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Time Tsunami

By Danele J. Rotharmel

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Tears flooded Gil Montgomery’s eyes as Daniel Winston was strapped down to a gleaming metal gurney. She blinked back the moisture. She knew Daniel wouldn’t appreciate her pity. She also knew her tears were inappropriate. His crimes had been violent.

Gil shuddered as heavy buckles were tightened across Daniel’s chest. She’d known that observing executions would be part of her job when she joined the TEMCO program at National Science University, but she hadn’t considered the harsh realities of watching a life being extinguished.

As another shudder ripped through her body, a deep voice whispered, “Are you okay?”

Gil nodded and squared her shoulders. With a glance at her adviser, Dr. William Ableman, she said in an unconvincing voice, “I’m fine.”

William’s soft, warm eyes peered into hers. She knew he was discerning enough to recognize her words as a lie. Looking down at her hands, she desperately tried to regain her composure.

“It’ll be over soon,” he murmured.

“Seven minutes at the least or two hours at the most,” she mumbled.

“I’m sorry you have to see this.”

“It’s part of a time counselor’s job. I can handle it.”

“I know, but I’m still sorry.”

Gil glanced up at William. He was in his mid-thirties and was handsome even though the lower half of his face was hidden by a wiry beard. As his gaze captured hers, the compassion she saw caught her by the throat. She looked away swiftly and bit down on the inside of her cheek. She was going to lose it if she wasn’t careful, and breaking down would really impress the TEMCO Review Board. If she wanted to earn her Time-Counselor License, she needed to get control of herself.

She watched as William reached toward her shoulder. Before he touched her, he stopped short and said, “The first execution’s always hard to watch.”

“Does it get any easier?”

“Honestly? Not really. Not ever. But at least you know what to expect after your first.”

Digging her fingernails into her palms, she nodded and reminded herself that she was there to bring hope to a hopeless situation. She looked back through the glass at the man strapped to the execution gurney. His burn-ravaged face was twisted into lines of defiance. His body was held rigid and unrepentant. As she watched, his arms were swabbed with alcohol in preparation for cannula insertion. He had only a few minutes left to live—alcohol sterilization seemed like some kind of macabre, ghastly joke.

As if feeling her gaze, Daniel looked at her with his uninjured eye—his other eye was shriveled in its socket. She expected him to look away, but he didn’t. As her tears threatened to fall, a flickering change came over his face. Suddenly, she could see past his defiance to the regret and fear he was trying to hide. As they stared at each other, Daniel’s face softened and a tear slowly gathered in the corner of his eye.

Across the viewing room, a voice hissed, “That’s right! Cry! I hope you feel yourself dying. I hope you feel more pain than my wife ever felt. I hope you go straight to—”

Gil stopped listening to the ranting words and continued staring at the inmate’s face. Although he winced as two intravenous cannulas were introduced into his arms, he refused to look away from her. It was as if he were gathering strength from her and using it to help him through his final moments. Gil felt an overwhelming wave of sadness as slender plastic tubes were attached to his cannulas. She hated what she was seeing. She knew he was evil, but she also knew there was good in him. She’d seen that goodness during their interviews. She’d heard it in his voice when he sang softly in his prison cell. He wasn’t a complete monster—the good in him was hidden to most people, but she knew it was there. It went deep, and it was worth fighting for. He was worth fighting for.

As attendants attached Daniel to a heart monitor, his layers of hate and anger seemed to be stripped away, leaving him with a vulnerable, emotionally naked appearance. As she watched, sorrow filled his face.

I’m so sorry, she mouthed silently to him.

One corner of his mouth twitched up as he shook his head and mouthed back just as silently, Don’t be.

“Daniel Winston,” the warden said solemnly, “do you wish to make a final statement?”

Daniel nodded, and at last, his single tear fell. For the first time since he’d captured it, he broke his gaze with Gil. She watched as he looked over at the angry man behind the glass. “I want you to know how sorry I am about your wife and unborn daughter,” he said in a choked voice. “I didn’t mean to shoot your wife, but it was my actions that put her in danger and it was my bullet that killed her. If I could change what happened to your family, I would. I hope my death will bring you the closure you deserve.”

The man jumped forward and slammed his fist against the glass. “Save your fancy speeches! Just die! You hear me? Just die!”

Gil watched as Daniel swallowed hard and stared at the knot of furious people in the viewing room. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured thickly. “I know I deserve this. I should’ve died in the fire. My life has brought nothing but pain. I know how evil I am, but I wasn’t always this way. I used to be good, and kind, and…”

His voice trailed away as a hiss rose from the relatives of his victims. Biting his lip, he said to Gil, “Perhaps the thread of my existence can be changed. But if it can’t...I’m glad it’s finally over.”

The warden signaled for the execution to begin. Reaching over, Gil grabbed her advisor’s hand. William jerked and looked at her in a startled fashion. Gil’s breath turned into strangled gasps as three drugs were injected sequentially into Daniel’s cannulas. William awkwardly stepped closer and put an arm around her shoulders. Collapsing against him, Gil stared with blurry vision through the Plexiglas window.

* * *

Daniel watched as William tightened his arm around Gil. Seeing the golden girl held close to her adviser—and also seeing the rapid way the doctor was breathing—a smile came to Daniel’s lips. Suddenly, his eyelids began to flutter. He knew that the first drug inserted into his cannula, a short-action barbiturate, was about to render him unconscious. It was the State’s final act of mercy before the second drug would cause sustained paralysis of his diaphragm, and the third drug would stop his heart. He peered over at Gil’s pretty face—he wanted it to be the last thing he saw. His body shivered and spasmed. Her blonde hair seemed to swirl into a cloudy storm of gold. She was inexpressibly lovely. He tried to focus on her eyes, but they seemed to explode into thousands of bits of bluish light.

As Daniel Winston’s eyes slowly rolled up toward the back of his head, he murmured softly, “Here’s to second chances."

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