Good luck and bad luck

1924 words

Rated 12+; torture, death, violence

"The tv isn't working!" shouts Kat.

I roll my eyes. Getting up from my spot on the couch, I kneel down in front of the television. Apparently no one in my family can get it to work. A remote is thrust into my hands. "Is this sticky? Kat, have you been eating and touching the remote?"

Kat shrugs. She shoves her hands in the pockets of her green sweater. She has no respect for the remote. She wolfs down a chocolate bar while watching a movie, and none of us can change it because we don't want to get our hands dirty. She might be doing it on purpose, so she can always have her choice.

As I press a button, the television lights up. I press the buttons to get met to the right channel. 487. The tv pauses for a second before fulfilling my request. The grainy screen clears up. There's a woman standing on a set, with 5 people in handcuffs and a logo behind her. She's wearing a midnight blue skirt suit. Her amber hair is curled to perfection. A microphone is in her hand. She winks at us. "Hello folks!" She waves. "The future is now. Have you committed a crime but don't want to go to jail? Just sign up, play the game, and walk free! That is, if you survive! I'm Danny Constalla, and this is Convicts Come Again!"

My mom cheers. "Whoo!"

My Dad rolls his eyes. "This is ridiculous and violent. We have a fourteen year old, should she even be watching it? It's-"

"Horrifying." We all finish his sentence and shush him

Except for Allie-Bea, who says "I'll be fifteen next week.

Onscreen, Danny puts on a serious face she practiced in the mirror all afternoon. “Of course, crime is not laughing matter. The practice here has been made legal. We are not condoning crime. Do not try to get on this show.”

I count down in my head. Three, two, one. 

Danny’s smile is back. She seems happier now that the legally obligated disclaimer is out of the way. “Now, let’s meet our contestants.”

She walks over to where the prisoners in jumpsuits are handcuffed to the wall. None of them struggle. Danny’s pumps clop as she makes it to the first contestant. A tall man with green hair and a wet face. He’s nervous. “What is your name, sir?” Danny asks

The man stutters. “J...Joe.”

Danny nods. “And how old are you?”

“Thirty sev...seven.”

“And what crime did you commit?”

“I stab...I stabbed someone, because-”

“No need to know why. Maybe if you hesitated as much then as you do now, you wouldn’t need to be playing.” Danny laughs manipulatively.

The audience laughs, too. She continues along the line, and their information shows on the screen:

Joe-37-stabbing

Ysolda-41-arson

Lena-32-abduction

Dolores-29-assault and battery

Brian-51-abduction

Once she’s made fun of all the convicts, Danny turns to the screen. “Let’s get a reminder of the 3 games. Trivia, Tumble and Toss! If you finish, you can leave. If you lose, well you still leave...in a body bag!”

The audience roars.

“The first event will begin in three,two,one!” Danny snaps her fingers. The lights go out. “...after these messages!”

[]

If we had any dignity, we might listen to Dad. We’d shut off this god-forsaken program and play a board game. Bond as a family. Good thing we don’t. As the commercial ends, the screen fades in. The five electric chairs, with the prisoners already tied down, sit beside a podium with flashing lights. Joe’s sweating enough to be able to slip free of the leather bindings. Behind it, Danny straightens her cue cards and perks up. “Welcome back. We’re about to begin our first event--trivia! I’ll ask each convict two questions about a book they were given all day to read. Get a question wrong, you get a shock. Get another one wrong...well, you wouldn’t want to be them, folks.”

The convicts shiver at the thought. Danny continues her explanation. “This week’s book is...a sliver of the moon by Juleka Montgomery! Convicts, are you ready?” 

“Yes!” they scream like they were told to.

“Okay. Joe, how many siblings does Garrett have?”

I hold my breath.

“Three.”

A bell rings. “Correct!” Danny rolls her rs. 

Joe exhales heavily and leans back. 

Danny asks a few more questions, and makes it to Lena. Lena has light skin and dark, black hair. It’s pulled back in a tight ponytail. She takes a deep breath as Danny asks the question. “What were Victoria Van Neil’s last words?”

“I wish I were a star.”

A buzzer sounds. “Sorry, Miss Lena, but the answer is “If I had a wish, I’d become a star.”

Lena screams as the shock is sent through her. Blood trickles from her mouth. “See that blood, folks? That would be Little Miss Lena biting her tongue. She’s lucky she hasn’t chomped it clean off!”

The electricity stops. Lena’s still twitching, though. She coughs up blood. Danny jumps. “Oops. Gotta stay out of the splash zone, am I right?”

That tight ponytail Lena had in is now a loose mess. Danny straightens her cards. “Alright, second question. Who did Luther Khatri hit in the cave?”

Lenas struggles to get the words out. “Ol...Oliver.”

As a buzzer sounds, Lena struggles with her bindings. “I meant Ollie! I’m sorry! Please!” she sobs.

Tears roll down her face. She reaches out for Danny’s skirt. Danny slaps her hand away. “This is a new skirt. No thank you.”

As the shock starts, Lena’s eyes spread wide. The shock’s increased, and she cries out. Her pain makes me gasp. Was it always this gruesome?

 The current powers down, but she doesn’t stop shaking. Blood is now gushing from her and making the floor around her slippery. Danny carefully jumps around it and leans next to her. “If you didn’t know, our Little Miss Lena is having a seizure.”

She listens carefully for a few seconds. “Hear that? The pauses between her breath are getting longer. If they get long enough, the oxygen in her blood will reduce to a dangerous level. In other words, without medical attention, our Little Miss Lena will die.”

She calmly rises and walks forward. “Guess she should’ve paid more attention. The rest of you contestants, congrats, you lived!”

The convicts stare in horror at Lena’s dying form. Brian heaves and throws up. 

Danny ignores it. “Don’t forget to come back after these messages for round two, time!”

As the screen fades to black, I see workers coming up to collect Lena’s body. And no one, not even Dad, blinks an eye.

[]

I excuse myself to go to the bathroom. I stumble over the carpet as I walk to the door, and open it. I lean against it as I hear the lock click. I tremble And fall to the ground. What is wrong with me? I’ve watched countless criminals die over the past two years. For some reason, this one got to me. Lena had a life. And it’s over. Gone, just like that. Danny didn’t care. She never does. 

I can’t bear anyone else dying. What about Joe? Poor, sweet Joe. He needs to make it out. Marry someone. Start a family. Tell his children the challenges he had to face. Get frustrated on late nights at the office. Smile in wedding photos. Understand why violence wasn’t the answer to his problems all those years ago. Stand up and be proud of who he became. Have a life. 

I exhale and put my face in my hands. Why do I care? He did bad things. He’ll get the punishment. I stand up and dust myself off. Why do I care? Isn’t it just a game? It’s just that some games can cost your life. 

[]

By the time I’ve calmed myself down and practiced my nonchalant face, the second event is ending. I sit down and sigh. For time, the convicts have to do a physical exercise for as long as they can. The first two (or one, if there are only two people left) to stop get a shot in the leg. They usually don’t die, but it makes event 3 difficult. Kat whispers to me. “Brian and Ysolda stopped the star jumps first.”

I probably could’ve guessed, from the two bodies lying on the ground. Danny is kneeling next to Brian. “Lookie here, folks. Don't let the movies fool you. A shot in the leg can be fatal. Unlucky Brian here is a perfect example of this.”

The camera zooms in on Brian’s body. “You see,” Danny tells us professionally. “Sometimes, the bullet doesn’t go straight through like it did for lucky Ysolda.”

She gestures to Ysolda. Ysolda’s pained eyes have violence in them. She wants to stand up and strangle Danny. She would if it wasn’t for the blood staining her jumpsuit on her left leg. Dany continues her commentary. “Sometimes the bullet shatters when it hits tissue or bone. Fragments of shrapnel can hit major arteries. This can kill in minutes, or even seconds. Which, as you can see, happened to poor, unlucky Brian.”

Her tone is sadistic and comes out as purr.

I jump when she looks into the camera. Kat turns to me. “Are you alright?”

Dad chimes in. “Realizing the morals of this show are dismal at best?”

Mom wacks him on the arm with the back of her hand. “Gerald, stop. Leave him alone.”

I force myself to grin. “It’s fine. I’m just a little off tonight, that’s all.”

Danny looks at us. “Don’t miss out on round 3, coming to you soon!”

I grip the couch as the commercial starts. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.

[]

In the few minutes the stage crew had to set up and clean up Brian, they did a good job. As always, there’s an obstacle course. Block and mats to run over, tunnels to avoid, holes and tires. It’s exactly like those at summer camp--except for one detail. On either side, people with axes stand at the ready. Danny beckons over the camera. “Hello! Ready for the final event of the night?”

The audience hollers and cheers.

“Our convicts will have to make it across this mere thirty feet without being beheaded, they win. They can go home. Hell, we’ll even pay for the ride. Unfortunately, our Lucky Ysolda has decided to drop out and just go to jail. Of course, the hospital first, but that’s what you get when you’re out of shape.”

I notice at the starting line, there are only two people left: Joe and Dolores. Joe’s eyes are closed and hands are pressed together. It takes me a second to realize he’s praying. He’s hoping God is merciful. I am too. This is the first time I’m really looking at Dolores. She’s a short woman with dark skin and glasses. She has brown eyes that sparkle like sand in the moonlight. Danny holds up a silver whistle. She blows it, and the axes are passed back and forth in swift motions. I have to mention these aren’t regular axes. There’s no chance of the wooden handle hitting you and you surviving. It’s a whole circle of blade, with a grip in the middle. The throwers are wearing protective vests, goggles, and gloves. The jumpsuits Joe and Dolores are running in are sweaty and a size too small. Joe squeals as and ax swishes past his chest. What if I could transport through the tv? Become a member of the live audience. I could run and stop this madness by standing in front of the camera. Better yet, I could possess Joe’s body. I kneel down and quit. Go to jail and learn my lesson. Move on. It turns out, I can’t be Joe. Because, as an axe slices his head clean off, I know if I was him, I’d only be dead.