|
As she came into view of the waiting gallery, she kept her steely glare on the chair before her. She did not fight or struggle with the Wardens, but walked tall. When they reached the chair, she sat rigid as her feet, hands and body were strapped down by the death chair's leather bonds. Only when she was fully restrained and a long tubed stethoscope taped to her chest, did the Wardens take a step back, revealing Wilhemina in all her executionary glory. And only then did her eyes focus, and glare at each and every one of her macabre audience in turn. Once each of them had received their silent and vengeful acknowledgement, she let her eyes rest on the man sitting in front of her on the other side of the glass. Ian Jeffreys' eyes locked back on her. His gut turned again and he tried to tear his gaze away, but couldn't.
The eerie silence was broken by the Warden.
"Wilhemina Morecroft. For your heinous crime of the murder upon your husband, Joseph Dale Morecroft, you have been sentenced to die by cyanide. Do you have any last words?"
Wilhemina nodded, her eyes still fixed on the Ian, her voice bolder now than it had been in all her life.
"I concede that my husband died at my hands, but I am an innocent, brought here by the cruel hand of fate. But to those who aided that hand, beware. Justice will be done and my soul will not rest until it does. May my beloved son," and here a tear formed in her eye and her voice cracked at his name, "Daniel," she stopped for a moment to compose herself, "always know the truth, that I saved us both. And may we reunite in heaven."
The vengeful and sorrowful speech held everyone still. Wilhemina's sister Felicity, now beloved Daniel's carer, wept at the back of the room, comforted by her husband John. Others averted their eyes from the chamber. Ian was frozen. Fully aware he should be writing it all down, he simply couldn't move as the word 'beware' rattled in his brain. No need to write it down, it was all fixed in his mind.
Wilhemina allowed her eyes to close for a moment as a tear ran free, then glared into his eyes again. Then barely audible, she hissed at Ian.
"Wicked Willie!" And then a smile, "I shall be in death."
His eyes widened, and she smiled a second longer, then it slipped from view and she let her eyes leave his, and stare beyond them all, seeing only her dear son's face in her mind's eye as she let everything else disappear.
She barely heard the Warden say, "God have mercy on your soul."
He checked her restraints, and said to her softly, "Take a deep breath, and hold it for as long as you can. Don't fight the gas."
Then the Wardens were gone, the door locked, Wilhemina alone. Senior Warden Howell looked at the clock: it was 10:28am. It was silent for a minute as he waited for the clock to hit its mark. When it did, 10:30 exactly, the sound of a motor whirring echoed through the room. In the gas chamber, Wilhemina breathed deeply. She closed her eyes and waited for the pellets to fall.
The silent witnesses watched as the deadly fumes began to fill the chamber, rising to the ceiling and taking over every inch of the tiny room. They whirled around Wilhemina like the hand of death, reaching up to her throat and choking her. She held her breath to the point where Ian thought that if she held it for a moment longer she might kill herself before the gas would have a chance to get to her. Her face strained with the effort as she clung to her pitiful life for as long as she could, her dear boy's face etched in her mind.
Then, at last, she could hold it no longer, and her mouth opened with a despairing moan as the last of the clean air she would ever breathe finally left her lungs. With her next gasp she finally inhaled the cyanide fumes that waited to take her.
A tear fell down her face as she coughed and gasped once more, then finally her head fell to her chest. Just as the witnesses began to relax with the relief that it was almost over, in a sudden movement, Wilhemina's head jerked up. A stunned shriek came from the back of the room, and a distressed murmur from some men at the side. Ian jumped in his seat at the rude awakening, and shook as Wilhemina's gaze met his for the final time. Then finally her bulging eyes flickered closed and her head fell to her chest once more.
The crowd did not relax this time and waited, holding their own breaths this time, until the clock reached 10:43am. Only then, when the prison doctor listened for her heartbeat through the tube in the wall connected to the stethoscope taped to her chest and pronounced her dead, did they relax. When Warden Howell came into the viewing room and asked them to leave, they all did so quickly and with quiet relief.
Except for Ian. He sat there fixed to his seat and pondered over the corpse of 'Wicked Willie'. How wicked was she now, sitting there slumped in that ugly steel chair? She would have been falling out of it if not for the heavy straps around her.
There her corpse would sit until the room cleared of gas in an hour or more when the Wardens would lift her out, heap her into a pine box and take her home to her family to bury and grieve over for the rest of their lives. Like any other dead person.
Only in death are we all equal, Ian thought, it is the only thing that humbles us all.
(c) Cynthia M. Piromalli 2003
©2003 StoriesByEmail.com
|
