Rules
Originally published in the Eureka College Literary Magazine, Impressions (2015)
The game was tag. Everyone scattered as it –currently one Jason Colls-- began the countdown from ten. He was supposed to be interjecting a four-syllable reading of “Mis-si-ssi-ppi” between each number, but everyone was lucky to get half that. As he reached zero, he began with a sprint towards Jack Torres — the Jack Torres with a gimpy leg. The lame are always the first to go.
“Tag, you’re it, Torres.”
A gunshot rang out, shaking the walls of the surrounding buildings, the leaves on the oak tree Sarah Greenson was standing behind, and the skull of Jack Torres. He fell in a heap. The game stopped as a few of the boys moved Jack’s lifeless body out of the way. Safety is everything.
The game resumed. Jason’s next target was Lizzy Anderson. She was one of the nicest girls he’d ever met when he thought about it, but he wasn’t thinking about it.
“You’re it, Lizzy!” Another gun shot. Her leg collapsed as she yelled from the impact.
Again everyone scattered. It was the sound of the next gunshot that stopped them from running. It was Philip Andrews.
Phillip’s body was moved out of the playing field. Sarah Greenson had now climbed up the oak tree she had previously been standing behind; Stewart Riggs was crouched in position, ready to dodge any approaching threat.
Jason went after Sarah first. Her only option of escape would have been to jump, which surely would have killed her. After a slip or two of his worn red sneakers and a fear of heights, Jason got her. The gun fired in unison with the bell tower of the nearby church. It missed.
“Time out!” Jason yelled. “This isn’t fair. I tagged her!”
“You know the rules, Jason;” Alex chimed in. “She gets ten seconds to run away.”
“That’s stupid.”
“You always think the rules are stupid."
"Just the stupid ones."
“It’s just a game, Jason.”
“Just shut up, Alex! I’m so sick of your ‘everyone’s a winner’ attitude, or your ‘don’t take things so seriously’ bullshit. It’s a game! Somebody has to win! That’s why there are rules to begin with. If it didn’t matter who won, why would there be rules at all? So don’t tell me, “It’s just a game!’”
“Can’t we just get back to playing already?!” Stewart said. "I’m getting bored.”
“Remember, we all get fifteen seconds to get back to where we were since It called timeout,” Alex said.
The countdown hit zero and Jason again began the hunt. It was almost dark, and the distant bell tower chimed eight times to announce the hour’s arrival. The sound of a reloading rifle could be heard as the bell chimes faded into the coming darkness, an extra box of bullets placed alongside. The rules were clear: two shots per tag after dark.