.././.\\.\//.

A sharp gust of wind pushes the two overturned cards off the stump. They flutter to the ground, leaving one remaining beneath a small rock.

"Remember, witch, you promised not to scream," Glenn says to Zandra.

And I'll keep that promise. He's still got one hand tucked into his armpit, out of sight.

"You're not any good at cheating," Zandra says. "You swapped cards. There's a red seven behind your back."

"Nuh uh," Glenn says like he's back on the playground. He untucks his hand and opens his palm to show there's nothing inside. "You'd know all about cheating, but you're wrong this time."

He dropped the red seven behind his back. I don't need to mention that, though.

The two cards in the dirt are a black seven and a red seven.

And if a red seven is behind Glenn's back, that means the one card that's left on the stump isn't a red seven. A pack of cards only comes with two red sevens: a diamond and a heart.

"Turn over the last card, child," Zandra says.

"Why? The game is over. You lost," Glenn says.

"Turn it over."

"No."

"Don't I get one last request before I die?"

"No."

Glenn squeezes the handle of the tactical knife.

"You don't have to do this," Bexley says in a whisper.

Glenn snorts. "Rules are rules."

"You didn't play by the rules. You rigged the last game," Zandra says, feeling loquacious to buy her time to think. "You put two red sevens on the stump, plus another red card. I'd bet it's a six or an eight, so that the suit symbols on the card are close to a seven. Then you palmed the black seven. You figured the odds of me choosing the six or eight were one in three, which would've blown up your horseshit plan. The odds of me choosing one of the red sevens, allowing you to swap in the black seven without revealing the six or eight, were two in three.

"That's what you thought, but you should've taken it a step further. Since I get to switch my guess, the odds of you overturning six or eight are two in three. You simply lucked out that the last card on the stump is the six or eight.

"You might've gotten away with it had you not sucked so hard at swapping the black seven in. Maybe you should try again with a better plan, dumb fuck.

"Now, Glenn, child, turn over the last card on the stump."

Another blast of breeze blows the red seven out from behind Glenn. Almost as if by telekinesis, it helicopters onto the red and black sevens on the ground.

Glenn stares in disbelief.

"Are we done here?" Zandra says. "This was fun, but I've got other things to do."

Glenn comes at Zandra with the knife. She rolls to get away, but he stops her with a boot on the back. He presses to keep her belly in the dirt and flips the knife so that the tip points downward.

Zandra turns her face so she can spit out dirt and tell Bexley and Chad to start screaming.

"Relax. I'm letting you go," Glenn says. He lowers the tip of the tactical knife into a small hole on one of the handcuffs. He gives the knife a twist, and the cuff unlocks. He repeats this with the other handcuff and helps Zandra to her feet.

Zandra spits dirt into Glenn's face.

"Here's an idea, asshole. Let someone know you're not planning on killing them when you come at them with a fucking knife. Fuck," Zandra says and rips the blindfold away.

"I was never good with that stuff," Glenn says.

"Maybe that's why you're always doing your heavy work alone."

"Stop it. You're being mean now."

You're the most fragile assassin I know, Glenn. An emotionally damaged man ready to kill. It's a wonder you haven't made friends with the millions of others just like you in this country.

Glenn unlocks the handcuffs from Chad and Bexley, too. They start back for the car the second the blindfolds come off. Zandra hangs back.

They left their stuff. I'll get it for them.

"You going to shoot them or what?" Zandra says to Glenn before Chad and Bexley's outlines are completely covered by foliage.

"No. It's not going to make a difference anyway," Glenn says as he kits up. "You need good gear, a boat, and a winch, plus someone who knows what to do with all that, to get that haul up from the bottom of the river. There's no way you three have any of that. I don't have to beat you to the Curd Queen. All I need to do is go get that stuff."

Zandra finishes stuffing her pockets full. "And what do you plan on doing with it then?"

Glenn kicks the stump over. "What's it matter to you? You were never a part of this in the first place."

"Just curious."

"Well, here's the short version. Aaron fucked with the wrong people. He got warned. Now he's dead, and now those people are taking back what's theirs."

Zandra lights up a cigarette. She offers one to Glenn. He hesitates at first, but he takes one. His first drag makes him cough.

How many times have these drugs been stolen?

"I got warned to stay away, and then you killed me. Now I'm here again, and now you're warning me again," Zandra says.

"Yeah. Next time, I kill you until you stay dead. That's how this works," Glenn says. He makes a retching sound and drops the cigarette to the ground. He stamps the cherry out with his boot before it catches the pine needles on fire. "Hey, Zandra, level with me. Did you really die?"

Oh, Glenn.

Zandra smiles to herself. "Did you really pull the trigger?"

"Yeah."

"Then I must've really died," Zandra says. She waves to Glenn and heads for the trail.

Glenn returns the wave with a stupid grin on his scarred face. "Goodbye, Zandra. I hope I don't see you again."

Zandra drags her bad ankle back to Ray's car. She half mistakes Chad and Bexley for two dead people sitting in the front seats. They're catatonic, facing forward frozen in the front seats, and not at all responsive when Zandra enters the car. Zandra empties the contents of her pockets onto the backseat.

"Grandma's house," Zandra says after waiting a solid minute for Chad to start driving. He finally does, slowly and deliberately guiding the car away from the river.

You can't tell me they're not at least a little bit familiar with almost getting their throats slit.

A couple miles' drive later, Bexley says, "I didn't like that."

"Yeah, Glenn's a total prick," Zandra says.

"No, not that. You," Bexley says.

Me?

"The way you just offered us up like that. I didn't like that," Bexley says.

Zandra doesn't reply. Instead, she tells Chad to stop the car. He does, pulling over by a sidewalk on the University of Wisconsin-Stevens Point campus. Zandra hobbles out.

"Just like that, huh?" Bexley says under her breath.

Zandra goes to a bulletin board planted in the grass next to the sidewalk. Even in the era of all things internet, sun-bleached flyers stapled to bulletin boards near the university remain a solid way to quickly advertise to debt-laden students. One of the flyers looks familiar to Zandra. She tears it away. The words and images are faded, but she can make it out.

One of my old flyers for palm readings. I'd recognize it anywhere.

Zandra folds the flyer into fourths and places it in her pocket. She heads back into the car.

"What'd you grab?" Bexley says.

"Something for later," Zandra says from the backseat. "Let's keep going."

Bexley doesn't mention her previous concerns again. Chad turns the radio on and cranks the volume up. Zandra feels an eruption as the bass speakers in the trunk send shockwaves to the moon.

Those speakers must be worth more than the car itself.

They're also worth an aspirin when Zandra gets back to "grandma's house." The deep, bellowing bass gave her a headache. Ironically, aspirin, acetaminophen, and ibuprofen are three drugs not available in the house.

As well as something else that would help that headache...

Chad and Bexley talk to each other with lowered voices in the kitchen while Zandra stretches out on the couch with a fresh cigarette. She pulls out the pack of poker cards and shuffles. One at a time, she counts 52 playing cards, the two jokers, and a rules card.

Glenn didn't mess these up. This is still an ordinary pack of cards, the same as any other.

"Are you two done moping in there?" Zandra calls out to the kitchen when she's finished.

Bexley pokes her head around the corner into the living room. An unlit cigarette dangles out of the corner of her mouth. "Are you done being fucking awful?"

Oh, please.

"Awful? Fucking awful? I saved your life," Zandra says.

"You don't get credit for saving our lives when you were the one who put us there in the first place," Bexley says, pausing to light her cigarette. She takes a puff and ashes onto an old newspaper on the floor. "That's like a firefighter setting a fire and then showing up to put it out."

Zandra squares up the cards. "You were never in danger, child."

Well, maybe a little, but she doesn't need to know that.

"Three-card monte? Like, what the fuck, Zandra?" Bexley says. She disappears back into the kitchen. She and Chad chug beers, one of them belches, and then they both sit down in the living room with bags of chips.

I still need these two shit skulls. I've got an idea for tonight's stalk of the cul-de-sac house, but I can't do it alone.

Zandra slides the TV tray over. She places two red sevens and a black seven on the tray, all face up.

"Now, child, would you like to see why you were never in danger?" Zandra says.