Dead Man's Hand

290 words

Gammy Jas spilled cards across the table, her arthritic hands still held a dealer's grace. Matty Ace, Pace Matterhorn by birth, watched in anxious silence.

"Matty," she cleared her throat violently, "how's your love life?"

His eyes narrowed and one eyebrow arched, "It's . . . pretty brutal." There was no reason to lie. Gammy was no fool, and her cards never failed.

She gave an audible grunt and carried on. Matty tried to see what she saw in the cards; but, it was no use. If he could read cards, or people, he wouldn't have gotten into this mess; and, "Jimmy the Tooth" would still be breathing. Gammy Jas poured over her spread, shaking her head.

"Matty, I'm getting nothing. There's too much interference in this place, it could go either way. . . Let me have your hands."

Matty's head swam; but, he obeyed. Gammy's talons scraped across his palms in jagged sweeps. She clicked her tongue, making strange guttural sounds in her throat, then dropped his hands. Her milky eyes fixed onto his as a buzzer sounded and a guard announced visitation was over. She leaned in before leaving, through a wry smiled she hissed, "Death, Matty . . . Death within a day."

*********************************************

Pace Matterhorn lie quietly, strapped to his death bed, as his executioners readied the lethal injection. They placed a needle into his arm, noting his curious grin, eerie, almost joyous.

"Any last words?"

"Her cards never lie; nor her palm-reading . . . it's always wrong. Dead Wrong. Dea --."

"rrriiiiing. rrrriiiing."

Salvation through a phone-line, the Governor had called.