Young Writers Society

The table was all set, topped off with ceramic plates, knives, forks and whatever food you could possibly come to think of; biscuits, ham, wine, mashed potatoes, and even a pepperoni pizza. Samuel Talbone’s dark green eyes surveyed the table one final time, being meticulously certain that he did not forget a thing. Everything is perfect, he thought to himself, straightening his brown suit jacket and combing his short brown hair with his fingers.

The doorbell rang, and Samuel cleared the dust out of his throat. “Coming!” he yelled in his slight Irish accent. He shuffled to the front door and opened it up. “Stacy? You’re rarely to anything early,” he said to the tall, brown-eyed brunette.

She fixed her long, bushy hair and smiled devilishly. “What? Is there some sort of issue with doing something different for once? Taking a new approach to the way you live your life? You act as if doing something to defy a reputation is always a bad thing. Anyway, I’m here for good food and a drink, not to talk philosophy with you. What do you got?”

“Actually…I was wondering if you could wait until everyone is here before getting a drink,” Samuel replied as the two walked into the kitchen. There were seven glasses that sat side by side on the counter.

“Oh, you already poured us all drinks, I see…always extra prepared, aren’t you, Sam?”

Just then, the door bell rang again. “Coming!” Samuel yelled, before turning his head towards Stacy Martin. “Take a seat.”

He headed towards the front door and opened it, revealing an obese man wearing black framed glasses and a white dress shirt with black slacks. “Hello!” he said in a gruff and tough voice. “Samuel Talbone!”

“Evening, boss,” Samuel said. “Come in, have a seat at the table.”

“I think I’ll do just that!” the boss said, before starting towards the kitchen. “I suppose the drinks are laid out just as I requested them to be?”

“Yes, boss. Just as you requested.”

“Good, good!” he said as Samuel shut back the door. “This will be a most…interesting evening. Oh, why, hello there, Stacy!”

Stacy Martin walked past the boss as he hurried into the kitchen. “Excuse me, Sam, but could you let me know where the restroom is?”

The door bell rang again. “Uh…up the stairs and the first door on the right.”

“Thanks!” she said as she walked off, leaving Samuel to open the door again.

“Ah, Ted and Billy!” Samuel greeted the redheaded man and his seventeen-year-old son.

“Let’s just get this over with,” Ted said, storming into Samuel’s home. “Where are the drinks?”

“Uh…they will be ready in just a minute, we’re waiting for everyone to get here,” Samuel said as he shut the door. “Bosses orders, not mine.”

“But I want a drink now!” Billy Charn complained, stomping his feet on the ground. “You can’t stop me!”

“How old are you?” Samuel asked as the doorbell rang once more.

“Sevent-”

“That’s what I thought. Happy seventh birthday,” Samuel said as he opened the door once again. “Ah, Mr. and Mrs. River!”

The wrinkly, bald old man and his even older wife stood outside the door, dressed in manila suits and red ties. “Damn, it’s cold out here,” Frank said.

“Frankie! How many times do I have to remind you? Watch your language!” Ellen said as the married couple stepped into the house.

“Yes, especially in front of seven-year-olds,” Samuel jested as he shut the door.

“Well, looks like the gangs all here,” Stacy commented as she walked back into the living room. “Shall we take our seats?”

Samuel, Ted, Billy, Frank, Ellen and Stacy all walked into the kitchen where the boss stood, pouring an expensive wine into a tall glass. “Ah, good! I take it that everyone is here?”

“Everyone except…uh boss, I already poured the drink and it looked like you…dumped them all out.”

The boss cackled. “Absolutely correct! Here! Who wants the first drink?” he asked, raising the glass of expensive wine into the air. “You won’t get vintage like this every day!”

“I’ll take it. I swear I feel like I’m dying of thirst,” Stacy said, snatching the cup from the bosses hand and swigging down the wine, as the door bell rang once again.

The door bell rang once more. “I’ll get i-” Samuel started.

“No, I’ll get it,” Billy interrupted. “It’s the least I could do for you for being the only one to wish me a happy birthday. Save your leg energy.”

He started towards the front door. “Why did we invite him?” Samuel asked.

“It’s actually his birthday…?” Ted pondered.

Billy Charn opened the door, where a short black woman stood, dressed in a purple dress, her hair filled with jewels. “Oh, hey there…you’re…Sam’s son, aren’t you?” Elizabeth Gouten asked.

“Actually, no I’m…yes. Yes, I am Sam’s son,” he said, shutting the door and smiling.

“I hope you didn’t mind, Samuel, but you only pulled seven cups out when there are eight of us,” the boss said. “So I went and pulled out this fancy white mug.”

“Uh…that’s fine, boss,” Samuel replied.

The eight of them all ate together, enjoying good food and good company. Their meals were virtually the same apart from Billy, who ate six slices of pizza. Billy and Ted were the only two of the eight who did not drink alcoholic beverages on that night; Billy due to his young age, and Ted due to his previous battles with alcoholism. The son and father drank root beer and iced water, respectively. Stacy finished her cup of expensive wine that she watched the boss pour. Samuel drank a costly beer, brewed and imported from Ireland.

“Is everyone finished eating?” the boss asked, having not taken a sip of his white mug the entire dinner. He pulled his chair out from under the table, reaching into his pants pocket. “Good.”

“Headed somewhere so soon, boss?” Elizabeth asked, taking a final sip from her bourbon, clearing the glass.

The boss cackled and pulled out something black from the pocket of his slacks. “Here!” he yelled, placing a ticking timer on the table. It was counting down from thirty at a moderately quick pace. “I’m sure you all know, but our work has been disgraceful as of late. There has been no quality teamwork, no trust in one another. Nobody thinks outside the box anymore. None of you look out for one another, you all are in it for yourselves.”

“That’s not true at all sir,” Samuel said. “We all just want what’s best for each other. You know that.”

“I always say that I want you all to be willing to take a bullet for one another. Our line of work demands it.”

“…Sir, what are you…” Stacy started, the timer continuing to count down from thirty in a bright red font.

“I slipped a rare poison in one of the drinks,” the boss said. “It’s a silent killer. It works fast, and without leaving a mark. In less than thirty minutes, one person at this table will drop dead. Unless…they swallow the antidote.”

“Where’s the antidote? Give it here!” Frank said, having drank the same beer that Samuel enjoyed.

“Frank! You don’t know that it’s you! It…it can’t be…no! I can’t lose you!” Ellen shouted.

The boss reached into his pocket once more, pulling out a plastic sandwich bag with a single white pill inside. “This is the antidote. There’s enough for one person to be cured. I will be nearby when you figure out who drank the poison.”

He dropped the bagged pill onto the table before walking out of the kitchen.

The seven of them all took a long pause, looking anxiously around the table. “So…who knows anything about poison?” Samuel asked.

“This is probably just a joke,” Ted said. “I mean come on, boss isn’t gonna poison one of us. The man is bluffing.”

“When has the boss ever lied to any of us?” Stacy asked. “He’s the most honest guy I’ve ever known, really.”

“That’s a good point,” Samuel said. “So once again…none of you were poison experts? What about you, Lizzy? Didn’t you used to be a cop?”

“Yes, a beat cop. Not a poison cop,” Elizabeth rebutted.

“Well, Stacy can’t be poisoned, can she? We saw the boss pouring the drink!” Ellen pointed out.

“That’s a good point…except he could have slipped the poison into the bottle and then poured it,” Ted remarked.

“Baseless conjecture is going to get us absolutely nowhere,” Stacy said, now tapping buttons on her phone. “Hand me the pill.”

“Why? Are you going to eat it and leave one of us to die?” Frank asked.

“Just hand me the pill!” Stacy shouted.

Billy sighed and grabbed the plastic bag, handing it over to Stacy. “Thank you,” she said, opening the bag and placing the pill on the table.

“What are you doing with that?” Frank asked.

Stacy sighed. “I have an app on my phone. You can scan a pill and it will analyze it, compare it to a catalog of hundreds of thousands. It will tell us what it is, and that will at least give us a lead.”

“Heh. You know what they say about technology these days, huh?” Samuel remarked.

“Shh!” The group stayed in silence as Stacy snapped a picture of the pill. “It’s uploading…”

“What does it say?” Ted asked.

Stacy carefully analyzed the text on her smartphone screen, carefully but quickly taking in the information her app awarded her. “…The pill is called Xynophen Antidote. Worth over two million dollars and only found in the world’s most prestigious medical labs, the pill is the world’s only known cure for the rare and deadly poison known as Xynophen.”

“So the poison is called Xynophen,” Elizabeth said. “That’s a good start.”

“How did the boss get his hands on a two-millon-dollar pill?” Samuel asked, perplexed at the entire situation.

“Two million! Forget the poison! We should let one of us die, and the rest of us sell it!” Frank exclaimed.

“Frank!” Ellen yelled. “We…we can’t do that!”

“I’m not sure how much of a market there will be for a rare antidote that was probably stolen to begin with,” Stacy said. “Let’s just work on finding a cure. I’ll look up information on Xynophen.”

Samuel looked around the table before his eyes gazed upon the pill, as everyone else sat in silence, waiting for Stacy to come up with more information. “You know…I was just BSing before with the whole teamwork thing but…man, I don’t want any of you to die.” He looked over to Billy, who had taken back his seat after handing Stacy the pill. “Not even you, Billy, not even you. Like, I am really sorry about saying you were only seven. It’s just…you annoy me sometimes and I’m not even sure why you’re here-”

“It says here that the only way for Xynophen to work is for it to dissolve in alcohol,” Stacy interrupted. “Otherwise…it’s just a hard pill and swallowing it in pill form doesn’t do anything. It dissolves in alcohol, but nothing else.”

“Alright, so did anyone here not drink alcohol?” Elizabeth asked.

“I didn’t…I guess that means I’m…I’m fine,” Ted said. “And…Billy…”

“I…I…”

“Alright, so I take back what I said. You still haven’t hit puberty, Billy,” Samuel interrupted. “Billy and Ted are clear. So there’s me, Stacy, Frank and Ellen and Elizabeth.”

“Unless the boss poisoned himself,” Ted said.

“Don’t be stupid,” Stacy rebutted. “The man is a multi-billionaire and one of the chairmen of the Never Say Suicide Foundation. Plus, he hardly trust us at all. I doubt he’s going to leave his life up to us handing him the antidote.”

“Yeah, and I never even saw him take a drink out of that mug,” Samuel pointed out. “That leaves us five. What else have you found out about the poison, Stacy?”

“Actually, yes, I did. The poison seemingly has no effect on women older than sixty-five.”

“That means…that means I’m safe!” Ellen yelled.

“But what about me? What about men over sixty-five?” Frank complained, rising from the table. “You know what? Give me that pill!”

“Frank! Sit down!” Ellen shouted, pulling her husband by the arm and back into his seat.

He clutched the side of his back in pain. “You broke my rib! I’m gonna need two million dollars worth of pill to pay for the surgery!”

“So who does that leave?” Ted asked. “Just…Sam, Stacy, Elizabeth and Frank, right? Anything else?”

“There’s one more thing, but it’s sort of stupid,” Stacy said before putting her phone back into her pocket.

“What? What is it? We’ve got twenty minutes left, nothing is stupid. Spit it out, Stacy,” Samuel demanded.

Stacy giggled. “Well…it says here that Xynophen also doesn’t affect…pregnant women.” She snickered again.

“What’s so funny about that?” Samuel asked, looking across the table at Elizabeth. “Lizzy? You expecting a child you won’t tell us about?”

“I wish, if it meant I’m not dying in nineteen minutes,” she said.

“Alright, this is ridiculous,” Frank said, clutching his back and slowly rising from the table. “Why don’t we stop this garbage and just decide who deserves the pill the most, huh?”

“I think we should just keep our process of elimination going,” Ted said. “We only have what…four or five people left, right?”

“Yeah, just Samuel, Frank and Elizabeth,” Stacy blurted out.

“Yeah…wait, what? What about you?” Samuel asked as her face began to turn bright pink

“That…that wasn’t supposed to come out,” Stacy replied. “Well…uh, you remember when I said that pregnant women aren’t affected by the poison?”

“You’re…you’re not seriously saying…!” Before Samuel could come up with more words, Stacy marched out of the kitchen. “Stacy! Stacy!” he shouted, chasing after her.

“Well, if her royal highness is expecting, that leaves just me, him and you, Frank,” Elizabeth said. “Shall we have a little fight over the pill?”

The old man turned and started towards the pill. “Frank! No!” Ellen yelled, grabbing her husband.

Ted and Billy grabbed Elizabeth, who kicked and pulled, trying for the pill. With an elbow to Ted’s nose, she broke their grip and jolted for the pill, successfully grabbing it and popping it in her mouth. “You’re gonna kill us all!” Frank shouted.

“It needs water to wash it down,” Elizabeth said as she hurried to the counter, nearly knocking the empty beer bottle that Samuel’s drink came out of. “Wait a minute!”

“What is it?” Ted asked, holding his face in pain.

“Heh…ho. Looks like we found our answer,” she said, beginning to pour a glass of water into an empty mug.

“Our…answer?” Ted asked.

Elizabeth nodded and swallowed the antidote. “This beer…it isn’t beer at all. Come and read the bottom of the label.”

She handed the empty bottle to Frank, who handed it off to Billy. “You read it! I need my glasses…”

Billy carefully examined the bottom of the bottle label, where the fine text said “Non-alcoholic beverage.”

“Well…Sammy and I had the same drink!” Frank exclaimed. “The same beer…”

“So, if it’s not alcoholic,” Ellen said.

“We’re both…we’re both safe! Oh, oh, Ellen! We’re safe!” Frank cheered.

“So…that leaves just me,” Elizabeth said. “Guess I was right swallowing the antidote, huh? I might have overreacted, but in the end, it was the right move. Let’s go tell the boss.”

“There’s something you guys should know,” Billy suddenly said as everyone readied to leave the kitchen. “Miss Elizabeth? You remember during the dinner when you had to go to the restroom?”

Elizabeth nodded. “Yes, my child, I do remember that. And your point being?”

“Well…while you were gone and nobody was paying attention…I took a sip of your drink.”

“You…you what!?” Ted’s heart was set on fire at his son’s words. “We need to get you to the hospital! There’s only fifteen minutes left before…before…!”

“I’m really scared dad! I don’t wanna die!”

“It should be fine, it should be fine,” Frank said. “We’ll just go and tell the boss befo-”

“You guys have to come, quick! The boss is dead!” Samuel yelled.

The group of dinner-goers stared blankly at each other, before they all scrambled into the living room. There he lay, slouched over on the couch, deader than dirt.

“That doesn’t make sense! He said he poisoned one of us!” Frank yelled.

“No he didn’t,” Stacy reminded him. “All he said was…in less than thirty minutes, one person at this table will drop dead. He never excluded himself.”

“But the timers not even out yet! That wasn’t thirty minutes!” Ted complained.

Stacy shook her head. “Remember what he said. In less than thirty minutes, one person at this table will drop dead. He didn’t say exactly thirty…he didn’t say anything about the timer at all. He said we had less than thirty minutes, and we did.”

“But what about all that stuff about the suicide club or whatever it was?” Elizabeth asked. “I thought you said he’d never do this?”

“And I thought I never wanted children,” Stacy rebutted. “I guess however you look at it, he was right all along.”