the smuggler’s bible


There is a piercing light and a weight that strikes Hamlet in the shoulder, carrying him off his feet and spinning him through the air. He lands hard. Already his blood is on the floor.

Should have heard something, he thinks. Too loud, though. Sounds like someone is ringing a bell. Guildenstern appears, mouth moves like he’s speaking, but that goddamn bell.

“Better … deserve,” he says, “… killing … brother.” Then he’s gone. Some sort of interference—hard to follow his movements, to see anything except a blue light that flickers and extends an arm, pointing.

Hamlet lifts his gun and fires.