MAKE MY DAY.

Would you rather I didn't see? Mae said, standing beside Brand who stood poised holding a gun at Claxton's head. Claxton was sitting in a chair bound by ropes around his arms. Brand‘s hand was shaking slightly; his eyes seemed focussed on his victim's head as if glued there.

Best if you didn't, Brand said, makes an awful mess. Go look out the window or stand outside the damned door and wait for me. Claxton looked from one to the other with anxious eyes; he would have said something, but his mouth was gagged with black tape.

Mae stared at Claxton momentarily; wondered if Brand would really pull the trigger; what it'd be like to watch the gun go off; whether she wanted to watch anyway, if she did what she'd make of it. Isn't there some other way? she asked, turning her eyes from Claxton and setting them on Brand.

Brand sighed. Held his gun hand with the other hand; tried to steady his aim. No, he said, pointing the gun more purposely at the head before him. He's had this coming; he's had this damned thing coming for ages.

Claxton stared at Brand's hands and hoped to Hell the gun didn't go off accidentally and scare the pants off him. He made a noise to attract Brand, a kind of grunting sound as if he were trying to hum a tune.

Shut up, Claxton, you've had your say, Brand shouted, pushing the gun into Claxton's cheek.

Hold up, Brand, Mae said, wishing to Hell Brand would cool down. There has to be a better way than this; there must be other ways to get the creep back than this.

Brand looked at her sideways; his eyes dark and painful; his lips curled as if he were about to swear at her, but didn't. He sighed deeply; held the gun upright for a moment or two; waved it slowly in the air. Go out the damned door, Mae, you're making me nervous with your yakking.

And leave you here with him? Mae said. You aren't in any fit state to go kill anyone, Brand, least of all Claxton. She put out her hand for the gun, but Brand held it out of her each. So, he slept with your wife and that has got you hot, bothered, and angry, but Hell, Brand, you've been sleeping with me, so what sense does it make to go shoot this creep when you've been doing the same darn thing?

That's different, Brand said. She was my wife. She ought to have known better. He placed the gun at Claxton's head again. His finger touching the trigger.

How the Hell do you make that out? Mae said, standing beside Claxton; staring at Brand with her cool blue eyes.

What? I let the creep go? Let him just wander off with no payback? Brand said angrily.

Claxton couldn't see Brand anymore because Mae stood in front of him. He allowed himself a small glimmer of hope; a slight touch of faith crept into his head and settled there like a lazy dog.

Look, Brand, Mae said, if you shoot this guy, you're up for murder and me too for being an accomplice. I don't want to go away for life or be injected with some death stuff. I want to live. I want you. She spread out her arms as if she were about to take off in flight.

Get the Hell away from him, Brand said, pointing the gun at Mae. Don't give me all the words; I'm passed the word stage now; I'm into the acting stage. He waved the gun in front of Mae, gesturing with it to get her to move.

There was a flash with sound coming a little after; Mae fell backwards onto Claxton; then slid downwards on to the floor. Claxton's head was tilted forward; blood seemed to have splattered his head and jacket. The wall behind was splattered, too, as if Jackson Pollock had been employed and had only got as far as the one colour.

Brand stared in disbelief, his eyes scanning the floor where Mae lay motionless. Blood seeped from beneath her; her blonde hair was stained red in places; her hands were spread out like one crucified. He dropped the gun to his side; went over to where Mae lay and turned her over. She was dead. He'd killed her, Claxton, too, both with the one bullet. He sat down beside Mae's body and touched her cheek. Then after a brief moment of reflection, he held the gun at his head, pulled the trigger, and saw neither flash nor heard sound as the bullet made its way through bone and brain.