The Last Game

by Fernando Trujillo Sanz

  “It´s true I´m not perfect.” Alvaro admitted. ”I´ve cheated, but it was for a good case. I´ve helped my brother and a pregnant woman.”

  Dante´s rage continued. “You´ve robbed us, you dirty cheat. And don´t forget you only helped your brother because you got him into trouble in the first place.”

  “I´m still a thousand times better than you, Dante. How many lives have you ruined?”

  “And how many have I helped?” he asked with a malevolent smile on his face. “You´ll regret what you´ve done here. I´ll make you pay tenfold on the other side.”

  It was a threat no one could take seriously, least of all Alvaro. What was done, was done. They were all going to die. But he still felt he´d done the right thing. And that feeling was going to stay with him.

  “Finished.” The girl said, standing up on the table.

  Everyone looked at her as she took some tiny little steps across the felt and stopped in front of Judith. “You win. Well played. A little kiss?”

  The girl reached her arms out and looked at the winner with a dazzling glow in her eyes. Judith leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek, and when her lips touched the girl´s skin, Judith´s shadow turned the other way.

  Alvaro suddenly felt weak, all desire to move, disappearing. He watched Dante return tamely to his seat and understood instinctively that it was a trick of the girl, that was manipulating them so that they´d stay quiet while they paid their debt. The end was near.

  “Judith.” Alvaro said, wanting to fare well her while he could. “I´m happy that you´ve won. Use those eight years well.”

  “Don´t worry, I will.”

  “I . . . I won´t forget you.”

  “And I won´t forget you.” She said, as she put her hand under her flowing dress and made a strange movement, before pulling downward.

  Alvaro´s heart nearly stopped as he saw a Velcro mould fall to the floor. Judith kicked it away, the silhouette of a slim woman standing before them.

  Alvaro, on the verge of death, had seen the world he´d lived in collapse around him.

  “What a vixen!” Dante said. “How do you feel now, Doc? Are you happy you helped this bitch win?”

  Alvaro didn´t hear him. His mind had imploded on seeing Judith as she really was, incomprehensible images and sounds storming through his mind. The last thing that his brain recorded was the face of the girl coming close to his mouth and whispering. “A little kiss?”

  * * * * *

  EPILOGUE

  Albert’s knee has been painful for more than ten years. He walked slowly, with a walking stick, and the first Wednesday of every month, he went to the bank without fail, to collect his pension. He took his time normally, enjoying the pleasant stroll under a warm sun. Sometimes, he stopped in the park and sat on a bench for a long while to rest his tired bones.

  That Wednesday was a beautiful day, the sky clear, a gentle breeze cooling him. But he went past the bench in the park, walking quickly. He was nervous and in a hurry. It was the first time, in the eight years since he’d retired, that Albert hadn’t strolled to the bank.

  He entered the building with a wrinkled smile on his face. He’d been waiting for this moment for a long time. So long, in fact, that it had made him nervous. He sat down at a desk, with a single computer on top. And a young face appeared from behind its screen. “Good morning, Albert, everything ok?”

  Albert rested his cane carefully between his legs, careful not to knock his painful right knee. “I feel great. It’s a magnificent day.”

  The young cashier nodded, then sighed. “Better to be out there in the sun, than trapped in here.”

  “Work’s good for you, lad. At your age I worked from dawn to dusk and was grateful for the work.”

  “I believe you.” The cashier said. “That’s because you’re a strong man. Look how well you look now.”

  Albert liked the boy. He always showed his elders respect. And many Wednesdays he stayed on to chat with him if there weren’t too many customers to attend to. But today was different. He had something urgent to attend to.

  “Well, I’m sure you know what I’ve come for.”

  “To collect your pension, like every month. Are you sure you don’t want to try using an automatic teller? A man like you shouldn’t be afraid of a little machine.”

  “You’ll never convince me to do that, and you know it. I don’t like those holes in the wall, besides if I did do that we’d have to give up our monthly chat.”

  “That’s true.” The cashier agreed. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  The boy excused himself and left the table, coming back a few seconds later with an orange envelope, with the stamp of the bank on it.

  “Thanks, son.” Albert said, lifting himself up.

  The cashier stopped him. “One second, Albert. You have to sign the receipt. You look like you’re in a hurry, today.”

  “I am. I didn’t know it was so obvious.”

  The boy ran his fingers quickly over the keyboard, punched the print button, and a few seconds later the receipt slid out. Albert picked up a pen on the desk and signed it.

  The cashier was watching him carefully, noted his trembling hand. “Is your wife all right?”

  “As beautiful as the first day I saw her.” The old man answered, pushing the receipt forward. “I’m going to take her on a surprise trip. I’ve been saving up for the last three years to go on a cruise. It’s the dream of a lifetime. This was the last payment I needed to pay for the trip.”

  “That’ll do you a lot of good.” The boy said approvingly, understanding now why the old man was so excited. “I’d like to see the look on your wife’s face when she sees the cruise tickets.”

  Albert wanted to see that look too. He’d been careful to keep the whole thing a secret. And it hadn’t been easy doing that. It was difficult to believe, with the modest pension he received, that he’d been able to pay for the trip. But he’d put his mind on the job and now it had come true. It was going to be one of the biggest surprises of his wife’s life.

  “I’ll let you know how it went down next time I see you.” Albert said, smiling. “We all need surprises from time to time.”

  The cashier nodded, the smile leaving his face. “You should’ve told me about this before, Albert. I could’ve arranged a credit so that you wouldn’t have had to wait so long.”

  “No way I would have done that. Everything tastes better when it’s the from the fruit of your own effort. Remember that, it’s good advice.”

  “I won’t forget it.”

  Albert got up with the aid of his walking stick.

  “I’ll see you next month.”

  “Don’t forget that you’ve promised to tell me what happened.”

  He put the envelope in his coat pocket and left the bank, walking along a broad footpath until he reached a zebra crossing. The traffic light was red, so he waited patiently in a large crowd, for the light to turn green.

  While he was waiting he heard a rhythmic sound behind his back, and turning around saw a blind woman approaching him. She was slim, wearing sun glasses, tapping a fine white cane on the ground as she walked. When she was nearly to the crossing she stumbled into a garbage bin and lost her balance.

  Albert rushed across to help her, grabbing her by the arm. “Let me help you.”

  The woman shook her head, not knowing where she was.

  “Thank you very much. Can you help me across the street?”

  “Of course.”

  Albert offered his arm to the woman but she couldn’t see it. He felt very clumsy suddenly and didn’t know what he should do next.

  “You’re a real gentlemen.” The blind woman said.

  “Nonsense.” He said. “Who wouldn’t help a beautiful young woman like you? Take my arm and we’ll be the envy of everyone crossing the street.”

  Albert placed her hand on his forearm and they walked to the traffic light.

  “It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?” She said.
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  “That it is.” Albert confirmed. “They should all be like this.”

  The light turned green and the pedestrians started to cross the street.

  “Let’s go.” She said.

  He went at her pace across the street, close together, surrounded by the surge of humanity bent on getting to the other side as soon as possible.

  “You have to eat more.” Albert said, observing her thin arm. “A young women as beautiful as you are shouldn’t be so thin.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “It is.”

  “You’re not making a pass at a poor blind woman, are you?”

  “If I was fifty years younger I would.” He answered her as they got to the other side of the road. “But don’t worry you’re safe. My lovely wife is waiting for me at home.”

  “Well, tell her for me that she’s got a charming husband. Thanks for everything.”

  “Can I do anything more for you?”

  “No, thanks. You’ve already done more than you had to do. My house is close to here and I can get there on my own. Say hello to your wife for me.”

  “It was a pleasure meeting you. Take care.”

  For some reason Albert found it difficult to take his eyes off her. He watched her walk to the corner before she disappeared.

  He continued on his own way.

  The young woman walked a few steps around the corner and stopped beside a garbage bin. She threw the sunglasses and cane in, then walked to a car that was parked a few yards ahead.

  She got in and took Albert’s orange envelope out of her coat, running her finger over the bills, doing a rough count, smiling.

  As soon as she’d walked through the door of her house Judith dropped Albert’s envelope on the corridor table and looked in the mirror and it was then that she realized that there was another envelope there that she hadn’t seen when she entered.

  It was black with white edges. Judith picked it up, frowning. Was it that time again? She was about to open it and find out when the sound of something bouncing on the floor in the living room surprised her. She walked into the other room and found the answer to the mystery in front of the chimney.

  Death stood there smiling at the other end of the room, the giant dog beside her, tensed on his hind legs after dropping a cushion on the floor.

  Judith threw the envelope on the sofa. She no longer needed to read its contents.

  “It seems like you’ve nearly forgotten me this time. Have six years really passed?"

  The girl roared with laughter, her black ponytails bouncing around her head. Zeta growled, then barked, as if he was demanding something from the girl.

  She just laughed all the more.

  “We’re going to play again very soon.” She said running her tiny hands over the animals giant snout. “But not yet.”

  “No problem.” Judith said. “As if I didn’t know at this stage of the game how things worked.”

  The girl gave the dog a signal and Zeta followed her out of the room, neither of them looking at Judith as they went.

  Judith watched them go without even a hint of fear in her veins.

  “You’ll never get me.” She said to herself. ”I’ve dodged you for twenty years and I’ll keep on doing it. I always win.”

  Zeta suddenly stopped and sat on the floor, refusing to move. The girl turned back towards him and signaled him to go to the door, but the dog stayed where he was, without budging.

  “Very bad boy.” She reprimanded him. “You know there’s no point in fighting. You’ll only postpone the inevitable. And the angrier you make me the worse the punishment will be.”

  As if he’d understood her perfectly, the dog got up and padded over to the girl submissively. Death patted him tenderly and then smiled at Judith for a few seconds before she turned around and skipped happily out of the room.

  * * * * *

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  September, 2010

  I visualized this story as a short homemade movie that supposedly three or friends and myself, all amateurs I might add, would have filmed.

  We were all going to enjoy ourselves. The project only required a few actors, no special effects, and one or two sets at the most, given our non-existent budget. The cost of material resources would be zero and we weren´t going to do anything fancy on the technical side or with the acting. So we agreed that the short film would be as simple as it could be and shot in one of our homes.

  Soon after, it occurred to me that a game of cards could fulfill all of the above and I could enjoy myself at the same time with a game I´d been a fan of for years. Poker seems perfectly suited to the cinema, because it can create a lot of tension until the final moment when the cards are revealed.

  In the first rough copy of the story I let my vocation for fantastic stories have its head, and substituted what remained of the gamblers’ lives for the money that is normally played for. At that stage, I had a happy ending in mind, for the sake of the filming, although such an end never really convinced me. It was then that my girlfriend suggested something different and I changed the story to the one you´ve just finished reading.

  Sometime after all of that it became clear to me that we weren´t going to film anything, but by then I was hooked on the story. The good thing about that was that all the limitations that we had imposed on the story for the purposes of it being filmed, simply disappeared.

  It was in this way that this singular version of Death was created.

  I hope you´ve enjoyed it and I would be more than pleased to hear your opinion.

  Fernando Trujillo Sanz

  Thanks for reading.

  * * * * *

  THE MYSTERY OF THE BIG BEN

  (SAMPLE)

  PROLOGUE

  Only someone who is dead inside can take charge of the preparations for his own funeral without feeling even the slightest pang of nerves. Wilfred Gord threw the coffin catalogue as far as he could, barely a meter and a half, and lay back on the bed thoughtfully. He still hadn´t discounted cremation. The idea that his body would rot in a box had yet to convince him.

  According to most studies, seventy years is within the average life expectancy for men. However, this failed to console Wilfred. To tell the truth, nothing did.

  His life had passed too quickly. He had achieved what others can only dream of, and very few get. He had built a financial empire with his own hands, starting from scratch, and become the powerful owner of a business conglomerate that encompassed every activity imaginable. There was no job that Wilfred´s employees didn´t occupy. But despite the uncountable successes achieved during his life, and the incredible challenges that he had overcome, he was now irreparably defeated by a fearful enemy that would take his own life: cancer.

  His mansion was one of the most distinguished in London. The city in which he had lived all his life and in which he was about to die.

  "I couldn´t get here any earlier." Ethan said, poking his head through the doorway.

  The two formidable bodyguards that were always posted at the entrance stopped him for an instant, then, after verifying his identity, let him enter. Ethan threw them a sharp glance that would have been angrier under other circumstances. He approached the bed where Wilfred lay, and sat down beside him with the ease of a body that had yet to reach twenty years old. His smooth, unmarked face and his abundant mat of brown hair contrasted with the bald head and deeply lined face of the old man in front of him. They both had brown eyes: Ethan´s shining with the intensity of youth, Wilfred´s sunken and lifeless in their sockets.

  "It doesn´t seem to matter now." the old man said in a voice that was little more than a whisper, turning his head to be able to look Ethan in the eyes. His expression of deep pain touching the young face beside him, "None of my doctors think I can live more than two or three months."

  "They don´t know what I know." Ethan said, taking Wilfred´s thin hand in his. "There´s still hope... I think I´ve found a way."

  Wilfred´
s eyelashes lifted imperceptibly.

  "You said you couldn´t reveal the secret." he murmured with difficulty.

  "Remember the first thing I explained to you. There are rules. I can´t tell anyone else. I´ve already risked too much. Think of the greatest danger you can imagine... I can assure you I am facing something a thousand times worse."

  After a considerable effort, Wilfred lifted his left hand from under the sheet. The bodyguards understanding the gesture left their posts.

  Wilfred still didn´t know what to make of Ethan. Despite all the undeniable proof of his identity, a sliver of doubt remained deep within. Neither his age, nor the foul cancer itself had affected his ability to reason, of that he was completely sure. And even in his wildest dreams he knew avoiding death was impossible. Still, he had nothing to lose in listening to Ethan´s suggestion, even though there were many other things to attend to. Hope urged him to listen. To consider anything new however absurd it may be.

  Ethan waited until the door was closed before he turned back towards the old man.

  "Well then, you must pay attention to the little that I can tell you." he said, lowering his voice. "It´s possible that I can´t see you again, so it´s very important that you remember what I´m going to say. Can you do that?"

  Wilfred was irritated by the thought that this insolent young man didn´t realize that his memory still worked better than his. His frown was a good enough answer.

  "Excellent." Ethan replied without showing any sign of being irritated. "The first thing is that never, under any circumstance, can you mention my name. It´s simply better not to not add unnecessary obstacles."

  "Why can´t I mention you?" Wilfred asked in a whisper.

  "I can´t tell you. If everything works out well you will know in time." the young man answered. "You have to trust me. Just follow my instructions and you will live a lot longer. More than you can imagine. What have you got to lose?"