by Amy Cross
Climbing down from the bunk, she headed over to the tap in the corner and ran some cold water. As she patted her hot, sweaty face, she glanced at the barred window and realized there was a light nearby. She stood on tip toes and looked out, only to realize that she could see the Governor's office, and he was apparently up and about, even in the middle of the night. A moment later, a figure appeared in the office's window, and she realized the Governor was staring out. For a few seconds, she actually began to wonder whether he somehow knew that she was watching him.
Day Eleven
“No!” Jacqui screamed, swinging a punch at the guard and knocking him back against the wall. “I'm not going to fucking do this!”
Running past Gemma, she tried to reach the door, only for the guard to grab her collar and pull her back.
“It's fixed!” Jacqui shouted, kicking and punching at him before swinging round and lunging at Gemma, scratching her face with her fingernails.
Gemma stepped back, reaching up and feeling a series of stinging lines cut into her cheek.
“Get her in the chair,” the Governor muttered darkly, as the guard wrapped his arms around Jacqui's waist from behind and started dragging her across the room. His eye was twitching more frantically than ever. “For God's sake, the last thing I need is all this drama.”
Jacqui was still screaming obscenities as she was dragged to one of the chairs. The guard struggled to force her into place, but finally he managed to bind her arms, and after that the girl was powerless to break free, even as the guard stepped away to get his breath back.
“You goddamn bitch!” Jacqui screamed as Gemma made her way, in a daze, to the other chair. “What are you, some kind of whore? This is all a charade, isn't it? That's the only explanation! You're fucking this bastard, and in return he lets you live each day! What is it, some kind of weird fetish thing the two of you have got going on? Does he get off on pretending to almost shoot you each morning?”
Ignoring the stream of insults and abuse, Gemma sat obediently in the other chair and waited as the guard tied her arms. She knew better now than to fight back, and she wanted nothing more than for the morning's round to be over and done with. A flash of relief passed through her chest as she saw the Governor approaching with the gun in his right hand.
“No!” Jacqui screamed, struggling to break free. “I will not let you do this! I refuse to be -” Suddenly she broke down in a series of sobs, her whole body shaking as she let out a series of wild, painful moans.
“The rules are simple,” the Governor muttered, as if he – like Gemma – was trapped in some kind of dazed state of mind. “We'll just...” His voice trailed off, and he stood in silence for a moment as Jacqui continued to sob. “We'll just get it done as swiftly as possible. More data, I need... I need more data...”
“Just tell me!” Jacqui whimpered, turning to look directly at Gemma. “Before I die, at least tell me how you do it!”
Gemma stared back at her, before slowly shaking her head.
“It's a trick!” Jacqui shouted. “I know it's a trick! You're in this together! You're playing this game together! What, are you somehow in love? Is this a -”
She stopped suddenly.
Gemma paused, before glancing at the Governor and seeing that he had the gun aimed at Jacqui's head. She waited for him to pull the trigger, and then slowly she began to realize that she'd heard a clicking sound a moment ago, almost as if...
“Empty,” the Governor muttered, having already tried the first shot. Calmly, he turned and aimed at Gemma. His left eye was twitching wildly, and her right eye was starting to do the same. “Second try,” he stammered, before pulling the trigger.
Again, just an empty click.
“Oh, you bitch,” Jacqui shouted, still trying to get free. “You absolute bitch! How can you sit there day after day, watching as people get killed right in front of you?”
Gemma watched as the Governor turned and aimed at the other girl's face.
“Rot in hell!” Jacqui sneered. “I hope your soul -”
Suddenly there was another empty click from the gun.
Jacqui froze, staring at Gemma for a moment before slowly a smile began to spread across her face.
“Three empties,” she whispered, with her eyes still fixed on Gemma. “That means there are only three... That means...”
The Governor hesitated, before turning and aiming the gun at Gemma's face.
“You're dead!” Jacqui laughed, her whole body convulsing now. “You goddamn stupid whore bitch, you're dead! The rest of the chambers all have bullets in them! You're dead!”
Gemma stared at the gun, waiting for the Governor to fire.
Taking a deep breath, the Governor pause for a moment with his finger resting on the trigger, trying to choose the perfect moment. He wanted to say something, to mark the end of Gemma's run of success, but he'd written the rules for the experiment himself and he knew that any kind of personal interaction was strictly forbidden.
“Day eleven,” he stammered finally, still hesitating. “Day...”
“Bitch!” Jacqui screamed. “Enjoy getting your goddamn head blown apart, you stupid whore!”
The Governor paused, before pulling the trigger.
The only sound was a click, but not the same click as usual. This time, the click seemed to come from the trigger itself.
The Governor tried again, then again, before taking a closer look at the gun.
“What's the hold-up?” Jacqui asked. “I wanna see that dumb whore's face smeared all over the wall!”
“It's jammed,” the Governor muttered, before aiming at Gemma and trying again, only for the trigger to once again click harmlessly.
“You've got to be kidding,” Jacqui continued, struggling to pull free. “Get another one! Finish the bitch off!”
“It's never jammed before,” the Governor stammered, still staring at the gun, “not once in all the years...”
“Get another one,” Gemma whispered, feeling a strange sense of calm in her chest. Her run of luck had been astonishing, but now it was over. “Get another gun. Just get this thing over with.”
“I can't,” he replied. “I only... For the purpose of the experiment, one of the rules states that it must always be the same gun.”
“Then fix it,” she told him.
“I...” He paused, as if he couldn't quite believe what was happening. “The rules are quite clear. If the gun jams and five attempts to fire are all failures... Then the day's round is null and void. I have to stick to the rules, which means I must let you both go and reconvene the round tomorrow morning, once the gun has been fixed.”
“And then you'll blow her head off?” Jacqui asked.
“And then...” He paused again. “And then we start the round from the beginning and -”
“No!” Jacqui shouted, her voice filled with anger. “You can't be serious! The bitch is dead! She lost, she has to die!”
“The rules must be followed,” the Governor replied, taking a step back as all the blood seemed to drain from his face. “The rules are sacrosanct. I wrote them myself, and I must follow them to the letter. If the gun jammed...” His left eye was twitching more than ever now, to the extent that it was starting to look sore now. “Today's round will be replayed tomorrow,” he continued, his voice tense now, almost as if he could barely get the words out and was instead choking on them. “From the beginning.”
As Jacqui screamed furiously, Gemma let her head drop. Tears were running down her cheeks, and she felt as if she'd been robbed of the chance to finally escape this endless cycle of misery and fear. Slowly, she turned and looked over at the Governor, and she watched as he headed to the table and set the gun down. From deep within her chest, she began to feel an overwhelming rise of anger. Why did he have to stick to the rules? Why couldn't he just fix the gun and get it over with? She wanted to go over and take the gun herself, but as the guard untied her, she knew she couldn't attack the Governor in cold blood.
“Bitch!” Jacqui screamed as the guard pulled her from the chair and led her toward the door. “You're dead tonight! Hear me, whore? You're fucking dead as soon as you set foot on the wing again! We'll see how lucky you are when I get you alone!”
Not wanting to show her fear, Gemma began to make her way over to the door, although after a moment she stopped and watched as the Governor added some data to his ledger. Realizing that the guard was still busy dealing with Jacqui, she glanced around the room and saw that for the first time she was alone with the Governor.
“Get out,” he said after a moment, not looking up from the ledger. “Go on. You're done here 'til tomorrow.”
“Are you doing this on purpose?” she asked.
He paused, before turning to her.
“Is this part of the game,” she continued, “or the experiment, or whatever you call it?” She waited for an answer, but he was simply staring at her with a hint of suspicion in his eyes. “If it's some kind of trick,” she added, sniffing back tears, “then please, just...”
Her voice trailed off, and she stood trembling for a moment. The gun was nearby on the table, and she was wondering whether she could grab it and, by some miracle, turn it on herself so that the torture might end. At the same time, deep down there was some part of her that refused to take that route. Even if the gun miraculously un-jammed, she wasn't ready to give up yet.
“Are you taunting me?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Are you taunting me?” he replied.
“No,” she stammered, “I swear... It's just luck...”
“There's no such thing as luck,” he told her, his voice trembling with shock. “Something is causing this to happen.”
She opened her mouth to reply, but no words came out. She felt drained, and for the first time she was staring to wonder whether she'd be stuck in this hell forever. There was a part of her that even wondered if she was in purgatory, if somehow she was doomed to face the Governor's gun every morning for the rest of time.
Suddenly the Governor stepped toward her, taking the gun from the table at the same time.
“Is it a trick?” she asked, her voice trembling more than ever. She wanted to turn and run, but she forced herself to stay in place as he approached. “I just want to know. I just need to... Maybe we can work together and figure this out. Maybe we can help each other and -”
Before she could finish, he slammed the butt of the gun into her face, cracking her cheek and sending her slamming to the ground.
“How dare you talk to me?” he sneered, standing over her as she began to crawl, sobbing, toward the door. “Don't you recall, Miss Roper, that one of the first rules of this prison is that the inmates must never address me unless I speak first?”
Stumbling to her feet, Gemma reached up to touch her cheek, but the pain was intense.
“Perhaps you're getting a little too confident,” the Governor continued, stepping toward her and raising the butt of the gun again.
“No!” she shouted, pulling back and putting her hands over her face. “Stop!”
“Then get out of my sight,” he continued, “and don't come back until you're called for tomorrow morning's round of the experiment. Pitiful little wretch. You're not special, you know. You're just like all the other inmates.”
He turned and headed back to the table, but Gemma paused for a moment. The pain in her cheek was throbbing, but she was starting to feel as if she needed to take control. She felt certain that she'd die in the morning. After all, the gun had very nearly fired in her face just a few minutes ago, before it had jammed, which meant that her run of luck had to be drawing to an end. Rather that letting the Governor continue the game on his own terms, she wanted to at least decide how she died.
“Do you want to know how I do it?” she asked suddenly.
She waited, but he was looking down at his ledger now, as if lost in thought.
“Do you want to know how I beat your little game?” she continued, taking a step toward him. She was lying, of course, but right now a lie seemed like the best way to make him boil over with rage and end her misery. “It's so simple,” she told him. “It's the simplest thing in the world, but you can't see it, can you? The one little trick I use to make sure that there's never, ever a bullet in the chamber when the gun's pointed at me... Are you so dumb, you can't even work it out?”
He glanced at her, and she could tell that she had his full attention.
“You really don't get it, do you?” she asked, forcing a smile as she got closer to him. “I was starting to think you'd figured it out, that you were in on the whole thing with me, but that's not true. You really, truly haven't worked out my little trick.”
“You don't have a trick,” he replied, although there was uncertainty in his tone now.
“Don't I?” she asked, stepping closer. “Don't you want to know for sure? It's so, so simple, you'll kick yourself when I tell you.” Reaching him, she stared into his shocked eyes. “If I tell you. Or maybe I should just let you kill me one day, without ever helping you out. Maybe I should take my secret to the grave.”
With that, she placed a finger against her lips, as if to indicate silence.
“You're lying,” he replied, as his left eye twitched frantically.
She shook her head.
“Of course you're lying,” he continued. “You're just... You're nothing! You're one of thousands of dumb little prisoners who were hauled here to rot. The idea that you could cheat my experiment is... It's ludicrous!”
“I've managed it, though,” she pointed out, still forcing a smile, still waiting for him to lose control and kill her. All she wanted was for the pain and fear to end. Besides, she had no doubt that Jacqui would follow through on her threat. Death was coming, either way.
“Statistically speaking,” he replied, “it's unlikely but not impossible for you to have won ten days in a row.”
“Eleven days in a row,” she pointed out.
“You didn't win today. The gun jammed. Technically, it's only ten days.”
“I still walk out of here. That seems like winning to me.”
“Round eleven will be re-staged tomorrow,” he told her.
She shook her head again. “We both know round eleven is over. Tomorrow is round twelve.”
“No,” he replied, “I...” He hesitated for a moment. “Maybe you're right. Maybe we should count tomorrow as...” Another pause. “No,” he said firmly, looking down at his right hand, clenching and un-clenching a fist as if he was lost in thought, “definitely not. My hand is... Round eleven will be re-staged and...”
He frowned.
“Maybe it's my hand...”
“It's burning you up, isn't it?” she sneered, leaning closer even though the pain in her fractured cheek was starting to radiate across one entire side of her face. “You can't face the truth. I've beaten your game, and for as long as you keep on playing, you'll never -”
Suddenly he slammed the butt of the pistol against her face again, hitting the same part of her cheek as before. Crying out, she fell back, landing hard on the floor and clutching her face. She could feel the split in her cheekbone, as pain throbbed down to her chin. She hadn't even noticed the Governor picking the gun up again, but she'd been so certain that he'd surrender to his anger. Now he stood towering above her, although the twitch in his eye gave away the tumult of anger that simmered behind his calm exterior.
“Get out,” he said firmly, before stepping closer and shouting: “Get out!”
“Just kill me,” she sobbed. “I don't know what's happening, but I just want to die!”
“Pathetic little wretch,” he sneered.
“Kill me,” she whimpered. “I can't take this anymore! Whatever you're doing, just stop it and kill me!”
He swung the gun toward her face again, and this time she panicked and turned, scrambling across the floor until she slumped out into the corridor. As she got to her feet, she heard the door slamming shut behind her, and she tur
ned just in time to see the guard coming back, visibly out of breath after his struggle with Jacqui.
“On your feet,” he muttered, grabbing her arm. “Back to the east wing with you. Until tomorrow morning.”
***
“He's really losing it,” Amanda whispered, sitting at her desk and speaking into the handset. She had a pile of papers waiting to be typed, but the Governor's office door had remained closed for a couple of hours now, and she couldn't resist the temptation to let her mother know the latest developments. “I wouldn't be that shocked if he pops a blood vessel soon.”
She listened as her mother wittered on. Swinging around on her chair, she looked over at the window and saw the hot desert sun still scorching the ground outside. Patches of dust had dried against the glass, and she couldn't even remember the last time there had been rain. She longed to take some time off and go for a short vacation back home, maybe sit by the ocean and feel the cool breeze, but for now she remained locked into a two-year contract at the prison and she knew there was no chance of going anywhere.
“Sure, Mom,” she continued after a moment, “but I can't -”
Suddenly the buzzer on her desk let out a brief grinding sound.
“Gotta go,” she stammered, setting the phone down and then getting to her feet. Hurrying to the door, she stopped and took a few seconds to straighten her blouse, before pulling the door open and smiling as she headed into the Governor's office. “Good afternoon, Sir,” she said brightly, “and how can I -”
Stopping, she froze for a moment as she saw the bloody mess all over his desk. Sitting with his back to the scorched window, the Governor was holding his right hand up, and he was in the process of peeling the last strip of flesh away from the palm. The rest of the hand's skin was on the desk, crumpled like a heap of soft, pink rind, and nearby there lay a blooded scalpel. Amanda watched in horror as the Governor slowly tore the last strip of flesh from his palm and dropped it onto the desk.
“I was thinking,” he said firmly, slowly turning his hand around to reveal the milky white tendons buried in his meat, with patches of bone showing through in places, “that maybe the reason I wasn't shooting Miss Roper... was because...” He paused, seemingly a little weak. “Because of something that might be wrong with my hand. So I decided to open it up and take a look.”
