.././.\\.\//

The honor of deciding which three cards they'll use for the game goes to Glenn. He chooses sevens: two reds and a black. He reasons it'll be harder for Zandra to "see" the black seven—the money card—if it's the same number as the other two. The backs of the three sevens are free of blemishes or folds. After Glenn lays the three cards face down, Zandra will get two chances to guess which card is the black seven.

Glenn thinks I have one in three odds of getting it right. Someone else might say that my first guess has a two in three chance of not being wrong, but that means my second guess's odds would be worse, not better. After thinking on it for a minute, some supposed smarty pants might tell you I've got a 50-50 chance of picking the money card, but they wouldn't be nearly as confident as I am about winning the game. If you believe in psychic powers, you might say I've got a 100 percent chance of picking the black seven.

But all of that must be figured into the number of times the game will be played: three. Three life-or-death rounds. Does that multiply the odds of winning? Divide? Square root it?

Those answers aren't as important as how people approach these calculations. They use shortcuts—conventional wisdom—and those spell opportunity for people like me. Just because something seems obvious doesn't mean it is.

It is obvious, however, to Chad what the stakes are if Zandra gets the first round wrong. He's up first.

Stop whimpering over there, Chad. You sound like a puppy getting a Bob Barker. Don't you trust me?

Glenn rolls a stump over to use as a table. A chainsaw created two flat ends some time ago, probably during cleanup after a storm. He shows the three sevens to Zandra. She nods in approval. He sets the cards down, face up, on the stump, and then takes out three large, dark handkerchiefs.

Three? He's going to wrap up Chad and Bexley, too. It'll be easier to slit their throats if they don't see the blade coming. Good call, Glenn.

Glenn blinds his three captives with the handkerchiefs. He's careful to wrap up any possible gaps below Zandra's eyes and along either side of the boney parts of her nose. Those can form peepholes popular with stage magicians.

Chad and Bexley stay quiet as Glenn mixes up the three sevens on the stump. He takes his time, making sure Zandra can't catch any clues from the sounds of cards shuffling. With a light touch, he drops each card facedown on the stump. He places small rocks over the top of each card to prevent the breeze from blowing the cards over.

The handkerchief slips down to Zandra's chin. Glenn waves a hand over the stump like a game show host and says, "Let the games begin."

They started three minutes ago.

"Oh...oh, uh...oh, fuck...," Chad says and shakes. The branches in the tree above his head rattle their leaves.

Zandra looks the three cards over.

The rocks are a nice touch.

"Well?" Glenn says. The tactical knife is back in his hand.

The first guess is a freebie.

"The card on the left," Zandra says.

"My left or your left?" Glenn says, since he's on the opposite side of the stump from Zandra.

"Mine, child," Zandra says. "Now turn the other two cards over, one at a time."

Glenn uses the spine of the knife to scoot the rock off the right card. He flips the card over with the tip of the knife. "Red."

Good. That means the left card might still be the money card. It could be the middle one, too.

A handful of leaves fall onto Chad's lap.

Glenn waves the knife over the remaining two facedown cards and says, "You get to change your guess if you want. I don't know what good it'd do, though. It's 50-50 that one of these two cards is the black seven."

Right there. That's the shortcut, the conventional wisdom. That means it's time for some fuckery.

"I switch my guess to the middle card," Zandra says.

Chad makes a choking sound that Zandra ignores. Bexley is silent on an atomic level.

"You sure?" Glenn says. "You can't read my mind to figure out where the card is, because I don't even know. I didn't look."

I know, Glenn. Your eyes or your hands would normally give you away. They'd get pulled like a magnet over to the money card, ever so slightly. Even the knife would behave differently over the black seven versus the two red sevens. Maybe in a tilt in the blade. Maybe the tip points at it. Maybe a roll of the handle in Glenn's hand. The brain hates lying, so there's always a tell.

But not this time. He really doesn't know which of the cards is the black seven.

"I choose the middle card, child," Zandra says as her stomach drops into her knees. She's still confident about her choice to switch the original guess, but there is zero room for error. These could be the last moments of Chad's life.

Chad hangs his head into his chest and sobs.

Be quiet. Glenn will call this stupid game off and skip right to the killing part if he thinks the cops can hear us.

Glenn turns the middle card over.

Zandra leans forward to see if it's the black seven.

Glenn pushes the tip of the knife into the stump and corrals the three sevens into a pile. "Lucky guess."

You get to live to be a dumbfuck another day, Chad.

"It was a black seven," Zandra says as Glenn lifts the handkerchief back over her eyes. Zandra's vision goes dark. "You're safe, Chad."

Chad's head continues to droop. He sobs unabated.

You're welcome. No need to thank me for saving your life.

"Next game is for this pretty thing," Glenn says.

"Her name is Bexley," Zandra says.

"I don't really give a fuck," Glenn says. "But I might call this round off if she can show me a little something."

Bexley doesn't react.

He's pissed he lost, and he's trying to reassert himself. You'd think he'd be used to losing by now.

"You've got two more chances to not be a loser," Zandra says. "Let's save the needle dicking for another day."

"What did you just say?" Glenn says.

"Deal the cards or I start screaming," Zandra says.

"Fine. Bitch," Glenn says and lays the cards out on the stump once more. He tugs the handkerchief off Zandra's eyes. "You're up."

The cards and the rocks look about the same as last time. Zandra rests her eyes on each card for a full 10 seconds, partially to play the part as psychic, but mostly to think.

Glenn says he's doing all of this at random. Do I think he's clever enough to lie about that for the purposes of misdirection? Because if I sincerely believe this is random, then there's a one in three chance that the black seven will be in the middle once again. That means I'd be more likely to choose either the right or left card. Of course, you could say that about any of the cards, since the game is weighted equally across all options if this is truly random.

Assuming Glenn assumes that I assume that that's the case, then he could rig this second round by placing the black seven in the middle. He sounded pissed off enough just now that he might consider doing that.

But that means he has the mental capacity to figure this all out. And if he does...

"Are you going to choose a card or what?" Glenn says and pulls the knife out of the stump.

"I'm visualizing. You wouldn't understand," Zandra says.

"Well, visualize faster. You're the one who told me to hurry this up," Glenn says.

Anyway, if Glenn has the mental capacity to pull this little trick on me, then he'd also be smart enough to know that I know. Therefore, he'd put the black seven in either the right or left position.

Glenn picks at his teeth with the knife while he waits for Zandra.

On the other hand, nothing about Glenn screams mental magician. I'll just go with the card that's at the top of mind. This isn't half as complicated as I'm making it out to be.

"Middle," Zandra says.

Glenn spits whatever he dug out of his teeth onto the ground. He slides the rock off the left card first.

"Red," Zandra says.

"I can see that," Glenn says.

"I wasn't saying it for your sake," Zandra says.

Bexley can't see the cards, dumb fuck.

"OK, then do you want to tell Bexley if you're going to switch your guess before I turn over another card?" Glenn says.

Bexley is silent.

"Switch it," Zandra says. "I choose the right card."

Glenn sneers. "Whatever. Makes no difference. You're just trying to look smart, like you know something."

Yes. I know something you don't.

"Turn the cards over," Zandra says.

Glenn flips over the last two cards.

Zandra leans closer to be sure she sees it.

The right card is the black seven. Damn, that feels good.

"You're safe, Bexley," Zandra says.

Bexley exhales and leans against Chad. Zandra can almost feel the relief.

"Getting it right once, that's luck. Twice? That's bullshit. You're cheating," Glenn says.

Zandra coughs and says, "Child, how could I possibly be cheating? I'm not even touching the cards."

"You said your powers mean you're only a little better than chance. Now you win twice in a row?"

"Think about this, child," Zandra says. "If my third eye makes me a little better than chance, wouldn't I win twice? Pure chance is winning once out of three times, right? So I do a little better, and I win twice in a row."

"That means you're due to lose," Glenn says.

"Exactly. And it's just in time for it to be my turn," Zandra says with just a hint of glee.

Sure, I could die, but it's always fun to fuck with Glenn.

Glenn pulls the handkerchief over Zandra's eyes for a third time. The cards shuffle, the rocks go down over the cards, and the handkerchief comes up.

"Well?" Glenn says.

This time, Zandra looks into Glenn's eyes, not at the cards.

Twitch in his left eyelid. Slight squinting in both eyes. A little tilt in the angle of his head. None of that was there before.

He rigged it. I'm sure of it.

"I'm going to choose a card, and then you're going to flip them all over at once," Zandra says.

"Those aren't the rules we agreed to," Glenn says, arms crossed with both hands out of view.

He's probably palming a card.

"It doesn't change the odds one bit, does it?" Zandra says.

"No," Glenn says.

"Then why not do it?"

"Rules are rules."

Zandra makes a point to aim her eyes at Glenn's crossed arms. His nose wrinkles just a little bit as he inhales a small shot of air in alarm.

He knows that I know.

"Do you want to reset the cards and try this again?" Zandra says.

Glenn is quiet for a second, and then he says, "Why would I want to do that?"

"Because."

"Because?"

"Because."

The two stare each other down.

"Zandra, pick a card. Now," Glenn says.

It's not going to matter which one I pick, is it? Those sevens are all red. He's got the black seven palmed. He'll switch it in so that I lose.

"Left," Zandra says, choosing a card at random.

Glenn leaves the left card be for now. With one hand still tucked into his armpit, he turns over the middle card first.

This one will be red, because Glenn didn't use the hand that's got the card palmed.

"Red," Glenn says.

"I'll switch," Zandra says. Panic brews in her guts. "I choose the right card."

Glenn doesn't turn over the two remaining cards at the same time, as he did before. Instead, he quickly removes his hand from his armpit, flips the left card over, and tucks his hand back into his armpit.

"Black," Glenn says. "You guessed wrong."

Oh, shit.