Posted by critmk on May 30, 2003 at 10:33:29:
To view the PICTURES that go with this novel, open a new window to my briefcase at
http://photos.yahoo.com/bc/critmk/lst?.dir=/Sisters+novel&.view=t
Sisters
a novel by critmk
Chapter 25: Heaven Is a Place Where Nothing Ever Happens
“That’s it, Chaplain, Warden. That’s the whole story.”
The two men stood mute and amazed, pretty much as they had for the four hours it took me to relate my murderous history. They’d come in at midnight to prepare me physically and spiritually for my execution at dawn, and instead heard a bedtime story that kept them up all night. And for a few nights to come, I should think.
Their first surprise was that I spoke at all. Since my arrest, I had said precisely one word: guilty. After uttering it, at the plea hearing, I had kept a Trappist silence. One of the guards, who happened to have an M.A. in Russian literature to go with his mean streak, started calling me Raskolnikov.
What was there to say? I was a mass murderer. I was guilty and accepted my fate. And they had me; DNA evidence connected the killings in the law office, at the lingerie shop, at the estate in Lake Geneva and at the hotel in St. Louis.
There was no point in trying to shift blame to Barbara. Who would believe me? So I shut up, to deny her amusement. Silence also shifted attention away from her, although she did make the rounds of the women’s talk shows as a weepy, aggrieved victim.
The rest of the media were more interested in me: The Quiet Killer. The Mystery Man. The Mute Monster. Each tabloid gave me a nick.
The weirdest thing was that women loved this shit. Not a day went by that I didn’t receive proposals of marriage or requests for conjugal visits from some crazy female. Many included sexy pictures – some even posed as ketchup-smeared corpses. What a strange world.
The Warden and the Chaplain stood stunned and silent for a long time. Finally, the Chaplain went into his well-rehearsed spiel:
“My son, you have committed terrible crimes against God, the state and humanity, but your immortal soul can still be saved if you repent, wholeheartedly and…”
“Stop right there, Parson. First, I have no regrets, except for those two teenagers I killed in the back room of the lingerie shop. The rest of those greedy broads – I’m glad I offed them. I’m glad I fucked them. I had a blast.
“Second, if there is a hell, I want to burn in it. I want to be there waiting when Barbara Laufer dies, so I can kill the bitch again.”
As gray light filtered through the high barred window, they wheeled in the gurney and strapped me down. It was just procedure; I wasn’t interested in struggling.
From the death chamber, I could see shadowy shapes of a half-dozen witnesses through the glass. Barbara was making a big show of sobbing. The Chaplain, whom I’d dismissed, was in the viewing room, too. He took a step toward her, as if to console her, then thought better of it. He backed off a few steps, folded his arms, and considered her.
Golden sunshine flooded in from the skylight directly above me. It was time.
The IV drip burned around the needle, but otherwise the drug was not unpleasant. I got drowsy very quickly. I idly scanned the glass and saw that all eyes were on me. I stopped at Barbara. She interrupted her theatrical sobbing long enough to blow a surreptitious kiss and wave bye-bye.
The smirk left her face when I mouthed: I will be waiting.
In the white room, there is no time. No day, no night. Just white light.
I’m standing naked. The wound in my side, where Barbara shot me, never stops aching or bleeding, but the red pool at my feet never widens.
A door creaks open far up the corridor. Dozens of nearly identical women in white bras and panties enter and walk slowly and distractedly my way.
[dreamgirls.jpg goes here.]
I can feel the weight of a heavy gun hanging in my right hand. I do not raise it. I might be paralyzed. Or I might simply lack the will to do anything but stand still.
The women take a long while to pass. The last of them pauses by my side. I do not turn to her as she murmurs: “She will come.”
I have a vague sense that all of this has happened before, but I’m not sure, and I don’t really care. The footfalls of the last woman grow fainter. Somewhere behind me, a door creaks and shuts.
And I am alone in the long white room. Alone and waiting for Barbara.
THE END