The Wager

The Wager

“Did you do a Google search?”

“Of course I googled it! I did every search I could think of – I got nothing.”

Silence.

“Shit. It’s almost 5’o’clock.”

“I know.”

“He’s gonna be here any second!”

“I know, Jerry, let me think!”

He started tapping the sill of the window, a nervous habit that drives me crazy.

“Okay, look.” I turned around and grabbed him from the window. “Jerry… Jerry! Chill, okay? Just go look in the kitchen and see if he’s here.”

His eyes widened. “How would he have gotten in here without us knowing?”

I avoided answering and turned back to the computer. “It’s a trick of his,” I mumbled. “He likes to show up in unexpected places.”

The clock on my computer reached 5:00pm and froze.

I felt Jerry inhale shakily.

“Alright, fudge this shiat! I’m outta here.” He grabbed his backpack. “Peace and Love”, he blustered. His heavy boots thumped as he ran out of the apartment.

I watched him go – a pale, chubby, curly head kid with glasses and a over-sized yellow and blue stripped sweater. I put my head in my hands and waited for it.

Jerry stumbled back inside. His face was bloodless and drenched with sweat.

“It’s gone,” he said.

He sat down heavily, the pillowed couch enveloping him until the tops of his knees were almost level with his face.

“What’s gone?” I whispered. Real dread came over me as I saw his hands shaking. I grabbed the remote and turned the TV on.

I already knew, but I needed to see it.

“Everything.”

“Everybody?”

“It’s nothing out there, man. I walk out the door, take three steps and it just, ends. A wall of white nothing that goes on forever. There’s no other buildings, no trees, no sky.”

He starts crying softly. “Christ, there’s no sky.”

“No people?”

“No one, man. It’s fuckin’ empty. A fuckin’ void out there! There’s us and there’s nothing – that’s it.”

I closed my eyes. “So, we really lost.”

“Of course we lost! If we had won, we would not be in fuckin’ purgatory.”

I look at him sharply. “We are not in purgatory. Stop being stupid.”

Jerry started crying again. He took off his glasses and cleaned them on his sweater “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this. One hundred years of servitude, really? Who even makes that sort of bet?”

I sat down next to him, my feet barely touching the ground. I couldn’t believe we lost. This crap doesn’t happen in real life.

One hundred years.

I shuddered. The guy had even warned me I was taking the bet too lightly.

“Yeah, I suck.” I agreed morosely.

We stared at the TV silently. Every channel was the same image – a missing persons report with Jerry and I highlighted in the photos.

“Fuck.” I said softly.

“I can’t believe we lost.”

We sat there and waited for the winner, a Mr. Rumpelstiltskin, to collect his payment.

“One hundred years, ” I said in disbelief as a gnarled hand grabbed my shoulder and dragged me towards the white endless nothing.

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