Charlie Checkers

The violins sounded sweet in the night air. Glasses of cool champagne, strong whiskey and thick cigar smoke were present, all adding to the atmosphere of the party. A great house, stood over the people, illuminated by the lanterns and lights decorating it for the occasion. A small bell rang, and suited waiters brought over black trays, on which there were small slips of folded paper.

“Ladies and Gentlemen” said the head waiter. “Please take a slip of paper and remember the number written on the inside”. The crowd obliged, and before long everyone had one. The band, as if signalled, stopped playing. At the top of the house, was a veranda. Behind it, two double doors swung open. Through it, walked a tall man with slicked back hair and a powdered white face.

The crowd thought he looked a little peculiar, almost like a ventriloquist’s doll. He rose his arms in the air, as if conducting an orchestra, and laughed warmly. “My dear friends” he sang. “I am thrilled to welcome you all to tonight’s game”. The crowd eyes each other, not sure what he was referring to. “Each of you have been given a number, between one and five.”

“What’s this all about, Sir?” asked an older gentleman, with whiskers. “We were not told of any game.” The white-faced man’s expression fell. He eyed the old man, like a cat watching a mouse. “Allow me to explain” he said. “Each of you here tonight are staples of your community. Land-owners, trade tycoons, even royalty” he beckoned to a pair of ladies dressed in fine gowns. “However, among you, are criminals, cowards and liars”.

The crowd shifted uncomfortably. “Are you the host of this party, Sir?” said someone within the gathering. “Of course not, my friend” said the doll man. “I am merely a messenger. Your host will here within a matter of moments.” He looked up, at the road leading away from the house. “In fact, this might be him now”.

Headlights appeared at the top of the road, and screeching tyres hinted that a car was coming quickly. The crowd were murmuring amongst themselves. This was not the party they had been promised. The car swept up the drive, a large, black motor with dark windows. The driver door opened, and out stepped a burly man. Wearing a suit of faded green and an old cheese cutter, he drew a long blade from his coat. The crowd became nervous and began backing away.

“Ah, lords and ladies of County Fair” he rasped. He smiled wildly, several of his teeth stained black, others white, like a chessboard. “You’ll forgive me for the confusion, but there are a few among you who owe me money, quite a bit in fact”. “So, whilst we’re talking money, I’ve made a game of numbers. My associate above has introduced you to the concept”. The white-faced doll man giggled maniacally, his face now a haunting image.

The man went over to a table and plucked a cigar from it, lit it, and puffed oily smoke into the air. His jacket opened, revealing a large pistol tucked into a holster. “If you have a one, two or three, step here” he said, pointing at the ground. “Fours and fives, out there” pointing at the road outside the house.

The scared crowd looked down at their numbers and shuffled to their places. The man looked up at the doll man, winked and reached out into his coat. The doll man disappeared from the veranda. The man pulled out a deck of old cards. He flicked through them. Those who had gathered close to the house were standing nervously together, clutching the bits of paper. “Right then, you lot” barked the man. You can call me Charlie, Charlie Checkers. He grinned, his teeth giving away the nickname, like a bed of old checkers his mouth, black and white. “I believe there is one among you, called Lord Langley?” The group parted and a young man with a small moustache stood there.

Charlie eyed him intensely, his brow furrowed. Long moments passed throughout the silent glare. “Boys!” he shouted over the silent bands, knuckles white on their violins. “Give us a merry tune”. They quickly assembled and began to play. “Lord Langley” he said, never taking his gaze off him. “Do you have a favourite number?” “W-what?” stammered the Lord. “A favourite number” Charlie repeated. “I don’t know what you mean” the Lord replied.

“I’ll make it easy for you” Charlie said, and fanned out the deck of cards. “Pick one”. The Lord came forward and pulled a card from the deck. “I have a four”. “Indeed, you have” replied Charlie. Behind him, the doll face man appeared. “Precisely the number you have on that paper”. The Lord looked down at it. Before he could look up, Charlie grabbed him by the scruff if the neck.

“You owe me money, and tonight, the numbers decide your fate” he growled. He threw him back down. “Pick another card, make it count”. The Lord, terrified, picked another. “Let’s hope it isn’t another four.”

“Bad luck” said Charlie, grinning. The doll man laughed loudly, screeching into the night.

The road from the manor lay silent for a while. Like a thunderbolt, a black car tore through it. In it, Charlie and the doll man were laughing, all around them, were cards, covered in blood. On every one of them, was the number four.