Death Row Apocalypse (7 page)

The major advantage is that the cocktail is 100 percent homegrown and removes US reliance on foreign suppliers completely. One news channel in particular did not take this lying down. By all accounts they were apparently enraged and objected to the humane methods that this new combination drug promised, stating that it is “un-American to go soft on crime.”

Somehow Eddie managed to win the coin toss and was scheduled for a 5:30 p.m. execution, while Blaine had been scheduled for 6:00 p.m. Not only was he to be the first unlucky fucker to be executed with the new drugs, he was also going to star in his own live TV show, though ever so briefly.

The warden went to lengths to explain the plan to Eddie in the hope that he would be somewhat cooperative. At 10:00 a.m. on the day of the execution, the press would arrive and be given a full tour of Hotel Hell. Following this they would have lunch, then enjoy a fake presentation of the execution process given by the guards while dressed up as inmates. Before they arrived, though, the residents on the Row would be handcuffed to their beds, just to make sure they didn’t fling shit at them—or throw something perhaps even worse. When Eddie heard this last nugget of information, he couldn’t help but react out loud. “Ha! Now why would we do that, huh? Never even crossed my fucking mind!” Indeed, it hadn’t crossed his mind until that moment.

As far as Eddie’s personal schedule for the day was concerned, nothing would change. He’d have his last meal, then shower, and perhaps be given a little personal time to reflect on his life before being taken away to croak.

When eventually the press were all set up with their cameras, cables, and microphones, Eddie would be escorted into the execution room, strapped to the gurney, hooked up to an intravenous feed, then be given the option to make a final statement. All that being done, it’s guaranteed that the drugs will give him the ride of a lifetime before sending him to sleep—and that will be that! The whole process will be broadcast live for a TV documentary showing the modern and humane death penalty of the twenty-first century.

Eddie’s reaction to hearing the day’s itinerary from the warden was to interrupt by blurting out his innermost thoughts. “If you ask me, it all sounds like bullshit. I never did trust any of you bastards and never will, and I don’t plan on making it easy for you either. Fucking retards, all of you. I’m gonna give you a show that’ll make you piss yourself. Ha, ha, ha.”

Later in his cell, Eddie sat on the edge of his bunk. With his shoulders bent forward and with his head cradled in both hands, he began to face his inevitable demise.

“Fuck, this is too real. I can’t believe this is happening. There’s a damn good reason why a man has no idea when he’s gonna croak! Shit! It’s almost too much to take! I can’t fucking take this,” Eddie mumbled to himself.

Eddie had his last meal. He elected to have a T-bone steak, rare, and roasted potatoes with a side of salad. It was little more than about an hour later that his belly began to turn to jelly. Shortly after the overwhelming urge to take a dump hit him so quickly that he only narrowly escaped having an embarrassing accident. After passing what felt like rocks, Eddie stood, turned, and wiped himself as he inspected the contents of his toilet. Not believing his eyes, he bent closer still.

“I don’t fucking believe it!” he exclaimed as he recognized most of the undigested articles within his excrement as coming from his all-too-recent last meal. “And where the fuck did the sweetcorn come from?”

Eddie, true to his innermost twisted nature, saved some of his creation. It was with both true intent as well as aim that when the visitors passed his cell, with his free hand he flung his shit not only once but two times. The first projectile struck a grossly overweight guard and the second struck a very surprised cameraman.

Later, unbeknownst to Eddie, the number of heartbeats yet to beat within his chest dropped to less than ten thousand, and he lay on his bunk and lost himself in thought.
I ain’t scared. I’m gonna face this thing head-on, and if I get the chance I’m gonna moon those fuckers right on TV—just they wait an’ see! Hell, they’re probably still recovering from the crazy shit I pulled when they walked past my cell. Wonder if they stink of steak and potatoes with shit on the side.

“Ha!” Eddie laughed out loud.

I got them good, even that fat-fuck guard who sits outside my cell. He ain’t never gonna forget me or my shit!
Eddie thought to himself as he locked eyes with a very angry overweight guard.

Four large guards with riot shields and helmets rushed Eddie’s cell. The door slammed open, completely surprising Eddie as he lay on his bunk, busy with his right pinkie halfway up his right nostril, trying like hell to get that hard bit of mucus with the tip of his finger. He’d almost got to it when the guards interrupted him.

The guards pulled Eddie from his cell and dragged him backwards down the corridor. He wondered briefly if flinging shit at the press earlier was going to be repaid with a little prison “reeducation.” That sort of thing was no stranger to these walls. Eddie was wrong, though, and he realized this as he soon found himself stripped and literally thrown into the showers. Slipping and sliding a little, he managed to keep his balance and then stood upright. One of the guards, who was young and grossly overweight, shouted over the noise of the showers, “Get on with it. We ain’t got all day, and you’ve got an appointment with your maker!” The guard was pretty pleased with his last statement. Somewhere in his small mind this registered as smart and witty. This answered Eddie’s question as to why he’d been pulled from his cell.
Fuck! It’s almost time
, he thought.

Eddie turned toward the hot spray and soaked himself before reaching for the soap.
Yes, real soap and, praise Jesus, shampoo too
, he thought.

The shower was over—a little too early as far as Eddie was concerned, but he was feeling totally clean for what seemed the first time in ages. He had really missed being clean. After drying off, he was given a brand-new set of prison clothing.
Damn, I’m gonna look damn good for the cameras
, was the single thought that crossed his mind as he got dressed. And he did. The clothing was indeed new and had been expertly pressed, with razor-sharp creases. This certainly would give the documentary makers a Photoshop-like finish to their show, but without the actual need to do any Photoshopping whatsoever.

“It’s time,” one of the guards said.

Eddie turned around, looking for the guard that had made the statement. Unable to determine the source, he turned back. A moment later he was rewarded with a shove and soon found himself being persuaded in the direction he should walk. It wasn’t long before they reached his cell, but instead of pushing him back inside, they pushed him on toward the end of the corridor.

At the far end of the corridor, the execution chamber loomed menacingly. Along with the waiting press there were also members of his victims’ family. They were all waiting for him now. It was only about five yards from Eddie’s cell to the execution chamber. It was not that far at all, but with each step he took, his body tried to refuse the instructions coming from his brain to walk the short distance. Somewhere along that long path, the two guards either side of him took hold of his upper arms and helped Eddie forwards to the last room he would ever enter alive. Eddie’s legs turned to jelly and he started to collapse. His hands were shaking and his eyes were moist, and he now tried to resist going any further. The guards were used to these reactions and were quick to take Eddie’s weight as he lost the use of his legs completely.

The guards picked him up and carried him into the execution chamber. All the while Eddie remained silent. He wanted to say something, anything, but couldn’t. It was all so surreal. He really couldn’t accept that he was there, was going to die, was never going to see or do, or, or . . . anything ever again.

The guards continued with their well-practiced tasks, lifting Eddie high and placing him on the gurney. They then strapped him down. In the viewing gallery several journalists were sat in the front row, scribbling notes down on notepads. One was a little more up-to-date than the others. He had what appeared to be a tablet and stylus. Behind them in the second row, three cameramen were setting up their cameras and tripods. These were large, professional-looking cameras, not the sort that your buddy might use at your wedding, but something you would see on the news when the cameraman gets into the shot somehow. To their side was a pair of pensioners, obviously friends or perhaps relatives of Eddie’s victims. All except the pensioners were totally preoccupied with their own preparations. None apart from the old couple had paid the slightest attention to Eddie’s preparations in the execution chamber. Had the warden witnessed this, he would have been really annoyed. He had his guards practicing this routine for over a week and had even paid out overtime to them to ensure their cooperation. His other little investment was the Med-Tech. He had wanted a show, and a show was exactly what he would get.

The warden had many friends, most of them near the top of their profession, and so he contacted one who worked at a nearby medical school on the outskirts of Tallahassee, not so far from the famous prison. In exchange for some first-class ballgame tickets, he explained to his associate friend that he needed a student with certain outstanding female attributes. The deal was done, and he was soon able to access the school’s student profiles via their computer system. In one night he managed to sift through literally hundreds of med school student applications as he hunted for the perfect type, and something special for Eddie. He knew of Eddie’s little fantasies and how they would manifest themselves. Eddie’s execution would be a dramatic production in its own right!

It was through the Medical Assistant Certification program that he found Sandra Beach, his ideal candidate. She was both good looking and shapely. The bonus was the appealing quality most lecherous men adore. She needed money and would consider doing almost anything—well, within reason that is—for the good old dollar bill.

Sandra entered the execution chamber. She was in her midtwenties and very nice to look at. She had the girl-next-door combined with sleazy-hooker look that most guys would be very happy to settle down with. Her hair was tied back in a short ponytail and was light brown, almost blond in color. She was about five foot four inches, and she curved in and out in the right places. Her nails were painted and well manicured, but a little on the long side for the medical profession. To put the proverbial icing on the cake, she had eyes that back in the eighties would have been called “spanner eyes,” because when she looked at you your nuts would very literally tighten.

Eddie was now starting to panic. He was sweating profusely, and his fear had managed to unlock his vocal cords. He was about to start yelling and screaming when he noticed Sandra entering the room. His panic and fear of the situation were
With
d immediately by a hypnotic fascination of the woman now walking directly toward him. As she approached the gurney to begin her work of setting up the heart monitor sensors, she lent this way and that, accentuating her female curves, just the way he liked. Something deep within Eddie woke. His hands steadied, and he relaxed. Even his breathing became normal as his eyes locked onto her seductress’s body. Her scent permeated deep into his core. She flooded his mind and his every sense. He wanted her now—and so, so badly.

Sandra busied herself with preparing the needles. Eddie didn’t even notice the sharp prick as the long steel point invaded his left arm and then his right. As she taped down the needle in his right arm, she ever so slightly lent forward, just enough so that her ample breasts fell just a little forward, filling her tunic, revealing her smooth curves and inviting cleavage. The room was a little on the cool side, enough so that her nipples had become hard and their outline was now clearly visible to Eddie, a treat that had not escaped his attention. As she held his wrist, she took a quick look around to see if anyone was paying attention to what she was doing. As it happens, the only one who paid any attention to her was Eddie, so, still holding his wrist, she feigned taking his pulse while holding a small nurse’s watch in her right hand. She then let the timepiece dangle from her neck, and with her now-free hand she deftly ran her fingers up the inside of his thigh, eventually reaching his crotch, where she brushed her fingertips over his growing bulge. She raised her eyes and met his gaze, then winked and smiled. Eddie felt his nuts tighten involuntary.

With a start, one of the guards shook the gurney, bringing Eddie back to his senses just a little, and said, “Eddie Drew, do you have anything you wish to say before the state of Florida carries out the sentence?”

But Eddie had returned to that place in his mind where he was only concerned with his own desires and was lost to a fantasy that only he was privy to. He reacted then with what could only be described as an insanely ridiculous request.

“Yeah, bring me my fucking cape and some hot chocolate.” Eddie licked his lips and returned the wink to the Med-Tech.

The reporters looked at each other and talked amongst themselves, asking for clarification of what Eddie had just said, assuming that they must have misheard him.

The guard ignored Eddie’s request and nodded to the executioner’s chamber. This was the prearranged signal to the executioner to begin the series of fatal injections. Eddie was completely oblivious to the evolving events. He had not stopped eyeing the Med-Tech’s every move. He had now fully undressed her all the way down to her skimpy lingerie and was in the process of slipping his hand down the front of her nickers, as his growing bulge became most pronounced. He began encouraging her over and inviting her to experience a “chocolate dip.”