The Bet
          by Jeremiah Allsman          

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        In the midst of dusk, where prostitutes stood on the corner of the street, and the homeless sat in narrow crevices, Josh Allyn lit his cigarette and walked to Andy's Tavern. Andy welcomed Josh with a grin, "Allyn, what you been up to?" He finished drying a crystal glass. Josh tossed two-dollar bills on the table.
        "Brandy." He said.
        "You been hearin' those stories?" Josh took a swift drink.
        "What stories?" He asked. Andy's eyes narrowed.
        "Well, folks been talkin' bout the motel down the street. Some folks was killed down there yesterday. Listen here." He turned on the radio next to him and adjusted it to the right station. The announcer said the headline: madman disembowels another victim. Josh listened to the announcer tell the story and then looked up at Andy.
        "What's this got to do with me?" He asked. Andy poured himself a beer.
        "How old would you say I am?" He asked. Josh shrugged his shoulders.
        "Oh, I don't know, sixty, seventy years old?"
        "I'm sixty eight, I'm too old to keep up with this bar anymore," he took a drink.
        "Andy, I don't understand," Josh said.
        "Are you a gambling man?" Josh's eyes narrowed.
        "Sometimes, why?"
        "I won this bar off a poker game. What would you say if I bet you this bar, that you couldn't survive one night in that motel?"
        "I'd assume that you were joking."
        "I've never been more serious, what's your answer?"
        "All right." Josh finished his brandy and the next day he checked into the motel around seven o'clock. He walked to his room and unlocked the door. As he glanced about the room, he noticed chalk outlines of bodies, a peephole in the door that was missing its lens, torn sheets, and bloodstains everywhere. "What the hell am I doing here?" He said to himself. He walked over to the bed and sat down. He felt wetness underneath him and he moved to find the sheets soaked with blood. "My God, they didn't even change the sheets."
        What came next was the difficult task of removing the sheets and redressing the bed. He wasn't afraid, not even a little, disgusted was the right word. He cased the pillow and walked down to the main office to request new sheets from the man he had bribed to stay the night. The request was honored and Josh began resheeting his bed. Dusk swept over his room and housekeeping knocked quietly at his door. Josh walked to the door and opened several different locks keeping the door tightly shut. "Your food, sir," said the bellboy with a bad British accent.
        "Um, yeah, here." He handed the bellboy twenty dollars and quickly locked the door. Josh walked in the bathroom and began to wash his face.
        When he looked into the mirror, Andy's reflection gleamed back at him from behind. "That crazy old bastard," he said. Josh turned around to see Andy in a bellboy's outfit. "Jesus, Andy. You scared the hell right out of me. What are you doing here anyway, came to check up on me?"
        "No, I'm here to kill you, like I did with the last poor, dumb, bastard I bet couldn't spend the night here."
        "You're joking, right?"
        "I've never been more serious." He grabbed Josh tightly around the throat. Josh struggled, but couldn't shake off Andy's grip. Suddenly, an ax smashed through the door, a hand holding a gun slid through the opening, and shot Andy in the back of the head. Josh pulled the lifeless hands from his neck.
        "I've been tracking that mother for weeks," said the man with the gun.
        Josh recognized him as the bellhop who had delivered his food.
        "How did you know?" Josh asked.
        "Trey McKenzy, Winchester Police." He raised his badge. "When I brought you your food, I saw a man's foot in your closet. I didn't arrest him then because I wasn't sure that it was our man. But with the working theory, I waited by your door and occasionally looked in the peephole. Sure enough, it was him."
        "Why did he kill all those people?"
        "My guess is insanity. The funny thing was that they all were said to have been friends with him. One of the guys in the bar said he over heard Andy and another man discussing a bet. Probably the same bet he made with you and the others. You're lucky. Sorry about all the trouble."
        In the midst of dusk, where prostitutes stood on the corner of the street, and the homeless sat in narrow crevices, Josh Allyn drove out of town, never to return.

Copyright 1998 Jeremiah Allsman