Trapped

“I’m afraid we are out of options,” the old man laughed. “Not that you gave us any to begin with!”

Gareth sat, staring out at the thin line of the horizon. He didn‘t want to talk and kept his eyes locked forwards with a silent fury. It was his ritual. The only one that mattered. How had his entire life boiled down to this one simple fact?

He was going to die on this island.

There was nothing he could do except wait now. There was nothing either of them could do to stop what was about to happen. The sound of waves licked at the sand around his bare feet. Vultures encircled the air above. The sun ate the moisture out of his very skin, leaving him dry and cracked.

“Do the honours then?” the old man growled and poked a knowing head at the revolver in Gareth’s hand. He didn’t even know the old mans name. He thought he should ask, but pushed the idea as far away as possible. Not knowing made this easier.

It made everything easier.

“You’re good, don‘t forget that,” he said, finally.

A gunshot cracked. The old man slumped over. Blood pooled over the dips in the ground. It washed into the sea, turning everything red.

Gareth sat there for a long moment, still staring at the horizon. After what could have been days, he finally leant over and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket.

“It’s done,” Gareth mumbled after several more seconds of silence.

“Good,” the voice on the other end crackled. “come back to the condo, we have much to discuss brother!”