07/07/2009
[068] Death
‘Go on,’ breathed Silver silently, her body tense as she leant over.
Tark went to turn the card and hesitated, resting his hand on the desk, nearby.
‘What’s wrong with you, man?’ Silver hissed.
He chucked. ‘Silver, I was twenty-three years of age when I started reading. I’m now forty-six and only two people have made it this far. I doubt I’ll see another in my lifetime. Let me have this moment.
She nodded. He smiled and turned over the card. It was a skull. Death.
Silence filled the office as both occupants stared at the card in shock. Tark’s hands began to shake and he sat back, clasping them, trying to keep some measure of control over them. His eyes locked on the fated card of death. It had finally come out. After over twenty years and hundreds of attempts, it had reared its immortal head for the first time.
‘It came out,’ gasped Silver, pushing herself to her feet and holding onto the desk to help steady herself. She stared at Tark. ‘Check the gun!’
Tark grabbed the revolver and released the chamber, it slid open. The final bullet, the one that should have fired, hadn’t. Snapping the chamber shut, Tark aimed the gun at the target and squeezed the trigger, smoothly dissipating the shock of the recoil through his aged arm. The round landed dead centre. He placed the smoking gun on the desk, and sat back, tears in his eyes.
‘It came true, Silver, it really did…’ he spoke, his voice hoarse.
‘What… What does it mean?’ she asked her eyes wide and her body no less tense.
Tark smiled. ‘He’s going to die.’
06/07/2009
[067] Selection
‘It’s been a while since someone passed your test, Tark. I think maybe you’re getting soft,’ said a voice from the shadows.
‘Maybe,’ he replied, and turned to watch the slender figure emerge from the darkness. ‘You weren’t worried?’
‘About what?’ the woman replied, removing black shawl from her face, revealing her dark ebony skin.
‘Being shot.’
‘Please. In all these years, I’ve only ever been shot once,’ she said. ‘And it was non-lethal, so it doesn’t count’
‘It was for him, Silver.’
‘Aye, that it was,’ she replied, remembering the scene well. A candidate had shot wildly, hitting her in the shoulder. Tark had killed the participant instantly. ‘Anyway, it’s my job to stop them from killing you, remember. The last round always makes them nervous.’
She slipped her own gun into a holster on her hip, and sat opposite the middle-aged man, putting her feet up on the corner of the desk. ‘How’d he do?’
Tark shrugged. ‘Let’s see.’
He reached forward and turned over the first card the youth had chosen. A faded picture of a head was shown, with the word ‘Understanding’ in black script beneath it.
‘One down,’ breathed Silver. Tark gave her an unimpressed look.
‘It’s not hard to misunderstand something about a gun, is it? You point and shoot, killing what you shot at. Just because he examined it doesn’t make him special.’
‘Yeah yeah, get on with it old man, or I’ll get greyer than you,’ she cut back playfully.
He flipped over the second card. It showed a crosshair. Tark sighed. The crosshair was a mark of accuracy. Despite missing the first shot, the shooter was confident in hitting what he intended. He flipped the third, which showed the evolution from ape to man. Adaptation. Only a handful of people had gotten this far before.
Silver had taken her feet off the desk now, and sat in earnest, watching the final two cards. She glanced at Tark, who returned the look.
Tark’s hand reached for the fourth card, and he flipped it quickly. The picture was blank, but the word beneath read ‘Conscience‘. He gasped. Four out of five.
Only two such people had reached this stage before. Both had failed the last. Those were deaths he had regretted, as the people were good people, strong in heart and mind. Just unlucky. There was only one card left.
