Jeremia's flaming skull cackled as he grabbed the little heap of memories. The newcomer shivered and stared down on the miserable pile of chips in front of him.

I wasn't impressed by the performance, I had seen worse out in the sobbing wasteland of Tenochtitlan. The newcomer on the other hand was nervous and could barely keep himself together.

Jeremia grabbed one of the chips he had won and bit down on it. "Hmmm, a happy wedding. Not many of those. You have the most delicious memories." He spat it out again and held it up. "Lemme help you, mister. I'll bet all your memories and throw in some happy childhood I won a few months ago if you bet the rest of your stuff."

The newcomer shivered and I could almost read his thoughts. No memories meant losing himself, but missing half of them could be worse. You kept a ragged sense of self and longed for an ineffable something. That led to madness, and the plains around Las Vegas were proof of that.

The newcomer nodded.

Jeremia looked at me and said, "And you, lady? Are you game?"

I closed my eyes and gathered a couple of unimportant memories, like the name of the newcomer. I condensed them into chips and dropped them on the table sealing my place in the Game.

"Good." Jeremia laughed. I had to restrain myself from jumping at his throat.

We pushed our heaps in the middle of the table. The gray light of the afternoon shined in the bar through the dirty glass. The shadows of the living moved around  indistinct and distant. We stared down at our pieces.

The Game was old, older than anyone I ever met. And yet its symbols, the woolly elephant, the spear, the human sacrifice, each one spoke to me.

The light of the day had waned, the bar was full yet nobody came near our corner. They probably could feel Jeremia. 

We laid our hands down. Little phantoms marched over the table and fought, hunted, loved and died. At the end only Jeremia stood triumphant.

The newcomer squirmed, then his eyes became unfocused, his expression void. His skin dissolved in thin threads of smoke. And then there was nothing there anymore.

Jeremia looked at me, the flaming skull disappeared and a leathery face with a wild beard took its place. I clenched my fists. He smiled. It became more difficult for me to stay calm.

"Now that we are alone, I think I can drop that stupid masquerade. I knew you never fell for it. Shall we play a last hand?"

I closed my eyes and dug deep into myself. I gathered all the memories I had kept for such an occasion. From my hands chips began to spill on the table.

As I looked at him again I could see the doubt. At the end greed won.

We arranged our pieces, the sun rose, then set and rose once more. We laid our hands down and the farce that is humanity played out on the table.

Jeremia won.

He laughed, there was exhilaration and joy and meanness in his voice. He grabbed his winnings and then stopped. He sat there paralyzed with his eyes wide open  as the memories streamed into him.

I'd like to think that little Mary's terror as he broke into our home was the first one to hit him. And that the desperation of mom was the one immediately
after that.

As he was overwhelmed by all the suffering he had caused to dozens of innocents before they had hanged him and that I had gathered, I dug out the other cache I had kept for this special moment. I shaped memories into an apple, jumped over the table and drove it into his open mouth. "Choke" was all I ever said to him.

I had to be careful as I collected the memories of all those deaths. But, one at a time, I had managed to keep them in me. Absorbing them all at once was too much. He screamed and even the shadows of the living shuddered.



Jeremia Goodwill is no more. He is no more in the most complete way possible.

Now leave this chip here, leave, and never turn back.

[hr]

I put the note down and looked at the chip sitting in the middle of the table. I knew it had been mine, there was a part of me inside there. 

And then I left.