Your Neck on the Line!

Your Neck On The Line!

by Stephen Owen

“I'll ask you again.” Charlie Smart grins, ginger hair and turquoise suit glowing like he just beamed down from another planet. He flashes a phony smile at the audience, winks at camera number four and rests a hand upon the contestant's shoulder. He repeats the final question of the game, almost spits it in Frank's face. “What is the capital of Kenya?”

Frank is strapped to a cold wooden bench in this final round. He doesn't know the answer and Smart's shitty breath makes us wouldn't shut up about it. She said the prize money would pay off the credit card bills and the mortgage. She wants a new car too, and a mansion and probably a private jet as well. Shim feel sick. He's put up with this megalomaniac bastard for nearly six months now and all he can think of is how much he hates him. Frank only entered the competition because his misshe's got a whole list of dumb things she wants and Frank thinks that's a load of shit. If he wins tonight he'll bugger off somewhere and never see her again.

He turns his head to the snickering audience, almost invisible behind the moonbeam veil of studio lights, and wonders if she's even bothered to come to the show tonight.

Charlie Smart checks his Rolex, all lumpy gold and gleaming diamonds. He yawns as if he is bored of waiting for Frank, and the audience clap and laugh like it's the funniest thing they ever saw.

Frank's opponent in this last round of the competition is a lady from Birmingham who teaches geography. She is also strapped to a wooden bench on the other side of the stage, arms and ankles restrained with leather belts. If the question's passed over, she'll know the answer, for sure. That will be the end of the game and the series. She will win and Frank will lose and it will all have been a waste of time.

Charlie Smart is already headed her way. He skips across the stage. “Choo! Choo! Capital of Kenya next stop!” He goes down on his knees and snuggles up close to the giggling lady. He leans over and eyes her tits. “Feeling confident?”

The woman grins and nods like a demented ventriloquist's dummy.

Frank remembers his old geography teacher, Mister Russell. That bastard knew everything about everywhere and he'd definitely know the answer to this question. Frank wishes it was thirty years ago. He'd put his hand up and ask his teacher what the capital of Kenya was.

“Clock's a ticking, folks.” Charlie Smart glares at camera number one and pulls a pistol from his pocket. Without looking round, he waves it over his shoulder and fires a wild shot in Frank's direction. “That bastard's got thirty seconds.”

Everyone laughs.

Sweat trickles down Frank's face and he racks his brain. Not for an answer to the question, but for a way to escape and murder Charlie Smart. He should have killed him in one of the earlier rounds when he had the chance, but he just never thought of it. Frank struggles with the straps, but they hold tight, dig deep into his wrists.

“Are you hot, or is it just me?” Charlie Smart fans himself with the question card and the audience is already counting down from thirty to zero. Feet stamping, hands clapping, all eyes fixed on the giant clock above the stage. Smart accommodates, conducting them as if they are an orchestra, and the lady from Birmingham screams she knows the answer.

Frank's brain is frozen. He can't even remember what the question is anymore. He wonders what would happen if she got the answer wrong. There are no more questions so it will be a draw. Would they get half the money each? He doesn't know. It's never happened in the history of the show.

Charlie Smart returns to Frank. “You still here?” He cuts the audience a cheeky grin, holds the gun to Frank's head and advises him that this really is his last chance. “Do you know the fucking answer or not?”

The studio explodes in a frenzy of laughter, countdown temporarily fragmented on the count of ten. Frank has just seconds to answer or the last six months will all have been for nothing.

“TEN – NINE – EIGHT...” The crowd bellows.

A moment of inspiration. Frank suddenly thinks he knows what it is. Mister Russell's voice chimes in his head – Oh, that's an easy one! The capital of Kenya is – Then it's gone amid the noise and the lights and the mayhem of Charlie Smart's Game Show. The more Frank tries to get Mister Russell back, the more elusive he becomes. His teacher fades from his memory like a fragmented dream.

“SEVEN – SIX – FIVE – FOUR...” The audience marches on.

There's no answer in Frank's head now.

“THREE...”

Was there ever?

“TWO...”

Lost.

“ONE!”

The clock says the show has overrun by several seconds and Charlie Smart will be eager to finish up. The game show presenter claps his hands, turns to the lady from Birmingham and says, “For the game, can you tell me – ”

She answers before he's finished, but it's lost beneath the deafening roar of the hysterical crowd. Frank thrashes against the leather straps, screams for everybody to shut the hell up so he can hear what the answer is, but the thumbs up from Charlie Smart is enough to confirm his worst fears. The theme tune to the world's most popular game show cuts in and the host assures the viewers at home that a new series of Your Neck On The Line! will be back early next year.

Charlie Smart tosses the gun into the audience and grips the brass lever beside the wooden bench. He pulls it. The guillotine trundles. A sickening slide. Thirty-five feet of metal against metal and the thump of the blade slams into the base. The sound echoes in Frank's dying brain and everything vanishes behind a crimson curtain.