The Last Magician

Meager Bounty

”Is that the last one?” Jack asked as Amanda closed the sink drawer.

Searching the house seemed to have taken hours, but neither of them could be certain. Most of the clocks they found had stopped and those working had taken on a life of their own, turning and counterturning at their leisure. Jack found himself frequently glancing at his watch to find the hours were retreating on themselves.

Even the sky seemed to defy time, the sun remained in a static position halfway between the heavens and the horizon. Time had been severely distorted and Jack saw no signs of that changing. As he had observed earlier, this was a new world and it came with many new laws.

Jack stepped into the hallway and surveyed their small bounty.

A small flicker of disappointment burned deep in his stomach. They had found little of great significance, and certainly nothing that immediately brought a sense of hope to their situation. Many items they discovered had rotted or been eaten away, and of those remaining Jack could say he recognised only a few.

The one find that appeared both the most useful and the most familiar was a blue air rifle. It had been propped behind the shattered remains of a glass cabinet in what had been the living room. Jack had a vague recollection of shooting at crows a long time ago, someone by his side guiding him. He could recall no more and knew to force the memory would only lead to the creation of some hybrid of truth and fiction.

The discovery of the air rifle brought with it a less certain finding. The cabinet was large enough to hold more than just one medium sized air rifle yet there an empty hook and shelf were all that had greeted him. On its own, this was not something to worry him when so many other mysteries remained unanswered. The discovery of two half full boxes of shotgun cartridges in the cabinet’s drawer did raise his concerns.

If there were cartridges, logic demanded there be a gun to fire them.

Where was the shotgun?

Had the cartridge boxes been undisturbed, Jack would have admittedly felt rather more relaxed. There was every possibility that the cartridges had always been that way, their user

(who? him? his father?)

could have taken the shotgun and two handfuls of shells long before the world had died.
Or someone had beaten them to it.

Jack was mindful that something had been living in the floor space of the house. It could quite easily have taken the gun for protection, or to hunt. The possibility that they were not the only ones in the village still remained a likely outcome.

Another danger unknown, and another mystery without a solution.


The remaining items of the haul brought no such omens, but also little of any true worth. Kitchen knives, matches, a stretch of rope, and a box of nails. To the side a small pile of useless bits and pieces lay to be discarded; crayons, string and wire. Nothing of any importance.

On the other side of the hall, a small box sat alone anonymously. It bore no markings or distinctions; it was simply a small brown box.

Jack found it in a small, almost hidden cupboard on the upstairs landing. The door was set into the wall, the handle was missing and only the slight crack between the door and the jam had led him there. At the time he had noted that it could quite easily have been missed.

Inside, the now familiar sight of broken floorboards greeted him. The dweller had either found the cupboard from the outside or broken in from below. The question answered itself when Jack inspected the hole. The space inside was an enclosure, without any room to manoeuvre or crawl. It was a place to hide, or a place to store.

One item sat alone in the small space; the box. It was no bigger than Jack’s hand, brown and unassuming. He plucked the box from the square hole, and gently flipped open the lid. The small item stored away in the red lining was not what Jack had anticipated, though what he thought he was going to see was anyone’s guess.

He reached inside with thumb and forefinger and delicately lifted out the metallic object. His mind was thrown back to the red pendant, which suddenly seemed to gain weight in his pocket. This was almost identical to except for the colour. The fist had been red, this one was black.

Jack absentmindedly removed the red snake from his pocket. He gazed vacantly from one to the other; black then red, red then black. He had been correct in thinking them identical, but that did not help him determine their puporse, if indeed they had one at all. Together they were no less strange, but they did appear to be a pair. There was a possibility they had belonged to Charlie, though he could not imagine her ever wearing such a thing. Somewhere, there had to be an explanation.

The idea of them belonging to what Jack had come to think of as the Floor Dweller became more likely with every new discovery. It made more sense than to believe they belonged to Charlie, and despite his dimming amnesia, he was certain he had no recollection of seeing them before finding them in the debris of the house. If they belonged, had belonged, to the Floor Dweller, it ended the debate without possible loose ends.

Jack lay the red snake alongside the black one, the box seemingly made to accommodate both pieces.


Out of the black and in the red, he thought, nothing in this game for two in a bed.

It was another useless fragment of information from his lost life. From a game show he recalled, though the name escaped him. It was appropriate though, and such memories were always welcome despite their worthlessness.

Jack had since recalled the name of the game show.

Bullseye, he thought, looking down at the box as it lay isolated on the floor.

He stepped over to it, stooping to pick it up. The weight was surprisingly light to what he always expected, and it sat neatly across his palm.

He opened the lid once again and peered at the curious pair. Despite the hall being a little more illuminated than the other rooms, the two metal snakes appeared no brighter, nor did they shine or reflect the shaft of light that strayed over the open box.

”They give me the creeps,” Amanda said beside him “You really don’t think they were here before?”

“Well,” Jack said, turning to face her. ”Considering how strongly you feel about them, I doubt I would buy them for Charlie. She wasn’t the type to buy something like this either. At least, not as I remember her.”

“Well neither of us are too certain in the remembering department,” she said.

“True,” Jack conceded. “I still think whoever was here before was hiding them. Well, one of them at least.”

“So we’re going with who rather than what are we?”

“I think it’s better that way, don’t you?”

“After the slug?” she asked. “Who is fine with me.”

“Well I don’t think we really need to worry at the minute anyway. We spooked whatever it was enough to make it fly. I think it’s about time we did the same. We can’t do anything else here.”

He surveyed the articles around his feet. Jack saw no need to carry anything other than essential items. They would not be leaving the village, not immediately anyway. There could be others in the village, and hopefully he and Amanda would find them, but he doubted any would be in any state to think about trying to steal from such a small offering.

Jack picked up the air rifle, and hooked the strap over his shoulder. Of everything they had found, it was the one item not up for discussion. Jack had not forgotten that there was possibly a rogue shotgun out there somewhere and he was not leaving the rifle to the same fate.

Amanda made no move or word to suggest she could use the weapon, and in a small way Jack was pleased. He did not doubt that she would be able to fire a shot off should the need arise, but where that shot went could be crucial. He did not want to insinuate his lack of faith, and her silence meant he did not need to.


Of the remaining accumulated items, very little could be deemed important enough to burden them on their scouting walk. Jack eyed the clutter critically, discarding and calculating as he roved over the pile. Most of the collection had some usefulness, but not in their current situation. Hauling it around the village was out of the question. Then he saw the small box by his right foot.

He could not remember putting down the snake box, but at some point he must have. He gazed down at it, like a spaceman discovering a new rock on the moon, someone looking at something they knew couldn’t possibly be dangerous, but...

He lifted the box and without opening it, slid it and its contents into his pocket. He felt compelled to take it; commanded almost. He couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to the serpent pendants than was visible to his eye. That alone was reason enough to keep it in his possession, but in the back of his mind was the suspicion of their owner. If he was correct to assume they had been possessions of the Floor Dweller, leaving them behind was an invitation to have them reclaimed and lost again.

Amanda appeared beside him, her arms stacked with small finds from the kitchen. She dropped it gently beside one of the piles.

”Any of it too good to leave behind?” he asked.

“Just a box of matches.”

”You got any pockets?”

”Yeah.”

“It can’t hurt to take them, I suppose.”

Amanda picked the matches from the pile and pushed them into one of her pockets.

She looked at Jack and asked, “Are we ready?”

”As we’ll ever be,” Jack said raising from the floor and dusting his knees.

“Let’s go and see what we can see.”