Troy stared at the gun on the table. The revolver's chamber could hold six rounds. He watched the man pick it up and open the cylinder to load the bullets.

"We're going to play this game," the man said. "Ever take a loaded gun, point it against your head, and pull the trigger? It's fun. Especially when you know what the bullets will do."

Troy tried not to show fear. He knew his actions brought him here and caused this meeting. The fear felt like a large ball of cotton stuck in throat.

"Now is the part when you kneel," the man said once the revolver was fully loaded with six bullets. He snapped the cylinder back in place.

Troy felt hands on his shoulders that pushed him down to his knees. His arms were pulled out to form a T. His chin placed on the table where the gun had lain.

"I'm not going to bother with spinning the cylinder," the man said. "Every chamber is loaded. These are hollow points, by the way. Know what they do? Turn your brain into mush. If you're found after this - and you won't be, but in case that happens - they won't hold an open casket for you."

Troy tried to struggle, but he was tightly held and barely moved.

"Squirm all you like. I enjoy watching the fight occur. Knowing death is imminent. What part of your lizard brain kicks in to avoid it? Have you peed yet? Check his pants."

Troy felt the person next to him bend over to see the front of his trousers.

"Nope," the man said. "Dry."

"Better than some. I like a clean floor. You have my respect," the man said. "For that, I'm going to take out two bullets. Instead of six out of six, you're now four out of six. Like that?"

Troy managed to indicate a nod by pushing his chin down on the table. He guessed three people held him. One for each arm; and a third keeping his head in place. The one holding his head stood on Troy's calves. With death looming, Troy didn't feel the pressure on his legs. He tried to control his breathing so he wouldn't pass out. He was impressed, too, that he hadn't let his bladder or bowels go. Yet.

"A question: What did you do with the stash you found in the woods?" the man asked. Troy felt the pressure on his head loosen just enough for him to lift his chin off the table to speak. But just barely.

"It's in my garage," he said. "My house backs up to the woods and my kids found it. I put it in the garage for now and told them I'd take care of it."

"So it should still be there?"

"Yes."

The man looked behind Troy and must have received a cue of some sort.

"You're right. Stash is still there," the man said. "That's another round for you. Three out of six. Your luck is improving. "

Troy watched the bullet slide from the cylinder. It landed with a loud thud on the table.

The man closed the cylinder and spun it.

"Ready to play 50/50, or shall we continue?" he asked.

By this time, the part of Troy's brain that wasn't consumed with self preservation understood what was happening. As long he told the truth, he may survive.

"Another question," the man said after a few moments passed. "Did your kids tell anyone about the stash?"

Troy wanted to say no. But he didn't know for sure.

"I don't know," he said. "I doubt it."

"You're not even going to try and lie to me, are you?" the man said with a slight smile. "Can't tell you the number of times I've had someone scream a lie at me, thinking it would spare them. Only made me want to kill them quicker."

Troy looked at him. He had resigned himself to the fact that he was about to die. He felt oddly at peace with that. His mind clear. No worries about work, the mortgage, the houses, Sue or the boys. They got away in time. The last picture Sue had sent showed the back of the boys' heads. Their hair was bleached blonde now, no doubt an attempt to disguise. Sue wasn't in the photo and hadn't sent a shot of her. No doubt she was disguised, too. He hoped they got away.

"Where's the family?" the man asked. "We've watched the house closely. No runs to the grocery store or to school or the ballfields. Seen nothing but you in the last few days. Did you tell them to run?"

"Yes," Troy said.

"Where?"

"I have no idea. I told her don't let me know. Just take the boys and run," Troy said.

"So you knew you had something to worry about?"

"I got spooked picking up my sons one day. I saw the same vehicle that had been parked on our street," Troy said. "It was in front of a house that has an old man who lives alone. He never comes out."

"Very observant."

"I work from home and walk the dog a lot," Troy said.

"Good," the man. He opened the cylinder and emptied two more chambers. "I think the honesty and powers of observation are worth two more bullets."

He snapped the cylinder into place and pointed it at Troy.

"Down to one now. My how the tables have turned for you."

"I wouldn't say that. You're still pointing a gun at me."

"True," the man said. "For the last bullet, I'm willing to make a deal. Come work for me. I need someone who's legit. Who notices things. Who tells the truth. And who keeps a cool head when a gun is pointed at them. You check those boxes."

He pushed the gun against Troy's temple and cocked the weapon. "What do you say? You'll get what you deserve. I'll make sure of it."