The Last Second

Text 1: Sixty-Four Squares, by Arun Leith

An original novel extract.

Twelve seconds. Noah stared at the two red numbers glowing beside the board, bleeding away in silence. His opponent, Ivo, had nineteen. Around them, the tournament hall waited beneath white lights. Nobody coughed. Nobody shifted a chair. Even the photographer had lowered her camera, as though the smallest click might knock over the pieces.

Ivo moved a black piece and struck the clock with one finger. Noah’s time began falling again. Eleven. Ten. Nine. He looked at the crowded board and saw, suddenly, a narrow path through it: three moves, perhaps four, if Ivo answered as he expected. It was no more than a thread through a maze, but it was there. Noah moved. Tap. Ivo moved. Tap. The clocks passed the shrinking seconds between them like a spark.

Five.

Noah sent his last tall piece across the board and struck the clock.

Ivo’s hand hovered, chose, retreated, chose again. The move came, and Noah’s seconds began falling once more.

Four.

Three.

Noah did not look at the clock. He slid one piece forward and pressed his button with less than a second remaining.

For a moment, nothing happened. Ivo searched the board, first quickly, then desperately. His king had nowhere to go. He sat back.

The hall exploded. Chairs scraped, hands struck tables and Noah’s name broke over him in a wave. Only then did he breathe.