Russian Roulette

“Here’s the deal,” the man put the gun on the table and looked at the two boys. “You each fire three shots at your head; if neither of you end up dead, then we let you both go. But, if either of you dies, then the other goes into the next round.”

Marc looked at the gun laying on the table, looking so harmless in a way, “How many bullets?”

“Just the one; we want to make sure this is a nice fair game.”

Justin eyed the gun as if it was going to explode right there on the table. He had heard about this game from his brother, but he never thought that he would be involved in a game of it. But that was what life was like if you were in a gang and got caught by a rival gang.

“Three shots and that’s it?” he asked in a monotone voice. He always made sure that people didn’t know how he was feeling by his voice, though his expressions would sometimes give him away.

“Three each, yeah, and you take it in turns to fire each one.” He handed the gun to Marc, “You were caught first, so you get the first shot. Good luck.”

Marc took the gun and stared at it for a moment before spinning the chamber and putting the barrel to his temple. If he lived through this, he thought, he would leave the gang and go home to his parents. He pulled the trigger.

Justin closed his eyes as the trigger was pulled, not wanted to see anyone die in front of his eyes, but there was no noise barring the click of the empty chamber. He heard Marc breathe a quiet sigh of relief, and then the gun was passed over.

As he span the chamber, Justin took the opportunity to examine the other boy. Marc had to be at least a year younger than him, but he had the look of someone who had been involved with the gangs for some time. He had a number of scars on his bare arms, a black eye from the fight he’d been in while trying to avoid being captured, and there was a nasty cut near his ear which he had received that morning for talking back to one of the ‘guards’.

Justin lifted the gun to his temple and pulled the trigger.

Another click from the gun and he was safe.

Justin nodded, and put the gun back on the table, pretending that he hadn’t been in the least bit worried about his fate. At least it was only bullet; his brother had once been forced to watch a game played with the traditional five bullets.

Marc took the gun, his hand shaking as he lifted it up. He watched the chamber spin around and sent up a silent prayer to anyone who might have been listening, though what god would be interested in a pathetic runaway gang member like him, he didn’t know. After a deep breath, he lifted the gun to his temple.

Another blank chamber and he was able to put the gun down. Breathing was getting harder now. Even though he knew that there was only a one-in-six chance that he would actually end up dead, it was nerve wracking to think that there was any chance at all.

Justin paused before taking the gun back. He had joined the gang because his brother had been in the gang as well and he had got him involved. Most of the time it wasn’t a bad life being in the gang, but when there were gang battles and stuff like this happened then it wasn’t so good. He should have got when his brother had left really, but back then he had thought that being in the gang was more important than his own life.

Well, things were going to be different now. If he lived through this, then he would go back, find his brother, and the two of them would leave completely; go somewhere no one had ever heard of them or the gang.

The gun clicked again and Justin swallowed hard. He had really thought that was going to be it that time. If he thought too much about things, then that was going to be it and he was going to die.

Marc took the gun back, his hand really shaking a lot now, his breath was coming out in short pants and he was starting to cry. This wasn’t fair; it just wasn’t fair! He had run away from home because of his parents’ habit of blaming him for things that he hadn’t even been around to do and he had thought that life in a gang would be better, safer, but it turned out he was going to die because he had joined that gang.

He closed his eyes tightly as he lifted the gun to his temple and pulled the trigger.

“Oh thank you god!” Marc choked out and fell backwards, putting the gun carefully on the table before he did. He didn’t want to fire the gun accidentally now after he had done his three shots.

Justin stared at the gun for a full five minutes before slowly picking it up. This all rested on him now. If this last shot was blank then they would both go free, but if not… well, he would be dead, and Marc would have to do even more of this even though he had survived.

He took a long deep breath, lifted the gun to his temple and paused for a moment just to gather himself. He could feel a tear rolling down his face as he sat there with the gun against his head. This was never how it was supposed to be. He pulled the trigger…