Justice

A man goes on two journeys, one to save someone, one to the electric chair.

Jusitice

By Richard Paul

“Wake up Jimmy Boy. You’ve got a big day ahead.”

His eyes opened, slowly at first. Dazed and confused he felt no particular need to rush the waking process. Recollection soon forced through the weariness however, and Jim’s eyes snapped open with shock, all weariness seemed to vanish in an instant. The short-lived comforts of sleep had abandoned him.

He immediately started shaking in terror and repeated to himself a sentence that had long since lost all meaning, This couldn’t be happening.
“Now now Jimmy, none of that. This is going to be a good day don’t you know?” The man’s features twisted into a sickening smile, “Well, good for me.” He laughed then, both of them laughed, Jim lay on the concrete slab they called a bed, propped up on one elbow and felt the rage twist with the terror. Distantly however he felt a faint gratitude for the distraction. At least he’d get to do one thing he’d like before… Well, at least he’d get to do something he’d wanted to do for a long time now.

He surged to his feet, lunged at the man, drew back his fist, and then fell as a blow from one of the men’s batons impacted on his head.

There was something about the pain that for a reason he’d never know, felt right. Well, felt like it belonged there. He didn’t know why. Jim lay motionless on the floor, cradling the piece of his head where the man had struck him and waited for the pain to subside.

They laughed louder. The sound seemed to leap around in his battered head, it made the pain worse.
“My day’s just getting better and better.” The first guard proclaimed from above him, “Come on Jimmy Boy, on your feet. You’ve got a big day ahead remember?”
_____________________________________________________________________

“Excuse me pal, could you spare a light?”

Jim looked up from the bench where the remnants of his half eaten sandwich lay. Towering above him was an unreasonably tall man with the smell of beer on his breath and by the looks of things, only three teeth.
“Sort of.” He replied cryptically and reached into his coat pocket. After pushing past a collection of receipts that had been gradually gathering there, he pulled out a box of matches that he’d gotten from some bar or another. It might have even been when he was in Scottsdale. He’d needed that drink then, needed it to steady his nerves.

At the sight of the matches, the man helped himself to the seat next to Jim, almost sitting on his sandwich in the process. He produced a cigarette from somewhere deep within a dirty looking coat.
“Thanks pal, I appreciate it.”
“Don’t mention it.”

The man fumbled with the match and after throwing two away after accidentally snapping them in half, finally managed to light a third one. He lit the cigarette and soon puffed out a lungful of smoke, which the wind blew in Jim’s direction. Making him regret giving him the matches in the first place.

The man handed the matches back to Jim, he waved his hand.
“You keep ‘em. I don’t smoke.”

The toothless grin that the man replied with seemed so heartfelt that Jim momentarily worried that he was going to try and hug him.
“Your loss,” He said after the grin faded, “They can say what they like about all the dangers and all that. But my attitude is, like with most things. To hell with it. You might as well enjoy yourself right? I mean, eat well, stay healthy, die anyway, right?”

Jim momentarily wondered if there was some part of him that attracted the eccentric. It seemed that no matter where he went there was always someone who was ready to yammer in his ear about the most random things. ‘Lonely old people’, he told himself, ‘He was just always in the wrong place at the wrong time. No luck.’

At those final two words he spat out a savage bark that through some stretch of the imagination could have been called a laugh. No luck, yeah, that’s about the size of it.

The man stared at him as if he was the weird one. He was probably right.
“What’s funny?”
“Nothing, point of fact I happen to agree with you.” He paused. He wondered if he should tell him. After all, it wasn’t like it mattered now was it?
“Yeah, I mean look at me.” The man gestured at himself with both hands, “I’ve done what I wanted my whole life, I look like death, but I’m happy.”
“I did that once.” Jim replied, setting himself up for the story.

The man’s face took on a look which strangely mixed disappointment with panic. That shouldn’t have happened yet, the story had only just started.

Jim realised that the man wasn’t looking at him. He turned his head, and saw two policemen coming his way. They looked, well, they looked pleased. I guess not everyone handed themselves to them like he was doing.
“Thanks for the matches pal.” Said the man hurriedly, giving him a comradely slap on the shoulder, “See you later.”
“Yeah.” Jim replied dismissively, standing as he did so, “see you.”

He turned to face the policemen as the man took off behind him.
_____________________________________________________________________

One on either side. One hand on either of his shoulders, the other on their batons. In case he tried anything again he guessed. Maybe he should. After all, there was nothing left to lose. But he didn’t feel up to it. He didn’t feel up to anything except trying to quell the rising bile in his throat and push away the ever growing terror.

There were two other people who were walking behind them. Jim didn’t know who they were.

It’d been a long road which had led him to this. And most of that road had involved him sitting perfectly still, counting the 48 ceiling tiles again and again. It was a good way to get to sleep.

What the hell took them so long? Why couldn’t they have gotten it over with when he’d first got here? It would have been…

No.

It was quiet. Really quiet. He couldn’t even hear the footsteps on the hard stone floor. Which it had to be said, looked remarkably elaborate considering what it was leading towards.

No!

His hand started shaking. It did that a lot, ever since he’d fired the gun. Especially now that there was a good reason for it to shake. Jim was surprised it had taken it so long for it to start.

Unbidden, an image of Jennifer’s smiling face shot into his mind.

NO!

The all too familiar pain that her face still brought in him almost caused Jim to throw up then and there. He came to an abrupt stop and bent over.
“Oh for Christ’s sake. Here we go.” The voice wasn’t a familiar one. From behind him, someone pushed a bucket under his face.
“If you’re gonna be sick then do it now.” Said the guard on his right. It was the same one that had hit him earlier. Jim turned his still pounding head to face the man. Who promptly pushed it back towards the bucket.
“Don’t even think about it Jimmy. No one’s going to care if you show up with your nose pointing the wrong way.”

After a few moments in which nothing happened, the bucket was taken away. The guard on his left prodded Jim in the back with his baton and soon the five of them were moving again.
_____________________________________________________________________

God it was hot.

Then again, he was in Arizona, at least he thought he was. Geography had never been Jim’s specialty.
Never give anyone directions Mclean, he could hear Mrs. Paterson, his old geography teacher whisper in his head. You’ll probably send ‘em to a watery grave.

That friendly joke had come moments before she’d handed him back an essay with a large, unfriendly ‘F’ on it.

Well, he didn’t have to give directions. He just had to follow them. That was painless enough. He checked the street name with the crude map he’d printed off and began to walk.
It wouldn’t be long now. He’d reach Jennifer’s house, he’d go in, try to calm her down, realise he couldn’t and then realise that it didn’t really matter. Whatever happened, he was still going to kill the bastard.

He pushed out a long breath as some part of his mind that had somehow managed to cling to sanity tried once more to dissuade him from making this journey. To stop him from, as Jennifer would probably describe it, from throwing his life away.

He never could understand Jennifer, she was always so selfless, no matter what the cost. She’d helped him and Larry study for the finals at the cost of her own studying back in high school. At college she’d leant him money more times then he could count, and probably kept him from having to drop out as a result.

Now she was keeping quiet, smiling at the right times, carefully concealing the black eyes on her face. All to protect some worthless excuse for a human being that dared call himself her husband.

Not any more, he wouldn’t let her go through her life like that; he wouldn’t let her be a punch bag for some creature that didn’t deserve to live, let alone her. She deserved better then that. He owed her more then that. And he couldn’t lie to himself any more; he loved her. But that didn’t make any difference. He’d do the same for Larry, or Dave or any of them. They all had more to live for then he did anyway. Larry had a wife and son, Dave’s wife was pregnant. Emma, whenever he spoke to her, seemed barely able to talk about anything other then this booker prize or whatever it was that she’d been given. And Jennifer, well, she’d have a future. Soon enough anyway.

He had nothing like that. In comparison to them, he was expendable.

The journey had been the quickest of his life. The heat seemed to slip away behind his determination. No one got in his way as he walked to the house, no one handed out coupons for discount meals at newly opened restaurants, or promotional flyers for some politician. Even the cars seemed to be remaining courteously quiet.

Jim kept walking, stopping only to check the map and make sure he was going the right way. The image of Jennifer’s smiling face kept him going, beat back the ever growing anxiety, and quietened the incessant, chaotic thumping in his chest. Of course, credit where its due, the image of the face that had replaced it when he’d seen her at Dave’s wedding with him. The carefully constructed half smiles, the forced laughter, the loose strand of hair working in vain with whatever makeup was trying to conceal the bruise on her face.

Not for much longer. It would all be over soon.
_____________________________________________________________________

Was that chair laughing at him?

He stared at the crude looking piece of furniture and distantly thought that it should have spikes on its arm rests or something. Its very reason for being was to stop people from being. But now that he saw it, it looked woefully unequal to the task. Too small, too thin. It was nothing like the terrifying contraptions that had haunted his dreams ever since he’d gotten here.

He felt calm, almost, but not exactly relieved. It was over. At long last it was finally over. He’d paid the price he’d swore to himself, swore to Jennifer that he’d pay. He’d paid it in pain, nightmares, tears, everything he could. Now at last, assuming he didn’t have the fires of Hell to contend with after all was said and done, he was going to be free of it.
“I’m sorry Jennifer.” He said for the last time under his breath. He could face her now.
“Sorry’s not gonna save you now Jimmy boy.” Sneered the guard on his left.

The brief moment of clarity disintegrated in that instant, and for what must have been the hundredth time, Jim felt the sudden urge to rearrange the guard’s face.

Now or never.
_____________________________________________________________________

He held her long after his disbelieving mind had accepted the fact that she was gone.

He didn’t know how long he’d been crying, nor did he have any inclination to give the topic any thought.

On the far side of the wrecked kitchen. His target lay dead with five bullets holes punching through his chest. In the heat of the afternoon, the smell of blood would have been overpowering to anyone who’d been able to pay it any attention.

The gun had held six bullets. The sixth one had…

Jim’s eyes tightened and he gripped the body of the woman he loved, the woman he’d killed, tighter.

Why? Why had she put herself in his way like that? The man was scum? He probably would have killed given time and enough whiskey. Why did she do it? Didn’t she want to get rid of him?

A fresh wave of pain surged through Jim, and he forced his eye open and searched the floor desperately for the gun. Only to find it was still in his right hand. He could barely feel his hand, which was now shaking.

He couldn’t take it. He couldn’t stand the reality of it.

Gradually, he eased the gun around and pressed it against his chest. With one final look at Jennifer’s bloodied corpse, he pulled the trigger.

His body spasmed, but the only thing to leave the gun was a disinterested sounding click. Distantly, Jim realised that he had used up all the bullets.

He wailed. It was a short, pitiful sound of utter hopelessness. He threw the gun across the floor and collapsed into a wailing wreck next to Jennifer’s body.
_____________________________________________________________________

The guy who was speaking sounded a bit like Mark Hamill.
“Electricity shall now pass through your body until you are dead. In accordance with the state of Texas, may God have mercy on your soul.”

Jim spared one last glance at the guard with the black eye. There was something terribly freeing about punching him, even if his face had been smashed beyond all recognition as a result. Maybe that would make it hurt less.

The guard returned his grin with a smirk of his own. Behind it was a silent promise that it wouldn’t be funny for very long, not when he was burning alive in the chair he was now strapped into.

He was probably right.

Shouldn’t there be a priest here? Reading last rights or something?

Jennifer’s face came back to him one last time; he could bear to think about her now. Sometimes he could, sometimes he couldn’t. Who knew, maybe they’d see each other soon.

A faint humming noise started to emerge from below him. Or did it? Why should there be humming?

Jim clamped his eyes tightly shut; this was supposed to be a quick and relatively painless method of execution, according to legend anyway. A quick jolt, straight to the brain and...and who was he kidding. This wasn’t going to be quick, it might not even be over in one go. It would be slow, and it would be the most painful thing he’d ever go through, apart from seeing Jennifer sprawled out on the…

Then abruptly he couldn’t bear to think of her again.

That’s why you came here.

The humming was getting louder with each passing second. He could feel his chest tightening all the more with the increase in volume.

What’s taking so long?
“Okay, we’re ready to roll. Any last words Jimmy Boy?”
“No.”

The End