Tales from the 13th: Countdown

            I’m sitting on my bunk, alone and frightened. They moved me into this isolated cell yesterday, I guess so my roommate wouldn’t cause a scene. I can hear the clock ticking away the minutes I have left to live. It is a cruel punishment, waiting for death to come. I know I committed my crime. I live with that guilt every day. But do I deserve this? Does my life mean so little that they must end it? Tonight!

            Oh, how I wish that I could be running through the grassy fields of my home. Playing with my sister, just as we always did before. But no. I’m stuck here, in this gray-walled cell, listening as the seconds tick by. This is so unfair. I didn’t mean for the gun to go off. Hell, I didn’t even know that my father had one bullet left in the chamber. I just wanted to get a loaf of bread for my starving sister and me. That’s all that this was supposed to be! A quick hit and grab, fill our bellies, and go off to the next town. 

            All older man Jenkins had to do was give over the bread. It was stale anyway. Instead, he had to come around the counter and grab the barrel of the gun, fighting me for it. The first click came from the revolver, and neither of us noticed it. Then the second one came, and finally the devastating third. From what the coroner said, the bullet went right through him, never giving him the chance to survive. He may have been right. All I remember was Jenkins falling to the floor and me running out of the general store. Why did it also have to serve as a post office? As a result, it made the crime a federal offense.

            That’s what you get for living in the Dust Bowl during the Depression—a whole lot of pain, suffering, and hunger. Too many people saw me that day. Running out of Old Man Jenkins. The police were soon upon me, but at least Faith was able to eat before they apprehended me. That’s all that matters. I would sacrifice myself ten times over to make sure that she was fed. But now, what little courage I have left is seeping out of me. I can no longer bear it.     

            Fifteen minutes remain. These are going to be the longest fifteen minutes of my life. It was as if time itself had come to a crawl. My head hung low, bobbing to keep time with the second hand. Tick, tock… Tick, tock… Tick, tock. Why won’t it end? Why does my suffering like this have to happen? It was just an accident! I don’t want to be here anymore. Just take me to the chair now. It isn’t like there is a long line waiting to go next. Why did they have to wait till midnight? 

            I can’t stand the sound anymore, so I stand up and start pacing back and forth, like a caged lion. My breathing starts to escalate as the door to the wing opens. Father McDonald, the prison chaplain, is led right to my cell. He’s here to give me the last rites. He’s there to wait out the final moments with me. They claim it’s to bring me peace. Peace? How the hell am I supposed to be at peace when I’m minutes away from riding the lightning? 

Father McDonald wants to discuss my crime. To discuss it with me again and see if I change my mind. Yes, I repent. Of course, I repent. A thousand times, yes, I do! I wouldn’t be here now if they had taken repentance to heart. I have repentance in abundance, but that matters not to the state. They want my life because of an accident. I wish I could take it all back. Every action that I took, but Faith was hungry. What was I supposed to do? Our bellies hadn’t known what food was for two weeks. That’s no way for a growing girl to live.     

Not talking to the priest and allowing him to recite scripture for at least the next ten minutes gave me something to focus on. Something besides that annoying clock. Tick, tock… Tick, tock… Couldn’t they at least have installed a timepiece that wasn’t so loud? There even came a time when the priest seemed to be keeping pace with it. I wasn’t the first inmate who refused to talk about his crime. Not the first, nor the last.

Finally, the time came, and the guards put shackles on my arms and legs. Father McDonald is reciting the passages of the Bible, specifically for this occasion. They led me down the hallway, slowly. The shackles are so restrained that I can’t even take a half step. Coming into the last room I’ll ever enter. I see where my final resting place will be. I nod as I know that this is going to be it. The guards aren’t as gentle as they could be. Stripped of the restraints, they shove me down into “Old Sparks.”

As they’re strapping me into the chair, I see the witnesses that have gathered to see my demise. Jenkin’s two daughters are there, with their husbands, and they’re anticipating my death. I know they are. They informed me as such when I was allowed to address them at the trial. I couldn’t look at them then, and I’m sure as hell not going to be able to look them in the eye now.  It was an accident! Why doesn’t anybody understand that?

            Five minutes to go, and the guards finally go to the sides of the chair, letting me see those in front of me. Everyone who attended my trial was present. Even the attorney who was supposed to be representing me was sitting in the front row. He was useless. Then I saw who was next to him. It was my little sister, Faith. Why did they bring her there? Wasn’t this enough torment? You sick bastards! It wasn’t good enough for her to lose her brother; she had to watch him die before her very eyes.

I hear the Jenkins sisters cursing at me, as my sister cries. I’m all she has left, and that soon will be over. She’s now a ward of the state. I watch as the electrodes are attached to the spots where they’ll be effective. I can still hear that damned clock ticking away. Looking over at my sister, Faith, I wish things could have been better if our parents hadn’t been wiped out due to cholera. Things would have been different, and we’d still be a family. 

The warden asks if I have any last words. Sure, I do, but none that can get past the lump in my throat. I want to take it all back. Everything. That whole day and the trouble and pain it all caused. Seeing that I couldn’t answer, he started reciting a speech that he had given a thousand times since taking the position. My bottom lip starts to tremble as I fight back the tears. I don’t want the last sight Faith has of my face to be crying.

Gratefully, they cover my head with the hood. My eyes swell with tears. I’ve failed my sister. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest, keeping rhythm in my ears. My whole body is shaking, as I know death is coming soon. Tick, tock…Tick, tock… The clock keeps its demonic rhythm as I wait for the tune to come to an end. Why can’t they pull the switch? Just pull it! Please, end this torment! Put an end to this suffering. I can’t take it any longer. Just pull the lever.  Just pull it right NOW…