buzzing, and the rest of the audio grew inaudible but you could hear a faint chuckle on the other end before the voice completely flagged.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    In exact complement to the radio, a loud ¡®CLANK¡¯ reverberated throughout the room, which implied the metallic gear on gear interactions facilitating a mechanical motion of some sort. Gradually, as the floodlights began to dim, a new light sliced open the innards of the factory. Two twenty-foot wooden doors, once invisible and unnoticed, creaked open on one side of the factory ever so slowly. That was when the first bell rung.


    ¡°DDDDDOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNNNN¡ª¡±


    As the doors reached the terminus of its rotation, there was an air of absolute silence. Then as if a small spark had hit a gunpowder stock, the crowd erupted into a rush of unrest. Yelling and screaming, some were caught in the surge of the crowd, others, trampled in the turmoil of the fervor. All moved but a small black-haired man stood and watched from the side. Hands in his pockets, he just watched... until a voice called beside him, a girl¡¯s voice.


    ¡°Hey!¡± It rang with a sweet euphony. ¡°Why aren¡¯t you running?¡±


    The girl¡¯s cheeks were about as red as her hair. She had the same one-piece hospital gown on. ¡°Don¡¯t you want to know what the hell is going on here?!¡±


    His head didn¡¯t so much as flinch at the question. He remained as neutral as ever, and just closed his eyes. It was almost as if he was in a deep train of thought. When he finally opened his sable eyes and turned toward the women, he gandered so deep that she took a step back almost as if by instinct. Like a fox had set its eye on a lone fragile game.


    ¡°Hey it¡¯s your loss¡­¡± She said as she backed away.


    He then pointed to the crowd of fleeting people. She followed his finger. In the motley of chaos and confusion you could make out some immotile figures. They were people squashed and mutilated by the disarray. People were in a frenzy.


    ¡°Get out of my way!¡± ¡°You get out of my way! I need to see my wife!¡±


    The man with the black hair finally replied in a very thoughtful manner ¡°The voice behind the radio was right when it claimed that we can¡¯t die in the next 24 hours, however it forgot to emphasize on one more important factor...¡± He paused and gave the girl a pinch on her shoulder, ¡°Hey!¡± ¡°You can still pain¡­ pain for example of the heels of hundreds of people on your back... the pain of not having been put to rest under normal circumstances¡­ and I would rather not have to go through such a testing ordeal...¡±


    Isabelle composed herself and took note of the man¡¯s sharp wit and scooted closer.


    ¡°My name by the way is Isabelle and by the looks of it, I have no idea how I ended up in this dump.¡± She extended her hand in courteousness. The man looked at her hand, but showed no intention of shaking it. He instead replied in an almost lackadaisical manner.


    ¡°Call me¡­ Edward, Edward D. Lawson. Now if you¡¯ll excuse me, the crowd has thinned out, and I must see to this new world that I have been called to¡±


    The lady kept a keen eye on him as he strutted past her. ¡°How arrogant!¡± she whispered. She followed closely but without a sound. And then, almost as if planned, swiftly took out a keened shard of glass from her back pocket- it¡¯s edge keener than a freshly sharpened blade. Her hand drooled of crimson colored blood, and her rose like cheeks turned pale and stoic as she thought to herself ¡®if the voice behind the radio is correct¡­ then it won''t hurt to thin out the crowd here and there¡­¡¯


    A few steps later Edward came to an abrupt stop, almost as if he had forgot something. He didn¡¯t care to take a glance back, because his voice would do so for him.


    ¡°And by the miss, please put that shard of glass away, it is rather fruitless, if I know it¡¯s coming, you won¡¯t be able to hit me...¡±


    Shocked, the shard fell out of Isabelle¡¯s hand and shattered into a million crystalline pieces on the cold dark floor of the factory, much like Isabelle¡¯s calm persona. Edward pivoted his head back at the startled woman and smiled in doing so.


    ¡°Well at least not anymore¡±

 3 | How did you know?

    ¡°How did you know?!¡±


    Isabelle was so blanched at this perplexity that she couldn¡¯t stop from instinctively concocting the question.


    ¡°You saw it didn¡¯t you! ¡ª ¡±


    ¡°Oh, but miss I only observed but the obvious.¡± He extended his hand forward in the form of a handshake. ¡°Your left handed I presume¡±


    ¡°How did you¡ª¡±


    ¡°Your right hand,¡± he grabbed Isabelle¡¯s hand without giving her a moment¡¯s warning ¡°Your nails on this hand are surprisingly clean and unblemished, and you lack the ring finger pen callus most everyday people possess on their dominant hand¡± he gently moved his forefinger across Isabelle¡¯s smooth and delicate hand ¡°It¡¯s almost as if this hand has never really been used to write or work¡±


    He let go and allowed the daunted girl took a few steps back. Edward continued


    ¡°The next step from there was observing your posture. When you were talking to me you took the utmost care to be turned at such an angle that would conceal your left side and it got me thinking. Why would a left-handed person go through the trouble of taking out their non-dominant hand for something as trivial as a handshake?¡±


    Isabelle''s face turned soft, while Edward¡¯s face hardened to unfretted stone.


    ¡°Unless... the person was trying to conceal something in her left hand. And in this case it was the blemishing of your left-hand that was coursing with blood having handled the shard incorrectly and the shard itself. That and the fact that these Nigerian woven-fabric clothing are poor concealers of blood or water of any sort.¡± He pointed to her back pocket, which was tainted in a rubescent-red hue, the red of which had bled to the into the inner parts of the textile.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    ¡°It was a deduction waiting to happen, all that was needed was a little common sense and the dots all seemed to align themselves impeccably.¡±


    The women fell to her knees, ¡®Impossible...¡¯, she thought, that anyone could be capable of such powers of intuition. His deduction was spot on, and there were mistakes in her plan that had now come to bite her back. His way of thinking was way out of her league.


    ¡°Looking at the state of the people who got caught up in the rush of leaving this factory we already established that no matter what injury you concurred you would still be alive. However, seeing as though these people have not recovered we can say that although they are still alive they have become incapacitated and will probably stay in that state till the ring of the second bell. In your plan, after stabbing a person, the loss of blood would delusion the man and cause him to faint, at least for a good half day. When he does regain consciousness, the lack of blood to his lower body and brain will disengage him from moving or thinking for whatever remainder of the time. Upon the strike of the second bell his death would then be almost instant. A pragmatic plan I ensure you to ¡®thin the herd¡¯, however, very roughly executed my darling, probably because you had only just thought of it¡±


    He knelt down and ripped part of his uniform off. It tore in a screech of cacophony.


    ¡°What are you doing? ¡ª¡± Before she could continue Edward clasped her lacerated hand. He wrapped it with the cloth in a temperamental attitude.


    ¡°What is this¡ª¡±


    ¡°If we let the hemorrhage of blood continue, you could get an infection. We can''t have you dying this early now can we?¡±


    He fastened the last band of cloth in an expertly fashion.


    ¡°But after what I did¡ª¡±


    ¡°Well I do need your help after all.¡±


    ¡°Help for what?...¡± Isabelle had no idea what Edward¡¯s erratic nature could possibly imply.


    He helped her up to her feet and replied in a monotonous and almost automatic tone.


    ¡°Well to win of course¡±

 4 | The Outside

    The light of the outside world was blinding.


    The sun seemed almost artificial. It radiated with an almost surreal m¨¦lange of heat and light.


    ¡°The sun is so hot!¡± fumed Isabelle. ¡°Why couldn¡¯t we at least be given some sunscreen?¡± She glanced over at Edward to check his reaction. It was as emotionless as could be. Did he have a stone heart too?


    Edward was still in hard attempt to recall how he had ended up in this death game.


    ¡®The voice behind the radio¡­¡¯ Edward stroked his chin ¡®It couldn¡¯t have been a recording judging by the way it answered the audience¡¯s question and it couldn¡¯t have been recited by some computer since it seemed to understand humor and sarcasm¡­ meaning that there is a person behind this elaborate scheme... no.. not just a person but an organization¡­¡¯


    ¡°Edward. Edward. Edward, you there?¡± Isabelle prodded Edward from the side.


    ¡°We seem to have landed ourselves in quite the predicament, and with some very powerful people¡± Edward smiled coyly in response ¡°Do you recall what the voice behind the radio said?¡±


    ¡°It said a lot of things, what¡¯s your point?¡±


    ¡°Just this one specific line¡­ ¡®we¡¯ve equipped each person on the island with a watch and a special power¡¯... why use the term ¡®we¡¯ if it were just one person coordinating this grand scheme?¡±


    Isabelle paused to think how she could¡¯ve missed something blatantly apparent.


    ¡°I never thought of it that way¡ª¡±


    ¡°Clearly there is a powerful organization at large here and we stand here in their game as their very guinea pigs¡±


    ¡°An organization that can even bring people back to life?¡± Isabelle smiled as she tapped the ¡®3¡¯ on her watch. ¡°Well there¡¯s not much we can really do¡±


    Edward continued to speculate as Isabelle strutted a step forward.


    ¡°Well no point in crying over spilt milk, why don¡¯t we first try to see where we are?¡±


    She looked out at what lie around them. The factory was located on the top of an enormous grassy hill. Far away, near the horizon existed what seemed to be a town. Between the two lie a lush forest of Oak and Pine trees. The factory, the forest and the town seemed to all be embedded into what seemed to a be small island. Around the island lie a vast unfathomable mass of water, where the eye could see nothing other than the placid sea. From the top of the hill, you could almost get a perfect view of the city and the uninhabited timberland. Edward gave them both a quick glance. ¡®Escaping this island by sea would be quite the feat even using a mechanized boat... but maybe if we had a mode of transport through the air¡­¡¯If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Edward continued his thoughtful brainstorming as they both continued to the bottom of the hill, almost as if guided by an invisible hand.


    Isabelle clasped her mouth in horror of what lie at the mouth of the forest. ¡°Looks like we are late to the party¡± Edward frowned when he saw the bodies of dozens of people mangled and stabbed, their blue outfits blemished in red. They finally reached the advent of the forest.


    Isabelle¡¯s acid reflux kicked in quite vigorously. She forced herself to swallow and luridly stomped forward.


    ¡°We have to keep moving¡ª¡±


    Almost immediately Edward grabbed her back by the shoulder. In what seemed to be seconds, came two huge logs cascading through the trees. They collided with great precision near the spot Isabelle had just been standing.


    ¡°What in the world?!¡± She turned to be introduced by Edward¡¯s downward gaze. She followed it to the base of the trees. There she could make out a faint disturbance in the flora along the entrance. A silver thread lie along a line that stretched across the entrance of the forest.


    ¡°Strings¡± answered Edward tacitly to Isabelle¡¯s unproclaimed question.


    ¡°There have been other people here before us¡­we must proceed with the utmost caution¡± He glanced at Isabelle as she shrugged off Edward¡¯s hand.


    ¡°But how is this possible¡­ it¡¯s only been five minutes¡­ how could someone have setup such a huge and complex contraption?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s because there are people on this island who arrived before us. Do you recall the number on the ceiling inside the factory?¡±


    Isabelle nodded ¡°If we assume that everyone in the factory cannot die for the first 24 hours, and the fact that that number only goes down when someone¡­ loses their three lives¡­ then it would be safe to assume that the game has been going on even before we were introduced to it¡±


    Edward checked the dryness and quality of the wooden logs ¡°And players quite old at that...¡±


    As they walked deeper into the forest, Isabelle¡¯s eyes were met with more mutilated bodies of those who had tried to walk across the forest prior to their arrival. There were people squashed in between logs, people fallen into traps of spikes and others who were completely disfigured and removed from what you could call a human being. She clasped her mouth in expectation of a regurgitation.


    ¡°W-W-Who would do such a thing...?¡± She could feel the stomach acid prying at the back of her throat again.


    ¡°Uuhhlp¡­¡± There were moans of the people who had fallen into these traps, locked into the fact that they couldn¡¯t die, now tormented by the continuous pain that was being inflicted on them.  Edward drove his attention away from the path and the moans of the bodies and to her question.


    ¡°It¡¯s simple. To gain an advantage¡± He crouched down and observed one of the mutilated bodies ¡°And furthermore it¡¯s not a question of ¡®who¡¯, but rather the question of ¡®whom all¡¯¡± He noticed Isabelle''s confusion and sighed to an answer ¡°Do you think a single person could have made that contraption this intricate? It requires manpower, it requires people.¡±


    ¡°So it''s more than one? But why¡ª¡± Edward slowly moved away from the bodies and responded in sorrow ¡°When you push people into a survival, they naturally tend to band into different groups. Different groups have different beliefs, different standards, and ranging amounts of humanity. Living a society increases your chance of survival by at least sixty percent¡± He signaled Isabelle to begin moving ¡°Of course to me it doesn¡¯t make much of a difference, but to the common man it¡¯s his best choice¡± He talked as he slowly bent down to pick up a stick. As he finished talking he threw the stick into an intricate motley of strings, which instantly unraveled another log trap.


    ¡°Do you do this often?¡± Isabelle finally said


    ¡°Do what often?¡±


    ¡°This thing you do? Guessing?¡±


    Edward smiled to have been given the opportunity to explain, but quickly restricted himself to a brief answer


    ¡°I can¡¯t seem to remember why but this ¡®thing I do¡¯, seems to be helping me stay alive¡±

 5 | The People of the Forest

    The forest seemed to stretch on indefinitely.


    The smell of rotting flesh was all but gone, but what lingered was a distinct smell of Sulphur in the woody atmosphere. Isabelle couldn¡¯t imagine anyone possibly inhabiting such a remote and murky place.


    The forest was without a noise or bustle. Only a frequent rattle of the bush or the sway of the tree broke the silence from time to time. But this time it was the sound of a man.


    ¡°I think it¡¯s about time¡­¡±  Edward chanted as he came to an abrupt stop. He puffed up his lungs and prepared his vociferous tongue. He shouted:


    ¡°We know you''re behind the bushes! There¡¯s no point in hiding! Come on out!¡±


    His voice had such a commanding tone that even Isabelle¡¯s heart jumped a beat. However, his voice was not in vain, because sure enough, tribes of people flocked out from hiding from all sides, and in a matter of seconds what seemed to be an empty jungle, now bustled with human life. The only thing was that these humans weren¡¯t much different from animals. They exuded a malicious air. Isabelle leaned closer to Edward.


    One of the tribal men slowly stepped forward establishing his unrefuted authority. He wore a tooth like steel-pendent which shone with a brilliant silver hue. He was bare-chested and instead of having any remnant of the blue hospital gown, he instead wore spotted shorts.


    He held a spear, or what seemed to be a spear, made from a fallen tree branch that was keened at one edge. All eyes peered at the two defenseless souls at the center. Then without warning the speared man jumped at Edward eccentrically. Somewhat expected, both of them toppled onto the ground with a painful thud. The struggle continued, in the hollers of the other tribal men, until there came a sharp, almost deafening sound. It sounded like a gunshot.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    Everyone froze in their tracks. Even the man with the spear stopped flinching at this dissonance.


    Isabelle looked towards the sound¡¯s origin as Edward defaulted back to his knees. Instead of just a gun, she saw a rotund man of enormous proportions- the fabric of his brown T-shirt tearing at its seams- holding a revolver aimed point-blank at Edward¡¯s temple. Fear seeped through her spine as she stammered to say hesitantly,


    ¡°H-He¡¯s got a g-g-gun!¡±


    ¡°Not just any gun...¡± said Edward regaining his composure ¡°A .44 mm Magnum-Revolver, Six-barrel revolving rounds with enough kickback to stun an average man, but enough firepower to kill one up front.¡±


    The portly man fretted a bit at Edward¡¯s accuracy of observation, but nevertheless affirmed his position. He started in a deep and uninviting voice:


    ¡°I believe there is something you have that I want.¡±


    Isabelle was quick to reply ¡°We are new to this game, we don¡¯t have anything¡ª¡±


    ¡°BBBAAANNNNGGG!¡±


    Her pleading was cut short by the deafening roar of the Magnum. The bullet grazed her cheek leaving a thin streak of blood. The numbness of the bullet graze paralyzed her body.


    ¡°Don¡¯t try to fool us! We¡¯re obviously talking about your Item Cards, hand them over!¡±


    Isabelle was now as confused as she had ever been. What ¡®card¡¯? They had nothing of the sort. She continued pondering over the thought until she checked the back pocket of her blue gown. Her bandaged hand was numbed by the glass shard and couldn¡¯t feel a thing. But as it had healed over the walk, she could make out the rectangular shape of a thin plastic card affirmed carefully in her back pocket.


    It wasn¡¯t there before. Had she missed it?


    ¡°The clocks ticking gal, and you for too Mr. Talkative. I¡¯ll give you till the count of three to hand over your Item Cards¡­.One!¡±


    Her mind went hazy by the shock of the bullet wound. Her body wasn¡¯t listening to her. Her hand failed to move.


    ¡°Two¡­¡± The portly man pointed the nozzle in estimated proximity of the girl and squeezed the trigger tighter.


    ¡°And THREE!¡±

 6 | Item Cards?

    ¡°Chh, chh, chh¡± Edward dawdled his finger in a condescending manner.


    ¡°You know you can¡¯t shoot her, right?¡± The portly man had his hand locked on the trigger, inches away from firing, but he didn¡¯t dare move an inch further. His intimidation had not bore any fruit. It was almost as if the Edward¡¯s words had caught him in limbo. Edward slowly pulled out a rectangular plastic card that had two letters embossed in its bluish hue- ¡°Item Card¡±


    ¡°Funny thing isn¡¯t it? That we would be fighting over something as trivial as this four by four petroleum sourced molded resin¡± The tribal leader wavered his gun over at Edward¡¯s propinquity. And held the handle with a firm grip. ¡°I want you, to hand over those cards right now!¡±


    ¡°And if we say no?¡± mocked the detective in a provocative voice.


    ¡°I¡¯ll shoot you!¡± This opened Edward to a hearty laugh, one that even Isabelle had never heard before. Once Edward concluded, he continued his pompous speech.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you know this but, only those with whom the card has been entrusted will remember the four-number code that allows its redemption. In short, if you kill us you won¡¯t be able to redeem these item cards.¡±


    Edward recited the 4 number code in his mind, the only thing that he could remember at the moment


    ¡®6-9-0-5¡­¡¯


    Isabelle snapped back to reality through Edward¡¯s assurance. She too recalled remembering an odd combination of numbers when she first woke up in the factory.


    ¡°You¡­ you haven¡¯t gotten to the town yet, so how do you know¡ª¡±The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Isabelle interrupted the man¡¯s stupor with a question of her own


    ¡°But what are these item cards in the first place¡­?¡±


    Edward snickered to a response


    ¡°At this point it might just be conjecture but I can let you in on the details¡± Isabelle perked her ears for an explanation.


    ¡°It must have struck you unearthly as to how these ¡®tribal¡¯ men were able to acquire a gun in such a remote and desolate location such as an island, in a world they know nothing about. The only answer that comes to mind is explained by these mysterious pieces of cards that we possess. As its name suggests, at some point you are allowed to redeem these personal cards for an item of your choice. Of course, it must have its limitations too, but at this point we can assume you can trade in these cards for anything that you deem worthy of your survival. As in this case¡ª¡± Edward pointed straight rotund man. ¡°It was this magnum revolver. However¡­¡± He held the card in the glare of the sun to give it a closer inspection. ¡°We can predict that these are one time use only. Hence the reason why fat man over here is trying to pillage ours. The creators of this game, such as the voice behind that radio, knew this could lead to pandemonium, people would immediately begin killing others at the idea of the Item Cards, and hence devised a mechanism by which only those who naturally possess the card will remember its redemption code. The fact that the game creators can go so far as to even alter our past memories, implanting new ones should be a piece of cake¡±


    Edward carefully scanned his opposition.


    ¡°There are ten people in this group; that would amount to eight item cards left if no one else has used their own¡±


    ¡°Wait why eight? Doesn¡¯t the gun count as only one?¡±


    ¡°My ignorant companion, you fail to understand the details. You can only trade in the Item Card for one object of interest. The gun does indeed count as one item card, but what about the bullets? Someone else must have used their item card as a corollary to the gun exchanged by the leader¡± He shifted his view back to the armed man. ¡°Isn¡¯t that right ¡®Mr. Leader¡¯?¡±


    The paunchy man fretted at the man¡¯s attention for details. He lowered the gun almost in complete assonance. The black-haired man found this as an opportune time to drop in a suggestion. He smiled in an a most devilish way, so much so that it frightened Isabelle to some extent invariably.


    ¡°Say Mr. Leader¡­ we seem to have some time¡­ how about we play our own little game?¡±

 7 | The ‘Little’ Game

    Edward¡¯s grin was discerning.


    ¡°Let¡¯s play a little game shall we?¡± He moved around the pot-bellied man in a slow truant.


    The rotund man kept his nozzle fixed on the conceited deductionist.


    ¡°What are you talking about?¡± was his inquisition in defense.


    ¡°Oh yes, we can have quite the time with that gun of yours. I''m sure you¡¯ve heard of this fancily cliched game of Russian Roulette?¡±


    The portly man nodded slightly ¡°And why should I play this game?¡±


    ¡°Well you want our item cards don¡¯t you?¡± He held out his card in a lucrative manner.


    ¡°If you win, we will give you both our item cards and their respective letter codes. You can do with them as you please.¡±


    ¡°WAIT! Why do I have to give up my card as well?!¡± Isabelle was far from satisfied with Edward¡¯s transaction proclamation. The podgy man had his doubts as well. But no one expected what Edward had to say next.


    ¡°I¡¯m not finished, if you win... you can also take our lives as well. That¡¯s right just unload every shell from that revolver into our heads¡± He said so with a broad smile.


    Isabelle¡¯s face was full of distress, her perplextion indisposed her tongue, she was so shocked that she couldn¡¯t fight back. That was enough to break the portly man¡¯s hesitation and he jumped at the deal


    ¡°You talk much, black-haired man, but what happens if I lose?¡± ¡°Well of course we will take all of your item cards¡± That caused the man to buckle a bit. Edward noticed the dubiosity and was quick to reaffirm.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    ¡°Well we are betting our lives here, the least you can do is offer a few of your item cards, I¡¯m sure you must have more Item Cards stashed away in a safe place¡± Edward swerved his head around to make it look as if he was searching around for the secret stash.


    ¡°In fact here...¡± Edward extended his Item Card to the portly man¡¯s associate ¡°6-9-0-5. You can keep my Item Card with you. That should be fair down payment, shouldn¡¯t it?¡±


    The man grabbed the Item Card like a shark snapped at an injured trout.


    ¡°Well then, that settles it¡± Edward grinned.


    And that brought them to a rustic game of Russian Roulette.


    ¡°The rules¡ª¡± The chubby man explained ¡°involve my six-barrel magnum revolver. There will be one bullet.¡± He popped the stock and cocked a single .44mm bullet. He gave it a good spin, and it clicked with every passing round. ¡°I shall start. And we will switch on every empty barrel.¡±


    ¡°May I see the gun?¡± Edward extended his palm. The leader recoiled as if by reflex.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid we can¡¯t have the chance of you messing with this gun. In this game, if we see you trying to play smart with the gun or otherwise¡ª¡± He signaled one of his men. He stepped forward and took out a hidden blade and leaned closer to Isabelle. ¡°We won¡¯t harm your female companion but we will make sure that she shows us a good time¡± the grunt mischievously guided his hand around Isabelle¡¯s posterior while the other men hollered and hooted in excitement. The leader continued,


    ¡°We shall play by sitting on opposite sides of this tree trunk and will point the gun at each other every turn.¡±


    Edward retracted his hand and humbly sat down on the opposite end of the tree trunk.


    The podgy man sat down on the other end with a tremor.


    The showdown was centered at the heart of the jungle. Among the idyllic and seemingly lifeless woodland, lie a woman with so much life that the contrast was polemic.


    Edward noticed the discrepancy.


    ¡°Before we start I would like a word with my evidently disorientated partner---¡±


    ¡°WHAT ARE YOU THINKING!? Gambling away our lives like money!? What happens if we lose? What will happen to me?¡± When she finished, she panted, surprised at her own unexpected dissemination of energy.


    ¡°Indeed, your arguments are worth recitation, but there¡¯s one thing you routinely fail to consider.¡±


    He smiled.


    ¡°I don¡¯t lose¡±

 8 | It’s a Gamble

    ¡°He¡¯s lost his mind¡ª¡± were the last words that came out of the incapacitated face of a woman named Isabelle before the match initiated.


    ¡°Then let us begin.¡± The portly man carefully aligned the gun intuitively with the head of the solemn deductionist. ¡°You know, although this won¡¯t immediately kill you, because of the 24-hour rule for you newcomers, the shock of the bullet round would definitely knock you out unconscious. And when it does¡­¡± He glanced over in the direction of the frail woman. ¡°I¡¯ll be sure to extract all the information I can from your friend over there...¡± he snarled in an almost inhumane snort of pride.


    ¡°Well if you win that is¡± reminded Edward.


    The fat man¡¯s smile deformed to a frown and he squeezed the trigger.


    ¡®CLICK!¡¯


    The hammer of the magnum struck the empty barrel with a sharp sonority.


    ¡°Well, well, if it isn¡¯t your lucky day?¡± The rotund man laid the gun down with no excess movements and slid it across the tree trunk.


    ¡°Indeed, my luck can be surprisingly uncanny at times¡± Edward slowly protruded towards the gun. The other tribal people kept a keen eye on him, their eyes meticulously tracking every one of Edward¡¯s minute movements with their blades angled towards the defenseless girl.


    As Edward finally touched the warm leather of the magnum grip, he realized just how contrary it felt to the cold dark floor of the factory.


    He lifted the gun with extreme efficiency. His movements seemed rehearsed, almost naturally effortless. He gave it a quick glance and stared down the nozzle of the gun.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°She¡¯s a beauty ain¡¯t she?¡± The podgy man replied. ¡°If you aren¡¯t careful she bites too.¡±


    With that Edward held out the gun in a manner similar to his opponent. He squeezed the trigger with a frown.


    ¡®CLICK!¡¯


    ¡°Hahaha!¡± The portly man let out a rancor laugh. ¡°I live to see another day it seems, my friend.¡±


    Edward slowly put the gun down on the hardwood and slid it back across the tree trunk.


    The portly man picked up the gun confidently and aimed it right back at the detective.


    ¡°Round 2 my friend.¡± He squeezed the trigger quickly to be answered by this sound:


    ¡®CLICK!¡¯


    ¡°YES!¡± Isabelle jumped out of her delirium and quickly rushed to Edward¡¯s side. ¡®We might have a chance of winning!¡¯ she clamored.


    ¡°You are indeed a very lucky man¡­.¡± The rotund man laid the gun down slowly and pushed it back to Edward.


    ¡°This is your chance Edward! You can win!!¡± Isabelle shouted exuberantly from the sidelines.


    Although spontaneous, and although her rancor drew the unneeded attention of the tribal people, she was talking some sense. With a barrel that holds six bullets, after the first three turns, the chance of Edward pulling a bullet this round was 1 in 3, or 33.33%. On a scale from 1 to 100, it might seem meager but as he had the last turn at his disposal, even if he pulled a dud, the chance of the portly man shooting a round in the next turn, was a 1 in 2 or 50%. Edward has a chance of winning either this turn or the last, because on the last turn he has a 100% chance of getting a shot.


    ¡°That¡¯s right! Now¡¯s your chance!¡± she repeated with the same vociferousness.


    ¡°That¡¯s right Isabelle!¡± Edward displayed exhumed equal joy, ¡°But it¡¯s a shame that we can¡¯t make this game of roulette any more interesting than it already is...¡± He slowly slid his hand onto Isabelle¡¯s uniform.


    The portly man¡¯s grunt began to grow anxious. ¡°Don''t you agree gentlemen!¡ª¡±


    Almost unexpectedly Edward stripped Isabella¡¯s clothing clear off.


    ¡°EEEEEEEE!!¡± Isabella turned red in embarrassment as her clear pearlescent skin was vulnerable to all the elements. ¡°Edward! How could you¡ª¡± She began to tear.


    ¡°HAHAHA¡± portly man exploded ¡°I like you¡¯re thinking my young man!¡± He eyed the defenseless lady top to bottom ¡°Now that¡¯s what I call a prize...¡±


    The grunts showed equal fervor. ¡°This one¡¯s mine tonight¡± ¡°No it¡¯s my turn this time!¡± hollered the animalistic men.


    They have no idea...¡¯ thought the portly man with a malicious smile ¡®No matter what games they play...¡¯ He snorted ¡®I have already won!¡¯

 9 | Was it luck?

    ¡®CLICK!¡¯


    The sound of the strike pierced through the highest treetops.


    Edward had shot a dud.


    ¡°Well, well¡­¡± the Leader quickly snatched the gun out of Edward¡¯s possession. Edward let go without any resistance whatsoever. As the portly man regained composure he started


    ¡°Quite the show young man! Just taking precautions...Now¡­¡±


    Although deterred and dearly holding on to whatever clothing she had remaining Isabelle reminded herself positively ¡®There¡¯s still a 50-50 chance that we can win this! It¡¯s like a coin flip!... only with our lives on the line...¡¯


    Isabelle¡¯s train of thought was interrupted as the gun hit the floor with a clatter. It had fumbled out of the podgy man¡¯s hand. ¡°Oh! How clumsy of me! I¡¯m sorry let me pick it up¡­¡±


    As he slowly knelt to pick up the magnum, there arose a moment when the gun went out of sight, behind the portly man¡¯s back.


    But then reappeared almost immediately afterwards.


    ¡°Now we can continue¡ª¡±


    ¡°Wait.¡± Edward spoke with perception. It made the rotund man freeze up. ¡®Did he notice?...¡¯Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Before this turn¡ª¡± Edward gyrated his attention to Isabelle. ¡°I would like to talk to my clearly befuddled partner.¡±


    The armed man let out a sigh of relief. He spoke with gratitude ¡°Sure, sure, go ahead she won¡¯t be needing your company afterwards anyway¡­¡±


    Edward ambled towards Isabelle and whispered something inaudibly into her ear.


    ¡®Fools...¡¯ the other man snickered ¡®You missed your only chance at survival!¡¯


    Indeed, during that unseen accident that had just been reenacted, the portly man took advantage of this clandestine moment by loading the revolver with a bullet through a hidden compartment near the stock of the gun.


    ¡®HA! HA! HA! There was no bullet in the gun from the beginning!!¡¯ the man snickered to himself in thought.


    ¡®It was all fixed¡­ You had no chance of firing a shot in any of your first two turns because there was no bullet in the gun to fire in the first place! However, you don¡¯t know that... you thought it was luck playing games with you, a gamble.¡¯


    Edward sat back down unfretted. ¡°Sorry about that shall we continue?¡±


    ¡°Oh yes, I believe it was my turn?¡± the rotund man could hardly control his laughter.


    He lifted the gun knowing the definite outcome.


    ¡®Luck? Please, only those who can read into the moment and make preparations beforehand can possibly win. I didn¡¯t let you take the first turn because that was the turn I removed the bullet.¡¯


    Isabelle was praying eyes closed in a standby position. Her face reinsured the portly man ¡®These fools really don¡¯t know anything!¡¯


    The gun came to a stop parallel to the ground. ¡°This is the deciding round my friend.¡±


    Edward gave his tacit consent.


    "You played a good game, but this is the end!" His voice was personified in his actions. He squeezed the trigger and the hammer struck the cap of the bullet with a complacent ''ting''.


    "Goodby¡ª¡ª" but before he could summate, the gun backfired in a m¨¦lange of hot shrapnel and gunpowder. The flash was so unprecedented that even his followers were caught in the perplexity of the situation. The game had come to an end.

 10 | How.

    A bullet moves at an astonishing speed of 330 meters a second.


    Light travels almost a million times faster. The scorching hot scintilla of the backfire torrefied all those in its immediate range and the byproduct that was light acted almost like a flashbang.


    The portly man collapsed to the ground, clutching his head in agony, incinerated by the misfire.


    In the dim setting of the jungle, the illumination bewildered all those who had even a degree of retina exposure. It happened for almost a split second, a trivial amount- but it was just enough to allow the closed eye deductionist to get a running start.


    Amidst the confusion, Isabelle was already a foot''s length ahead of Edward in the sprint.


    ¡°IT WORKED!¡± She managed to convey in the mesial of her panting voice.


    ¡°Well did you actually think it wouldn¡¯t?¡±


    Moments prior, when Edward was imparting clandestinely into Isabelle¡¯s ear, he whispered:


    ¡°This next turn..¡± he whispered as Isabelle whimpered to create some sort of concealment out of the cloth leftover


    ¡°Keep your eyes closed until you hear the ¡®bang¡¯ of the gun. When you do, run straight forward down the path without looking back.


    ¡°But what about you¡ª¡±


    ¡°I will soon follow behind¡­¡±


    ¡°How did you know?!¡± Isabelle questioned as they ran, her makeshift clothing clearly not providing quite the concealment she was hoping for,


    ¡°How did you know that the bullet would be fired this round? And how in the world did you come out of that unscathed?!¡±


    Edward smiled at the impeccable execution of his plan.


    ¡°First¡ª¡± he lifted his index finger to make his point ¡°The bullet never left the gun in the first place. It hit the stopper I had planted in it perfectly.¡±


    ¡°A stopper?¡±


    ¡°Oh yes, I clogged the barrel of the gun¡± Isabelle panted enthusiasticallyUnlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    ¡°But where did you find a stone hard enough to clog the barrel of the gun in this mossy forest?¡± This brought the sleuth to a simper


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t a stone,¡± he smiled as he quickened his pace ¡°I plugged it with that steel-tooth our spear friend was wearing as a pendent.¡±


    ¡°What!? When did you¡ª¡± but before she could articulate the rest of her inquisition, a memory evoked in her mind. The time when the speared man attacked Edward out of the blue.


    ¡°You weren¡¯t concentrating on fighting him¡­ you had your eyes pinned on his tooth from the start!!¡±


    Edward just smiled his omniscient smile. ¡®Amazing! So Edward had already planned to play the Russian Roulette game from the very moment we met the tribe!¡¯


    Clearly fascinated in thought she couldn¡¯t but help think of a further complexion. ¡°But how were you able to plant that tooth so covertly, when all the tribal people had their eyes pinned around your throat?¡±


    The sleuth chortled further but composed himself to an understandable answer


    ¡°I have you to thank for that.¡±


    Isabelle¡¯s face shone of confusion.


    ¡°During my last turn, you created quite the uproar.¡±


    Isabelle¡¯s face grew red as she recalled her clothes being torn away ¡°How mean!¡± she beamed


    ¡°I ensure you, your distraction was perfectly timed, it provided me just enough time to plant the tooth. It only required a second, and with a little bit of sleight of hand, my plan was executed like cakewalk¡±


    ¡°So¡­¡± she contemplated


    ¡°Your goal was to never win in the first place¡­¡±


    "Indeed, all we needed was a distraction to get away from that situation"


    ¡°But then... how could you have possibly known that the bullet would be fired in that very round? What would have happened if the gun would have backfired on you?¡±


    The sleuth mocked her obliviousness to the facts and replied in a witty tone


    ¡°There was no bullet in the gun in the first place. Our rotund friend, planned to restock its barrel during his last turn. Unfortunately, I caught on during my first turn.¡±


    ¡°But how could you have possibly known that the gun was empty just from looking at the outside?¡±


    Edward stared down at his hand. Isabelle followed his gaze.


    ¡°Although we might not have any knowledge of our past¡­ our bodies still remember various things. Call it muscle memory, that documents the arts and techniques our bodies have encountered multiple times in the past. That turn, when I held the gun and looked down the barrel, I realized the gun was slightly lighter than it should have been, if it were not empty.


    ¡°Although the difference was insignificant, as it would seem to a normal person, to a trained professional, you learn the dissimilarity through repeated practice and usage of the firearm¡±


    The string of events slowly began to fit together. And with every piece of the puzzle, it unraveled the ingenuousness of Edward¡¯s quick thinking. But one piece was still left unfitted.


    ¡°But...wait...something doesn¡¯t fit¡­¡± Isabelle came to a stop and stroked her chin in skepticism.


    ¡°Wait...what would have happened if the bullet had actually been in the gun during the first turn?¡±


    Edward spoke in deference to her keen logic.


    ¡°If the bullet had actually been in the gun, as should have been in the case of fair Russian Roulette, then¡­¡± He paused to let the words soak in.


    ¡°Then...There would have been a one in six chance of me getting shot on the first turn.¡±


    ¡°WHAT!? Then you could have been killed!!¡±


    ¡°Indeed, but as you observed, even if there had been a bullet, the statistics would still have been in my favor¡±


    ¡°But...that would mean¡­¡±


    ¡°Yes¡­ you finally seem to understand¡­¡± he gave her one last glance before continuing down the path.


    ¡°Had the portly man considered playing a fair game, he might have had a chance of winning, but as soon as the man with the gun concocted the idea of cheating¡­¡± Edward paused


    ¡°He lost the game before it had even begun¡±

 11 | The Dawn of a New Day

    The sky was of a velvet-purple color.


    It had not occurred to Isabelle that the Roulette masquerade would take them deep into the day. The pair had decided to spend the night in the forest, of course on Edward¡¯s own accord and quietly hid above ground in the natural shelter that was the topography of the massive forest. They had much to talk about. But it was not only the lightness of the morning sun that aroused Isabelle¡¯s suspicion of how long they had spent wandering in the forest, and the exhaustion became apparent in her restless movement. Indeed, the deductionist and the woman had gone through a sleepless night, but what was more was that they hadn¡¯t eaten a bite of food since this entire masquerade began and it began to show in the sloth that became of Isabelle.


    ¡°How much further is it?...¡±


    Her voice tended to fade towards the end.


    ¡°If my calculations are correct¡­¡± the detective followed the hazel jungle pass till it opened to a vast plain.


    ¡°We should be just about ¡­¡± The plains materialized into greater detail, until you could make out the peaks of buildings and the hustle of the streets.


    ¡°Here¡± Isabelle limped behind but eventually grasped the magnanimity of civilization in her view. Just above the horizon rose a copper colored sun, which shone with just the right intensity that you could make out its bright flaming outlines against the cool lavender sky.Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    ¡°W-we made it!!¡± All of her enervation seemed to vanish into thin air. She trotted down the side of the forest till she was greeted by a stone path walk that faded into the busy city.


    Edward walked with circumspection, seemingly cautious of what lie ahead.


    As Isabelle treaded closer, her eyes caught a stall on the edge of the town. A billboard hung proudly over the hackneyed counter and read:


    ITEM CARD - EXCHANGE


    She turned back to meet Edwards contemplative look.


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe it.¡± She carefully produced the blue-rectangular plastic card from her back pocket. ¡°You were right¡­¡±


    She approached the counter, upon which sat a metallic chime-bell. Without much thought, she proceeded to give it a ring.


    Almost instantaneously, as if she had been waiting for the sound of the bell, a woman emerged from behind a rustic door. She was dressed in a lilac hostesses¡¯ dress of the most royal attire, her hair was tied behind her head in a fashionable manner that emphasized her wisdom, but at the same time gave her a surprisingly young look, she couldn¡¯t have been more than twenty-five. In contrast, Isabelle stood enervated in a torn-up hospital gown that was browned to hell by all the time they had spent in the forest.


    The bellhop answered with a sweet, almost autotuned voice:


    ¡°Congratulations on making it to the item card exchange shop! Here you can trade your respective Items Cards for any substance of your choice. But remember¡­¡± She paused to take a good look at Edward and Isabelle¡¯s unkempt attire.


    ¡°Once you make up your mind, you can¡¯t go back on your choice¡±

 12 | I want…

    Isabelle was ebullient to say the least. The thought of edification in the form of once unattainable wealth or edible appeasement was enough to send Isabelle on an egocentric train of thought. Gold, diamonds, pearls, objects of immense opulence now seemed an arm''s reach away. Her effusion of happiness was interrupted by Edward¡¯s unprecedented inquisition.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure that can¡¯t be all to it¡­ May I inquire a few questions in brevity of your time?¡±


    The blonde-haired hostess replied in equal eloquence ¡°Please go ahead.¡±


    ¡°Are you working for the voice behind the radio?¡±


    The bellhop kept a keen smile but didn¡¯t utter a word.


    ¡°Do you know who put us here?¡±


    Silence again. Edward sighed ¡°Are you going to answer any of my questions?¡±


    The bellhop spoke almost as if she had been begged the question ¡°So long as it is within my scope¡±


    Edward chuckled at the rather smart answer ¡°Alright then. I predict that there must be a certain extent to the freedom of our exchange.¡±


    The hostess smiled at Edwards astute question


    ¡°Indeed¡± the hostess replied, ¡°There are a few restrictions as to what you may trade your Item Card in for, of which one I have already professed, you may not go back on a decision after I have submitted your Item Cards into that machine over there¡± she pointed to the corner of the shack, where, neatly set, was a white machine that looked like a mini cash register.


    ¡°The second¡± She drew back the group¡¯s attention ¡°You may only ask for one thing. And that must be greatly to some extent completely material.¡±The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    ¡°So allow me the pleasure of reiterating, you can¡¯t ask for ludicrous claims such as immortality, physical enhancements or even something as delectable as an escape from this death game?¡±


    ¡°Although terse, yes, you have covered some of the major non-grantable items.¡±


    Isabelle¡¯s stomach churned and she felt somewhat further from her lucrative needs than she imagined.


    ¡°Third, you may not ask for any object that surpasses a cubic volume of length 12 feet. In definable terms, any item that outsizes a standard truck container.¡±


    ¡°Umm!¡± Isabelle raised her hand as if representative of a middle school student stuck on a trivial problem. ¡°Does that mean we can¡¯t ask for precious materials such as gold, or silver in the truck load?¡±


    ¡°As long as it is material and follows the guideline size, we will deliver it to you. However, you are only allowed to ask for an Item that no one has requested before¡±


    Isabelle felt reinvigorated ¡°Then!¡± She slipped her Item card precariously onto the counter.


    The hostess took the card and fed it into the machine as if she had done so a thousand times that very day.


    ¡°Your four-digit identification number please¡± the hostess asked in complementation.


    Isabelle gave a wary glance behind her, and recited ¡°4-4-0-8¡±


    The hostess typed the four-digit number into the machine upon which it began vibrate incessantly.


    ¡°I want¡­a truck full of diamon¡ª¡±


    ¡°Are you sure that''s a good idea?¡± Edward broke into her lucrative train of thought.


    Isabelle faltered but regained her footing.


    ¡°I¡¯m grateful that you got me through that monstrous forest, but from here on, I won¡¯t need your protection Mr. Dwight¡± she impassionately removed the blood-dried cloth around her left hand and threw it towards Edward


    ¡°We are now no more than competitors in this death game, and how I spend my Item Cards are up to me. You wasted your Item Card in the forest but I¡¯m going to make full use of mine!¡±


    Edward didn¡¯t bat an eyelash but replied intuitively


    ¡°Of course! Please don¡¯t let me influence your decision. I just found it intriguing on how you plan to carry that huge a load of that allotrope of carbon?¡±


    Isabelle shuddered at the thought. How could she had been so blithe? Had Edward not warned her, she would have ended up in a volatile predicament. She could have asked for diamonds in a truck load, but how would she manage to transport the massive load of precious material? This dubiosity maneuvered her to her newly found confusion.


    ¡°But then¡­¡± Isabelle wondered


    ¡°What do I want¡­?¡±

 13 | What I really want

    Isabelle stood mutely for the next couple of minutes.


    She pondered on the perplexity of her situation.


    ¡°Oh may I go next?¡± almost as if by magic, Edward produced an Item Card of his own from his front pocket


    ¡°Wait! I thought you had lost your card in the forest¡ª¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s just say sleight of hand isn¡¯t just good for placing things in guns¡± he smiled.


    On this note Isabelle¡¯s face lit up with the induction of an idea. She carefully approached Edward in the most kittenish way possible. She talked in a soft and requesting tone


    ¡°Um¡­¡± she let out in the most kiddish voice ¡°If you would be so kind¡­¡±


    She buckled her chest to enhance her femininity


    ¡°To use your Item Card... to ask for a car...so that we can transport the diamond? You know I was joking when I said we weren¡¯t partners anymore right?¡±


    Her face laid inches away from Edward¡¯s, provocatively plush with the redness of her cheeks.


    ¡°I promise to give you half of the money we make when we sell the diamonds in town¡­¡±


    Edward kept his equanimity almost impeccably and replied in a coy manner as he drew his lips closer to Isabelle¡¯s, ¡°Even if I were to ask for a car¡± he gave her a superficial smile ¡°From where would the fuel come from?¡±This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Isabelle recoiled on this note.


    ¡°But then¡­¡±


    Edward locked his glare to rising sun. He appeared to be contemplating something circumspectly for the future.


    ¡°What do I ask for?...¡±


    Edward realigned his focus on Isabelle. ¡°My lady¡± he repeated in a most handsome fashion ¡°I¡¯m afraid that it is completely up to you¡­ however¡­¡±


    And this marked a seriousness in his tone ¡°Whatever you do ask for, will not last for very long...¡±


    With this he smiled a grimacing smirk that would have even frightened the most sinister devils of Dante¡¯s Inferno.


    ¡°What do you mean by that¡ª¡± she immediately turned to the bellhop and asked in a stern voice ¡°There¡¯s no time limit to how long we can keep our objects is there?¡±


    The bellhop shook her head in concurrence. ¡°None whatsoever. You may keep your object as long as you wish.¡± she browsed Edwards complacent face, and wondered what he had meant by his mistaken phrase.


    ¡°If you wish¡± the bellhop reignited Isabelle¡¯s attention


    ¡°You may put your request on hold. Once you¡¯ve thought about what it is that you want, you may come back to us anytime whatsoever. We will then administer your exchange as long as you recite to us the four-digit code¡±


    Isabelle found this as a great opportunity to ruminate what she desired.


    She sighed in relief, and stepped away from the anxiety.


    In the meantime, Edward truanted obliviously to the shop.


    He slapped his Item card on the Oak desk with great exuberance he had only ever shown when he was at the peak of some devious scheme.


    Soundless, the lady at the counter took his card and slipped it into the machine just like before.


    ¡°Now sir, you¡¯re identification co¡ª¡±


    ¡°¡®6-9-0-5¡¯¡± Edward quickly replied


    The hostess quietly entered the numbers and continued ¡°Now sir, would you also like some time to think over your decision too¡ª¡±


    ¡°No. That won''t be necessary¡­¡± He stared right into the bellhop¡¯s eyes. ¡°I¡¯ve already decided what I want.¡±


    He broke into a snicker.


    ¡°I want¡­¡± He held out one finger to signify its uniqueness


    ¡°A hydrogen bomb.¡±

 14 | Start Again

    The sun shone radiantly in the morning sky. It was a glaringly spectacular moment. If you were asked to attribute an expression to its brilliance, you would without a doubt quote it as exuberant.


    Isabelle¡¯s face shone with an equal brightness, but her face was marked without expression.


    The thought of such an erratic outcome was beyond her expectation. The bellhop, without a word entered the letters that carefully spelled out ¡®Hydrogen Bomb¡¯ into the idyllic cash register. She spoke with no titillation. Her voice was nonchalant and her face without unnecessary expression ¡°It is done.¡±


    She raised a finger from her clasped hands and pointed it upward. Isabelle followed the bellhop¡¯s suggestion and her head swiveled to a glance into the seemingly placid sky. There was nothing offbeat from the cerulean colored sky and the soft white of the clouds. Isabelle looked back to earth to meet Edward¡¯s queer smile. Pestered by her lack of attention to the situation she looked back to the sky for an answer.


    There she saw it.


    It couldn¡¯t have been larger than a penny at this range, but she saw a small black speck that was incongruent with the rest of the azure sky.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°It can¡¯t be¡­¡±


    She turned back to Edward who was now standing directly below where the bomb was likely to strike.


    ¡°You¡¯re crazy¡­.¡± Isabelle¡¯s face was harangue and twisted with disbelief.


    The tiny speck grew to the size of a baseball.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid I will be meeting you on the other side.¡± Edward said serenely.


    The baseball grew to the size of a fish, at which point you could hazely make out the tail and the body of the bomb.


    Isabelle¡¯s mouth grew dry. Her hands twitched with fear. She slowly stepped back, encumbered with the thought of the truck load of diamonds she had yet to receive.


    The bomb developed into a small car. By now you could distinctly tell its head apart from its tail.


    Isabelle turned around and stretched her foot out ready to run. She covered four feet before her exhaustion set back in and she tumbled onto the ground. The cut on her left-hand tore open and blood slowly began to ooze out.


    ¡°There¡¯s no point in running away¡­¡± Edward deepened the girl¡¯s sorrow ¡°This bomb should be able to take out the entire city.¡±


    The bomb was now just a few seconds from impact.


    ¡°What are you trying to achieve?!¡±


    Edward closed his eyes and let her words soak into his cerebrum. He kept his cool smile and replied audibly


    ¡°You will understand once you wake up¡ª¡±


    The bomb struck the ground with a clang.


    Isabelle¡¯s world turned white. She couldn¡¯t see anything, feel anything, touch anything.


    She could only make out the isolated sound of a bell.


    ¡®DDDDDOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNNNN¡ª¡¯


    And then everything went black.


    END OF ACT 1 ~ RUSSIAN ROULLETE


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