Remember me in your nightmares

Remember me in your nightmares

“Deacon Delacroix of Hex sector is hereby condemned to death by firing squad on June 27th, 2027. Public execution. Crimes include Level 5 arsonry, battery, assault of a Military officer, trespassing on capital property, level 3 theft and burglary, and treason against the capital. No pardon.”

I hear my name echo throughout the circuit court. I listen faintly, smiling slyly at the list of crimes committed. Treason to an authoritarian government is as simple as breathing differently.

2 MP’s step behind me and grip my upper arms painfully. I resist wincing, and smile cockily instead. “Watch the face. Ladies love bad boys.” They both tightened their grips, and I grinned. They locked electromagnetic cuffs around my wrists, careful not to let my wrists touch the metal cuffs, but instead hover in the middle. No gravity around my wrists. Wrists don’t work correctly. Metal burns. I wish we had the cuffs I heard about from before the revolution. Apparently, they were regular metal cuffs. Lucky. They walk me back to my 8x10 cell and stop me. I look at the cell door when out the corner of my eye, I see something move. I freeze careful not to alert the guards behind me and tilt my head slightly. They look at me and our eyes meet. I tip my chin up slightly and drop to the floor as both mp’s drop from .07 amps of electricity hitting their bodies. I look up cautiously, not liking the vulnerable state I am currently in. If they wanted to kill me I would be the one on the ground already.

The figure stands, presses something into my hand and whispers hoarsely, “Be ready.” before disappearing down the hallway. I open my hand, put it into my mouth and swallow, hearing shouting down the hall. I slowly raise my hands smiling as the commander rounds the corner. He steps forward, raises his service pistol, and everything goes black.

I wake up with a start, stop, and keeps my eyes closed inhaling deeply. Mental assessment: Cloth bag, disinfectant, faint Chloroform smell. Internal clock: Late. Diagnostic: June 27th, 2027. Execution. The bag is pulled off my head and I open my eyes slowly, greeted by blinding lights, and a crowd of nearly 300 people. MP’s line the platform, as crowd control. 2 large screens on either side, projecting holographs of my face.

“Deacon Delacroix. You are to be executed in 1 minute exactly.” The commander says, voice gruff, and unsympathetic. A holographic timer counts down on the screens. 6 high ranking military officials armed with 7.62 Assault rifles. All six line up, military stiff, as the clock winds down. Commander off to the side watching the Militants.

10...9...8....

“Stance!”

7...6...5...4...

“Take aim!”

3...2...1…

I look each of them in the eyes defiantly and lift my chin. I want them to see me as they shoot me. I want them to remember my face. I will be in their nightmares. I never once look away. I look the commander in the eyes, He smiles triumphantly. I smile back, not afraid, but amused.

All 6 guns point at my head.

Inhale.. exhale.. inhale..

Lights out.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

I like the story and how you set-up the flow of thoughts leading to very good ending. You create place, visions and allowed the reader to feel the destine ending. No weakness in the powerful tale. Thank you for sharing the excellent story.
Coyote