The Façade of Quad in Nimrod ✓ | Satire, family drama, dark society

XIX

It was around five in the evening by the time Henry finally fluttered open his eyelids. By now Henry had gone almost four days without proper food, discounting the meal of sweet breads he wolfed down without second thought in Mourning in morning. 

Henry sat strapped to a chair, drooling into the gag, and almost choking on his own spit. Blindfolded, he couldn't see anything, which he guessed was the point of blindfolding someone. Henry had always been a little bit stupid, but hunger and exhaustion had turned his mind into sludge most definitely. Footsteps neared and then got further away and back again as men circled him, or perhaps, circled the room.

He jerked as the blindfold was yanked off his eyes. Instantly he was blinded by a small naked bulb that hung over him as he sat in a rickety old wooden chair. Three man stood around him. One was Richard and he cocked his head this way and that, utterly intrigued about the sight of Henry.

"We're gonna have to play a little game, see? We're gonna have to play Roktion Roulette. Do you know how to play Roktion Roulette?" asked the baritone voice that belonged to the tall slender one—Jaxson. Henry shook his head in tiny tremors.

A black gun came into view and was held under his face by the short pudgy man. "It is called ze game of chance," he began to explain in the high-pitched voice with a Roktion accent. The hard-sounding Roktion accent didn't seem to match the high-pitched voice and Henry felt the corners of his mouth trying to smile but he found he couldn't. The gag held his mouth in a strange grinning position.

"You zink I'm veing funny, eh?" the short pudgy man yanked at the gag from behind making Henry's lips hurt. "Zis is the cleave gag. We did it especially for you, manic. Do you like it?"

There was a 'click!' as he opened the gun up to show there was only one bullet inside.

"One round. I close it. I spin it." He spun the cylinder around and around then he stopped it and set it. "Zen I hold zis revolver to your head. If zere is ze bullet where ze nozzle is, you die. If zere isn't, you live."

"And if you live," Richard said, "You will work for me."

"He won't live." The Roktion chuckled.

"We're putting the odds on the gun, Mutts," Richard snapped. "He could still live."

Henry knew he would die. Luck never liked him much. Fear pounded in his heart, but the two men didn't see the agony that passed over his face. Mutts the Roktion spun the cylinder again. When he set it, he put the nozzle up against Henry's head.

"Are you scared, boy?" jeered Jaxson.

"Heh, heh, you can't escape ze bullet, Henry," squealed the high-pitched voice of Mutts.

"Let fate decide your life," Richard said in a casual tone. To Richard, fate was everything. Everything that happened, happened for a reason pre-decided by some unknown force.

Henry could feel the cold nozzle against his temple. He heard heavy breathing that was his own, but it felt like someone else was breathing heavily in the dark room. He could only see as far as the naked bulb illuminated which was anything in close vicinity. His wrists ached from being tied behind his back. His ankles were tied to each chair leg. He tried to make a sound but the cleave gag only enabled him to moan and groan.

The gun against his temple pressed up on his head harder this time. It was coming. The time was coming. He squeezed his eyes shut and wished he was blindfolded—although that would just make the fear aspect worse.

Sweat trickled down his neck and onto his collar, soaking it. The wait was torture enough for him. If it went on any longer, he thought his heart might burst out of his chest from nerves and fear, ultimately killing him. He could see himself on the cliff of death. Metaphorical hands were on his back, and they were poised to push him off.