Blade

Alfie looked me right in the eye. I was just one guard. One who walked behind him to the execution chamber. Tonight, I was the one who stood at the door. It was a useless position. Where would he run to? Where were at least five locked doors between him and the outside, each one controlled by a correction officer. And if by some unknown stroke of luck, he made it out of the building, there were two razor-wire fences and armed guards in every tower. He would have no chance of escaping the death chamber.

Alfie looked at me, his eyes leaking tears. “So, this is it?” His voice was raspy from disuse. His expression was sorrowful.

“Yes. Are you scared?” I said, my own hands trembling. He smiled. That sad smile I came to know.

“Yes. In a way. Wish I’d had more time.” Our court system was more efficient. The court sentenced Alfie 6 months ago. All his appeals went through the courts at record speed. “It…” He cleared his throat. “It…it’s supposed…to be…painless, right?”

I almost smiled at that. How was I to know? “That’s what they tell me.”

By that time, we had reached the chamber. I stepped forward and opened the heavy door. The chamber was soundproof, so you couldn’t hear the screams I had planned for tonight. He shook as we fitted him into the chair. “Please, please.” He was openly weeping. “Just…just a…little more …time.”

“Sorry.” I said not meaning it. The other officers and I exited the chamber. I watched him through the glass of the killing room. He was openly weeping now, his head on his chest. The witnesses were leaning forward. The parents of the little boy he killed were sitting there, as was the prosecutor. Together, we watched the clock. As the hands reached 12, my fingers hovered over the cover. I could feel Alfie’s eyes on me. The clock struck midnight.

My fingers trembling, I lifted the safety cover and hit the large red button. A huge, razor-sharp knife swung down and sliced off the top of Alfie’s head at the hairline. Blood streamed down his face. You could see his brain. The look of terror on his face must be what his victim felt before he died. He screamed and kept on screaming. No one heard a sound outside the chamber. I almost laughed. His expression was one of pure horror. He looked at me through the glass. I smiled at him and readjusted the blade. I had a warm feeling deep within my heart. I readjusted the blade and hit the red button again. This time the blade hit him right below the chin. It sliced off his head as neatly as any sword. His body jerked around the straps holding him. His body stilled. A conveyor took the body and the head away. A mortician would prepare him for the funeral. Alfie would appear to be sleeping.

  Suddenly the chamber filled with water as the washing cycle took place. After the washing cycle completed, the dryer kicked on. The chamber was ready in five minutes. Next week we will perform another execution.

I went home after that. It took me until dawn to come down. The thrill I had from killing my son’s murderer did that to me. His mother and I met one night. She was drunk; I wasn’t. She didn’t remember, but I did.