That would have been a picture that I'm sure Mr. Campbell would have liked to see. Maybe he'd even write a story about lack of decorum at executions and mention that the competitions reporters didn't have any manners. Besides, how can anyone think of eating? A man is going to be put to death less than ten feet away and yet he's stuffing his face like as if we were waiting for a movie to start.
The warden nodded at the two guards stationed at each of the exit doors, and waited until they'd confirmed they were securely locked before stepping in front of the observation window and clearing his throat. “Good evening. I am Michael Massengail, the warden here at Bayonne Prison. I thank you all for your patience regarding the delay, but we are now ready to begin.
In accordance with Louisiana Penal Code 431-Subsection C, tonight we shall be executing one Mr. Maurice Grenauld, having been convicted of Murder in the First Degree.”
On the far side of the curtain covered glass window, Captain LaShod turned the volume down on the intercom speaker so it wasn't quite so loud. He looked at the white sheet covering the examination table with its collection of leather straps and checked each restraints to make certain they were all in good working order.
“Captain, are you sure this is alright? I really don't want to get in any trouble,” a young guard wearing a white doctor's lab coat asked nervously while looking at the stethoscope hanging from his neck in confusion.
“Gunderson, you're a good guard and I know you'll do fine. If we could have gotten a doctor to come out here for the execution you know we would have, but hospitals are pretty busy places right now and Dr. Hagan can't leave the infirmary. He's working there all by himself since none of the support staff has been coming in to work. All you have to do is pretend to be a doctor. Try to look serious and smart, and spit out that bubble gum before we start.
When we bring in Grenauld you just stand aside until we have him strapped down and in position. Then take a cotton ball and rub it on his arm opposite his elbow then stick the needle in, preferably in a vein.”
“Aren't I supposed to use alcohol on the cotton ball, or something? You know, to prevent infections and stuff like that.”
Captain LaShod shook his head in disbelief and almost explained the futility and silliness of worrying about giving a man who was about to die an infection, but only said, “Don’t worry. If he gets sick after the execution I'll take the blame.”
He showed Gunderson his own arm and pointed at one of the veins. “Just wipe the cotton ball over one of his veins and stick the needle in. I'll handle the rest. Except for the very end, when he's dead you just use the stethoscope to check for a heartbeat. Got it?”
The imposter physician nodded and went over to the sink to scrub up.
Correctional officers Marvin Mathis and Hector Alonzo were both very alert as they escorted Maurice 'The Mountain' Grenauld toward the execution chamber.
Standing a few inches taller than both guards, Grenauld was a heavily bearded and muscled man with a smooth shaved head that reflected the overhead lights in the hallway. He was very securely shackled around the ankles and wrists and seemed resigned to his eminent death, but neither guard was lulled into any false sense of safety.
As Hector guided the big man down the hallway, Mathis had his finger hovering over the electroshock remote that activated the belt secured around the condemned man's waist. Hector was wearing a thick insulated rubber glove just in case his partner needed to send a jolt of electricity into Grenauld. But he was still worried about whether the glove actually would work as an insulator. The shock was designed to incapacitate but Hector wasn't sure what he feared more, having the giant condemned murderer go berserk or accidentally being shocked.
The door to the execution chamber was standing open and Captain LaShod watched silently as Maurice was escorted into the room. The big man looked at the bright white tiled walls and saw the captain was closely watching his every move.
He grinned hugely at LaShod saying, “Evening, Captain.”
LaShod nodded slightly as the guards pushed the big man back against the examination table and began to strap him down tightly. It was a multiple position table capable of being vertical or horizontal and could easily be pivoted by operating a hydraulic lever.
As he was strapped against the table in a vertical position, Maurice looked over at the captain while listening to the warden's voice coming through the intercom. “Don't suppose you could change the radio to some hip hop or rap? Talk radio bores me to death.”
LaShod smirked but only watched as the straps were cinched down tight over his chest, and ankles. One of the guards unshackled the chains and pulled them off. Then the belts around his wrists and waist were also cinched down even more securely.
“Ever see that movie, Frankenstein, where they had the big guy strapped down? Feels sort of like I'm Frankenstein. I don’t suppose you would be a sweetheart and loosen the straps a little?”
The captain smiled at that and said, “As soon as your heart stops beating I'll have the straps removed and that's a promise. And by the way, Frankenstein was the doctor's name. The monster never had one.”
“Wow, learn something new every day. When's the curtain going to open? My adoring fans are probably eager to see me.”
LaShod attached the EKG electrodes to the big man's heavily muscular and tattooed bare chest saying, “Soon; very soon.”
“Wish you guys still had electric chairs. Needles make me queasy. That's one of the reasons I never did drugs, like that,” Maurice said then looked over at the 'doctor' and asked, “Hey, doc, this stuff you're going to give me isn't addictive is it?”
The 'doctor' shrugged and looked in confusion at the small hose attached to a needle that ran from a bottle of medicine connected to a pump that would cause the condemned man's heart to slow then stop.
Maurice gave the captain a worried look. “He knows what he's doing, doesn't he?”
“Don't worry, I promise you won't be leaving this room alive.”
“Well, that's certainly comforting,” Maurice said with a mocking happy tone in his voice.
“You got it?” Bobby asked the old man sitting in front of the head librarian's computer.
“Yeah, but what if uh, I don't know... What if I do what you showed me and it doesn't work? What if the cell doors all stay locked and shut?” Carl asked.
“Then we're all going to die tomorrow. By the way, I'm taking the bookmobile as soon as everything gets going. Hope you don't mind.”
“It doesn't go very fast, but you're welcome to it. Where do you think you’ll go?”
“First, far away from here; then somewhere that I can access my money and go... hmm, I don't know. I guess somewhere safe, perhaps South America or somewhere like that. I speak Spanish fairly well.” The young man said and clicked on the closed circuit camera computer. A few seconds later he managed to route the feed from the execution building onto the screen. He looked at the clock and wondered why they hadn't started yet.
Carl looked at the video feed and said, “I'm confused about something. If you really do have millions of dollars somewhere, why didn’t you just leave the country when you were out on bail before your trial?”
“I guess because I'm stupid. I believed my lawyer. She told me I'd probably just get a fine and probation. Who would have thought I'd actually get prison time for cable theft?”
Carl turned up the audio and caught the last bit of the reverend's prayer.
Bobby held his hand out to shake and said, “Carl, you're a good guy. Sure you don't want to tag along with me?”
He shook the young man's hand saying, “Positive. But, I got one last bit of advice. You should wait until the other prisoners rush the gate. You go out there first and you're more than likely going to get shot.”
“No worries. I'm no hero. Thanks for everything, Carl. You sure you got all the pass codes for the servers?”
The old man tapped a pad of paper filled with notations and said, “I got them. You just try
and be a good boy from now on, okay?”
Bobby laughed as he hurried out and across the library, yelling back, “I'm always good, it's just that just sometimes I'm also dumb.”
After he was all alone, Carl saw the 'doctor' on the screen looked a lot like one of the more recently hired guards and chuckled as he shook his head.
The warden’s voice came over the feed. “Mr. Maurice Grenauld, do you have any final words?”
Carl sighed, thinking, Dumb, dumb, dumb. It's amazing how stupid supposedly intelligent people can be. What do they expect him to say? Maybe a tearful choked up sincere heartfelt apology? What a bunch of idiots.
Maurice looked through the glass window, saw the family members of the little girl he savagely raped and killed, and cleared his throat while looking from one hate filled face to the next. The girl's mother was staring at him as if she never wanted to forget what was about to happen. The thick leather straps holding him tightly against the slightly tilting table made it hard for him to take a deep breath and when he spoke it was just barely above a whisper. “Can you hear me?”
The warden pressed the intercom button in the viewing room and said, “Go ahead, we can hear you fine.”
“She was a beautiful child, ma'am,” Maurice said, looking directly at the girl's mother. “I won't tell you everything that I did to her or all the things that very willing girl did for me.”
He saw the captain give him a warning glance before continuing. “That night in my cabin when we was done having fun, before I snapped her neck like an old chicken bone, she told me something you might like to know.”
The warden had his hand on the intercom's mute button just in case he started swearing and threatening, but so far 'The Mountain' seemed content to just talk crudely yet still within the boundaries he'd set. He looked at his wristwatch.
“She didn't cry much during or afterward. Just kept staring up at me with those bright blue eyes and told me about how I didn't hurt her too much. She told me all about when she was nine years old how all her uncle’s did far worse things to her.”
The warden shut off the intercom at that point as the viewing room erupted in shouting, yells, and threats. He nodded at LaShod and the captain yanked the lever controlling the table's hydraulics.
“Hey, I wasn't even done yet!” Maurice said in a nasty chuckling shout before adding, “Didn't even get to tell her momma about how them uncles of hers brought in a big horny pit bull.” Tears of laughter rolled down the big man's face as he gave the girl's mom a wink before he was tilted completely out of her field of vision.
“You can tell Satan all about your disgusting perverted lies,” LaShod said, as he locked the handle for the table in place.
“Lies? Who, me? Did you see the old fucker's face? You know, the one that was sitting in the wheelchair? I think it was a look of guilt.”
“Doctor, he's ready for you,” the captain said.
The 'doctor' tied a long thin piece of rubber tightly around Grenauld's muscular upper arm. He saw the tattoo of the words FUCK YOU on the big man's bicep and reached toward a nearby tray.
“That's a little too tight, doc.”
The 'doctor' ignored the criticism of his medical technique and quickly swiped a cotton ball over the inside of the big man's arm opposite the elbow and saw a big vein just under the skin appear as if by magic. It looked as big around as an earth worm.
He uncapped the needle tip at the end of the hose and looked over at the captain, who just nodded impatiently.
Biting his lip, Gunderson slid the needle through the skin and into the vein easily.
There was very little blood around the entry point and LaShod handed the 'doctor' a strip of surgical tape to secure the needle in place. After two more strips were added, the needle was snugly imbedded.
The captain then nodded at the warden through the glass.
Things had calmed down somewhat in the viewing room.
Massengail looked at the righteous fury filled face of the woman who lost her little girl to the monster in the room beyond. The warden held back from pushing the green button that was mounted near the intercom which would administer the drug. He looked at the little girl's mother and nodded slightly to himself and said, “Ma'am? If I push this button that sorry excuse for a man will be dead in less than a minute. And though it's not strictly allowed by my superiors, if you wish to press it you may do so.”
The woman looked at the last photograph ever taken of her baby Britney and nodded. Clutching the photo, she stood up shakily and walked over beside the warden. “I hope it burns like Hell fire and hurts like a mother fucker,” she said, savagely pushing the green button repeatedly.
Maurice was humming happily and his feet were wiggling in spite of the restraints around his ankles as the 'doctor' removed the tourniquet. A green light on the drug container pump began flashing and LaShod watched the drug that looked like water flowing down the clear tube, through the needle, and into Maurice's arm.
“You know what's funny?” Grenauld asked, no longer humming, just staring up at the ceiling. “If I had my whole life to do over I wouldn't change a fucking thing.”
The captain didn't doubt that as he watched the second hand on the wall clock slowly moving.
The 'doctor' walked over and asked LaShod, “How long does this usually take?”
“I set the machine to give him four times the regular amount. Most guys last about ninety seconds,” he whispered back while watching the EKG machine's display screen beginning to move erratically.
“I'm going to get paid a little extra for this, right?” The 'doctor' asked.
LaShod didn't answer.
“She was a little whore. Any girl that wears tight little pink shorts with the word JUICY on the ass is just... uh just begging for it.” Grenauld's eyes began blinking and his breathing became labored and unsteady. “Not my fault... her momma lets... the little slut dress... uh oh man... like a fucking whore.”
“Almost,” the captain whispered. “Almost there.”
The EKG screen image jiggled wildly and a rapidly beeping alarm on the machine began to sound. A few seconds later the beeping changed to a soft monotonous tone.
The captain nodded at the warden through the glass and muted the tone while muttering, “Good fucking riddance.”
The 'doctor' wheeled a gurney over to haul out the corpse as two guards began removing the restraints.
LaShod shut off the drug pump, ripped off the surgical tape and yanked out the needle. “You fellas get this sack of shit down to the storage room and stick him in the freezer, if he'll fit. The county will be sending someone for him in the morning,” the captain said before walking out through the pair of swinging doors.
A few seconds after the captain left, the 'doctor' said, “Hey, wait a second,” as the other guards started moving the body toward the gurney. “I'm supposed to check him for a heartbeat.”
“Be my guest. The dead fucker's got to weigh close to five hundred pounds,” one of the guards said and started over to the viewing window to pull the curtains shut.
The 'doctor' forgot about the stethoscope hanging around his neck and laid his ear against the dead man's enormous chest. There was no sound. It was as silent as the grave.
But as he started to lift his head back Grenauld proved he still had some life in him, or that was the 'doctor's first terrified thought.
Grenauld grabbed the 'doctor', yanked him closer, and tore into his neck with his sharp teeth.
Blood flowed over Grenauld's chest as the 'doctor' issued a gurgling yelping noise and pulled back, leaving most of his neck's skin clamped securely in the undead man's mouth in the process.
Security Officer Hector Alonzo was closing the curtain, but upon hearing the yelp he stopped before shutting it all the way and hurried over to the table.
Marvin Mathis looked for the shock belt control button, only it wasn't on the counter where he thought he'd put it. As Hector yelled for help, he swung his Billy club down ha
rd on the big man's shoulder as the 'doctor' collapsed on the floor and began twitching while a spray of blood squirted across the tiled floor.
From the safety of the librarian's office, Carl could only watch the closed circuit monitor in stunned shock. Hector slammed his Billy club down repeatedly with one hand while reaching for his canister of pepper spray with the other.
Carl was so distracted that for the time being any idea of deactivating the security systems had vanished from his mind.
On the other monitor there was camera angle showing the viewing area. The warden was leading the woman through a doorway and captain LaShod came out as they went inside.
Carl couldn't understand what was happening. What's going on? Why can't anyone hear that guard yelling? Ooh, I bet that glass is soundproof.
The phone on the librarian's desk rang and scared the old man considerably. He jumped up and grabbed the receiver.
“Come on outside, Carl, and bring along your flunky. It's time for bed,” a guard standing outside the library said.
“Listen to me! You need to send someone to the execution building! Grenauld is loose and killing people in there!”
“That shit ain't funny. I don't care if everyone calls you Crazy Carl or not. Now, you two guys come out of there, right now.”
Carl could see the guard standing outside on another monitor and then remembered to activate the security overrides. He frantically clicked on all the cell block buildings and then clicked on an icon that the young man had told him to.
Bobby heard the massive gate's warning klaxons going off and grinned hugely while listening to one of the guard’s walkie-talkies he brought along from the librarian's office. There were dozens of frantic voices all trying to contact security control at the same moment. As the young unlikely multimillionaire stood in the tiny storage room and pressed the outer roll top door button he laughed. When the metal door opened all the way he climbed aboard the bookmobile and waited.
The override command had taken advantage of a computer subroutine that could only be used in the event of a mammoth fire and was supposed to only be accessible by the commandant, LaShod, or the warden.