by Amy Cross
“What do you see?” he asked again, peering more closely at the dead girl.
“I see a body,” Amanda muttered, turning and looking back at the distant prison. “I don't wanna see it, but I do.”
“What else?”
“Is this really -”
“What else?” he asked again, more firmly this time.
She looked back down at the corpse. “I see...” Her eyes opened wide with shock. “Oh crap, I see ants! Are they eating her?”
“How many ants?”
“Lots. They're all just, like, crawling all over her!”
“Does it seem chaotic to you?”
“I guess. Kinda.” She felt a hint of nausea in her belly. “This is that girl who escaped last month, right? The one who climbed over the wall and through the barbed wire?”
“What would you say,” the Governor continued, getting to his feet and hurrying around to the other side of the corpse, before crouching down again, “if I told you that there's no such thing as chaos?”
Sighing, Amanda kept her distance from the dead girl as she made her way around to keep the parasol over the Governor. She could already feel the back of her neck starting to burn.
“I'm pretty sure chaos is a thing,” she replied cautiously. “You see it all the time.”
“You only think you see it,” he continued, “because you don't understand the systems at work. Take these ants, for example. They're not chaotically swarming across the body of this dead young woman. Each and every one of them is engaged in a specific task, and they pick their course over and through her corpse based on what they need to do in order to complete that task. It merely looks chaotic because we don't understand their way of thinking.”
“Do we need to?” she asked skeptically.
“I'm trying to make a broader point,” he replied, leaning closer and watching as ants scurried into the girl's head, making their way through her dried-out eye sockets. “It's not possible for us to lift up the hood of the universe and see directly how it all works, but by studying the science of statistics, and analyzing anomalies, we can see traces of something much deeper. Hidden cogs. If something appears to happen by chance, that's an opportunity for us to get to the truth.”
Suddenly he got to his feet again, almost knocking Amanda back. Making his way around the dead girl, he stopped and crouched down next to her head.
Sighing, Amanda headed over to keep him in the parasol's shade.
“Ants. Prisoners. The world at large.” The Governor paused for a moment, still watching the ants. “They can all be explained if we just analyze their actions, even actions that seem completely arbitrary and random. And that is where the statistics come in!” He turned to her. “It's also why I play my Fifty Fifty game every morning with the girls.”
“You mean when you...” She swallowed hard. “When you shoot one of them in the head?”
“It's a game of chance,” he continued, getting to his feet, “but I'm convinced that there's a pattern. There's a deep, underlying reason why, for example, Catherine Evans took a bullet in this morning's game and Gemma Roper survived. That reason might not be apparent yet, but it's buried deep and the more I study these things, the closer I get to understanding how so-called chaos actually works.”
“Uh-huh,” Amanda replied, forcing a smile. “Unless you run out of girls to shoot.”
“There are thousands in the prison,” he pointed out, “and a fresh bus-load arrives every month. I'll never run out, not before I understand the forces at work, and it's not like anyone's ever going to come looking for the unfortunate inmates. I'm getting closer and closer to peeling back the layers of reality and using statistics to model every aspect of the human mind!”
She stared at him for a moment, before glancing down at his feet.
“You've got ants on your shoes,” she told him.
“Fascinating,” he muttered, watching as a line of ants carried chunks of the dead girl's body toward a nearby crack. “That's not chaos either. They chose to alter their route. I think maybe I should acquire an ant farm for my office. Get on to the requisitions department and have one ordered. The bigger the better! Perhaps with my great intellect, I will divine some lesson I can learn, even from these humble insects.”
“And what about her?” Amanda asked, looking over at the girl's dried corpse. “Shouldn't someone come out and, I dunno... move her?”
“Why?”
“Well, maybe... out of respect?”
“Absolutely not,” he replied. “In fact, I forbid it. Let her rot.”
Amanda forced a smile, but she couldn't help watching the girl's face for a moment longer. The girl's hollow eye sockets seemed to be staring back at her, almost as if at some moment she might start to move, even as a line of ants continued to thread its way into her dried and withered head. Her mouth was wide open, locked into a silent scream.
“These prisoners are trash,” the Governor added. “They're just human garbage. But thanks to my work, they'll contribute to a great scientific and philosophical breakthrough. You know, I think I might win a Nobel prize one day.”
Day Three
Judy's head exploded, splattering blood, brain and bone across the tiled wall.
In the chair opposite, Gemma flinched, but this time she kept her eyes open. Gripping the sides of her chair, she watched as a large section of Judy's skull slipped down the wall, leaving a smeared trail as it dropped to the ground.
“Fascinating,” the Governor said after a moment. “Miss Roper, I hardly need inform you that you have survived a third round of the game. You are, indeed, a statistical outlier.” He headed over to his desk and made a note in his ledger. “Tell me, do you feel lucky?”
She stared at him, not knowing what to say.
“Well?” he continued, glancing at her. “Do you?”
“I...”
“Because luck has nothing to do with it,” he added. “There's no such thing as luck. Invisible forces have caused you to survive three days in a row, and it's those forces that I'm studying. I very much look forward to your fourth round tomorrow morning.”
Barely even hearing the Governor's voice, Gemma stared at Judy's bloodied, headless corpse. She'd been convinced that this time, on her third morning, she'd be the one who'd lose the game. Instead, she'd survived yet again. Tomorrow, though...
Tomorrow she'd lose. She could feel it in her gut.
***
“That man is as mad as a box of fish,” Barbara muttered, as she and Gemma sat in a shady corner of the prison yard. High up on a covered walkway, the Governor was strolling past, inspecting the scene, while his secretary tottered after him. “Who the hell put a psycho in charge of a place like this, anyway?”
Staring across the yard, Gemma was watching the other prisoners. She had no idea whose name would be called tomorrow, but she knew that in the morning she'd be back in that room, facing one of them. The Governor would issue his usual pleasantries and then he'd start the game, pulling the trigger until either she or her opponent took a bullet to the face. For a fraction of a second, deep down, Gemma actually began to hope that she'd be unlucky, that all the pain and suffering would come to an end. That sensation passed quickly enough, of course, although she was shocked that she'd reached such a low point.
Suddenly she heard a loud click nearby. Flinching, she jumped up and turned, before realizing that it was just one of the other inmates banging a rock against the wall.
“What's up?” the woman asked with a broad, gap-tooted smile. “Jumpy?”
She hit the rock against the wall again, and again Gemma stepped back.
“Leave her alone,” Barbara said firmly, waving for the woman to go away. “Get your fun some other way.”
The woman banged the rock against the wall one final time, in a little show of defiance, before turning and wandering away.
“Ignore them,” Barbara continued. “The goons around here always like to prey on people's weaknesses, so don't give them the
satisfaction of a response.” She paused for a moment, waiting for Gemma to respond. “So what's it really like in there? When you get sat down to play his little game, I mean. I've always wondered. Not that I ever wanna find out for myself, of course, but...” She paused again, her eyes filled with a hint of salacious curiosity. “It's dark, isn't it? Like, really dark? Is there blood when you get there? Or do they clean it up each time?”
Gemma turned to reply, but for a moment her mind felt empty and she imagined herself sitting across from Barbara in that room, waiting for the gun to fire.
Suddenly she heard a clicking sound nearby. She spun around, but there was no sign of anyone watching her. A moment later, she made eye contact with a couple of women sitting nearby, who smiled at her. Then, slowly, one of them raised her right hand and pointed a finger at her own head, before miming pulling a trigger while silently mouthing the word “Bang” and grinning.
Day Four
Blood trickled down the opposite wall and onto the floor, and then slowly the red puddle began to spread past the wooden chair legs toward the drain.
“Remarkable,” the Governor said, staring at what was left of Leanne's head. He paused, before turning to Gemma. “Before your little run of success, only six and one quarter per cent of girls made it past day four. You're one of my best performers, Miss Roper, one of my very best. You will be particularly useful to my work.”
As he wandered over to the desk and entered some more information in his ledger, he muttered something about running a new analysis of the numbers.
Gemma, meanwhile, could only stare at Leanne's body in the opposite chair. Just a few seconds earlier, Leanne had been screaming and begging to be freed, and now most of her head was sprayed across the wall. Of her face, only the lower part of her jaw remained, with a ring of teeth glistening in the meat like a crooked crown, topped off by a tongue in its center.
***
“Have you been listening to a word I've said?” Barbara asked, nudging Gemma's shoulder.
“What?” Turning to her, Gemma realized she'd zoned out completely. Glancing at the barred window, she saw that night had fallen outside.
“You're thinking about tomorrow, huh?” Barbara continued. “Well, I don't blame you. Most people don't survive four rounds of that bastard's game. Only one person has ever survived five before.”
Day Five
“You're gonna die, bitch!” Laura screamed, her eyes filled with pure hatred as she stared at Gemma from the opposite chair. “You're gonna get it right between the -”
Suddenly the gun went off, blowing a hole clean through Laura's face and leaving an almost cartoonish gap between her ears. A moment later she slumped forward, as bloodied flesh slopped down onto the floor.
Slowly, the Governor turned to Gemma with an expression of genuine wonder.
“Five days,” he said calmly, “and five victories. You, Miss Roper, are an extremely lucky young woman. Well, not that luck has anything to do with it, but you get the gist. You're quite the outlier.” He paused for a moment, staring at her dark-ringed eyes. “You've now equaled the record by lasting to day six. Perhaps you'll even...”
His voice trailed off for a moment.
“Well,” he added, “let's not speculate. We shall simply play another round tomorrow morning and see if you manage to hold out.”
Slowly, she turned to look at him. She felt totally empty, as if she'd run out of fear.
“That's the spirit,” he continued with a faint smile. “Enjoy the rest of your day, and I'll see you bright and early tomorrow.”
***
Crouching down in the corner of the empty shower room, Gemma sobbed uncontrollably, with her face buried in her hands.
Day Six
“Please,” Vicky stammered, with tears rolling down her cheeks, “I don't want to -”
As soon as the Governor pulled the trigger, a blast blew the left side of her face away, splattering the remains across the wall. The right side of her face stared straight at Gemma, and after a moment the remains of Vicky's jaw began to lower, as if some last vestige of her consciousness was desperately trying to speak.
And then she fell still.
Although she knew she was being watched by the Governor, Gemma continued to stare at what remained of Vicky's head. She wanted to scream, but she also felt strangely calm, as if the gunshot was somehow still echoing in her chest.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the Governor said after a moment. “We have a new record. Six days, six victories. Miss Roper, I must congratulate you. You are quite simply in a league of your own.”
***
“We don't know exactly where the sewers lead,” Barbara continued, keeping her voice low as she and Gemma sat on one of the bunks in their cell, “but we figure the best way out is to go through the processing room. The problem there is that there are so many sensors, although we think it might be possible to get out via an access hatch. We're gonna need a little luck on our side.”
“That sounds good,” Gemma whispered, staring at the opposite wall. “I'm sure it'll work just fine.”
Day Seven
The Governor held the gun for a little longer this time, with the barrel aimed straight at Gemma's face.
“Seven victories would be astonishing,” he said calmly. “The odds of making it through seven rounds of the game are extremely low. You have something like a 0.007% chance of getting to tomorrow's game, Miss Roper. You would be pushing the limits of credulity.”
She stared at the barrel, waiting for him to fire.
Finally he pulled the trigger, but all that came from the gun was an empty click.
“Your turn,” he continued, turning and aiming at Trudi in the chair opposite. “Five chambers left, three with bullets and two empty.”
“Please,” Trudi whimpered, “don't -”
She screamed as he pulled the trigger, but yet again the only sound was a click.
“And back to you,” the Governor continued, turning and aiming at Gemma again. “You now have a one in four chance. I'm not going to sugarcoat this, Miss Roper. The numbers are not in your favor.”
She stared at the gun, waiting for him to fire.
“Nothing to say?” he asked.
She waited, holding her breath. All she wanted was for him to pull the trigger and get the game over with.
“Fine,” he muttered.
A moment later, the gun issued another empty click.
Feeling a shudder pass through her chest, Gemma turned to look at Trudi.
“Oh God,” the other girl stammered, as the Governor aimed at her. “What if...” She froze for a moment, as a hint of realization flashed across her eyes. “Wait, if there've already been three empty ones, that means -”
The blast blew her neck away, causing her head to crunch down and then roll down her chest and land on her knees. Several arcs of blood sprayed from the bloody stump above, as her heart desperately pumped a couple more times.
“This is becoming something rather unusual,” the Governor said darkly, turning and staring at Gemma. “Seven victories is not just improbable, it's almost unbelievable. The odds of you surviving tomorrow are...” He paused, watching her with a hint of fascination. “Extremely low.”
***
“You okay up there, girl?” Barbara asked in the dark cell.
The only reply was a faint rustling of the sheets on the top bunk. A moment later, Barbara got to her feet and peered over the edge, and she immediately saw that Gemma was curled up in the corner with her arms wrapped around her knees, rocking back and forth.
“Oh, Jesus,” Barbara said with a sigh, reaching out toward her, “you're cracking -”
“Leave me alone!” Gemma shouted, slapping her hand away. “Don't touch me! Don't even look at me!”
Day Eight
“It has now been one week since your name was first called,” the Governor reminded Gemma. “Truly, in all the time I've been running this game, nobody has ever lasted so long. You have
not only beaten the odds, you have redefined my understanding of what is possible here.”
He paused, before aiming the gun at her face. Whereas on previous days he'd allowed himself a faint smile, this time he was deadly serious.
“An eighth victory would be...”
He paused.
“Please,” Katie whispered, sobbing in the opposite chair. “You can't just kill us like this. Please, have mercy...”
Ignoring her, the Governor continued to stare at Gemma for a moment longer, before pulling the trigger.
Once again, the gun produced merely an empty click.
A flicker of irritation crossed the Governor's face, before he turned and aimed at the other girl.
“No!” Katie shouted. “No! No! No, no -”
The blast blew her head apart, sending fragments of her skull crashing into the wall behind the chair as blood and brain matter slopped down to the floor.
Gemma didn't even flinch. While she'd once been horrified by the deaths she witnessed each morning, now she felt almost numb to the horror. Worse, she actually found herself fascinated by the different ways a human head could be blasted apart. Deep down, she knew it was wrong to let this change happen, but she couldn't help herself. She was just waiting for the inevitable morning when it was her turn to die.
For a few seconds, the Governor stood in absolute silence, before slowly turning to her.
“Eight days, eight victories,” he said finally, with a hint of awe in his voice. “To call this a statistical outlier, Miss Roper, would be something of an understatement.”
