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Oscar (9 page)

BOOK: Oscar
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She bowed her head before looking up again; she stared directly at John, her eyes telling him not to do anything rash, anything that would give him away. He knew what she was trying to tell him, and Oscar just stared towards the stage in terror. He looked at Miriam in her helpless state and then turned to John, staring up at him forlornly.

‘There’s nothing I can do for her, Oscar.’ he said softly, looking to see if anybody had heard him. ‘She doesn’t want us to interfere.’

Oscar stared blankly at him, not comprehending what had been said to him. He simplified it for him: ‘she doesn’t want us to help her.’

#

‘You are stood here today, charged with high treason against the government—and sentenced to death by hanging, drawing and quartering. Do have anything to say before the sentence is carried out?’ the judge and executioner asked. She burnt holes into him.
What a stupid question to ask—how the hell can I say anything with this thing on my face?
She growled at him as a reply. He was fully aware that she was unable to voice her opinion, and he chuckled to himself.

‘Prepare her.’ he ordered, as he went to stand by the pulley for the first phase.

Her wrist and ankle restraints were removed by one of the guards, and her arms were pinned tightly to her sides by a leather strap, putting pressure on her cracked rib. She was walked over to the two lengths of rope. She looked up at the noose; all fear and pain had drained from her body. She had resigned herself to her death, and felt nothing but relief.

She was shunted round to face the crowd again and a new found bravery for her situation washed over her. A defiant look played in her eyes, emulating into the sea of people in front of her. The noose was placed around her neck, and the leather face mask removed again by the executioner as a guard tied her feet with the other length of rope. She turned to face her executioner.

‘You asked if I had something to say before I die.’ She cried. ‘Long live The Independent Mind! Down with the government!’ she shouted into the crowd, which they acknowledged with a mighty roar. The executioner begun to turn the pulley, lifting her clean off the ground. The noose tightened around her throat, her body stretching, slowly killing her—so close to death she was released to the ground, barely conscious but still alive for the next phase. The first phase lasted a full five minutes as the crowd booed and chanted at the executioner and the guards who had brought her to face death.

She was carried over to the table by two guards, the leather strap removed from around her arms. Her hands and ankles were placed roughly in the restraints in each corner. Her body was limp, drained of all energy. Her orange boiler suit was ripped open to bare her midriff, flashing her stomach. The executioner stood over her and cut deep into her flesh, starting from the bottom of her rib cage and going to the bottom of her sternum. She screamed her last scream, blood spewing from her mouth like an exploding volcano as she was disembowelled. Her organs were held up for the entire crowd to see. She had passed her last breath with a final exhale, and her head fell to the side with her eyes wide open. She was dead!

The executioner tossed the innards into the jeering crowd, showering them in the blood and guts of a heroine, a martyr. The final phase of the process was to cut off Miriam’s head, to be used as a reminder of what happened if you defied or threatened the government in any way. The executioner pulled a chainsaw from behind the stage. He started pulling on its cord, waiting for it to buzz to life. In one jagged movement, her head was sawn off and held up for all to gaze upon, before being taken to the centre of Hyde Park by one of the idle guards. It would be placed on a pike there, for all to see. Her body was cut into four, to be placed in four separate locations where rebellion was rife.

The crowd was forced to disperse after a while. Oscar was white as a ghost, and he felt sick with what he had just witnessed. It was a horrifying incident for him to have to watch, especially at his young age, and especially happening to someone of whom he had grown fond. John hung his head ashamedly, wishing that he could have done something to prevent this tragedy. But there wasn’t; she had made a great sacrifice for the cause, as had the other executed members of The Independent Mind.

But what would become of Oscar? Would John take him in or would he become the states problem—who knows?

BOOK: Oscar
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