Ambrosia

“Without a little chaos, what would people have to look forward to?”

These were the last words I spoke to my best friend, Keith Watts, before he died a little over two years ago. In retrospect it was a poor choice of words on my part looking at where my life was now. After that one statement, it seemed like my whole life had turned into nothing but chaos. But this life would all be over soon…because I was about to be executed within the next few minutes.

Lethal injection was the chosen method. Not by me of course. If I’d had my way I would have died in a harem being tended by the most beautiful women in the world, but sadly that’s too humane for the American justice system. I suppose it would also be too good of a death for a man who supposedly slaughtered his best friend’s entire family; a family who had taken him in when he was facing hard times and treated him like their own flesh and blood. For as long as Keith and I knew each other we might as well have been pulled from the same womb. Perhaps if I had pleaded insanity I could have lived a little longer. The evidence stacked against me proved beyond a reasonable doubt that I was the culprit, but I knew to the contrary: I was innocent.

I’d been sleeping on the couch in Keith’s living room when the murder took place but I’d woken up in his youngest daughter’s bedroom in a puddle of blood. The police had already arrived by the time I’d gained consciousness with a knife lying in each hand and scratches on my face. Apparently, my DNA was found under the fingernails of Keith’s wife, Anna, and there were signs of a struggle in their bedroom.

Keith had three daughters named Asia, Egypt, and Eden, ages 4, 10 and 12 respectively. Three of the prettiest, smartest, and most charming sweethearts you could ever meet. If anyone had ever hurt one of those girls in anyway, I would personally want them dead myself. This was probably why the jury didn’t need much time to find me guilty. Not that my defense attorney (provided by the state, of course) was too convincing in his appeal anyway.

I knew I wasn’t a sleepwalker or some freak with a secret hatred for my friend. Of course, he had the perfect life with a beautiful family, a great home and a dream job as a corporate exec for one of the largest advertising agencies in the country, but I didn’t loathe him for living the “American dream”. I admired the man and I loved him and his family probably more than my own kin. But there was someone out there who did want Keith’s family dead or someone who just happened to have a grudge against me. Whoever that someone was would soon have their ultimate victory though…

I was already strapped into a small chair in the dimly lit room with the single window that only gave me a view of my own reflection. There was an armed guard standing by the only door of the room. He reminded me of a buffer version of Doctor Phil. I already knew that the onlookers on the other side of the window who barely contained their deep-seated contempt of treacherous, women-and-children-killing scum like me were probably anxious to see the grand finale of my life. Too bad I couldn’t go out with fireworks and a full parade to really satisfy everyone.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not taking this as lightheartedly as I try to appear to be. I’m actually feeling fear, anger, sadness, and every other negative emotion any human being could feel after experiencing a tragedy and falling into a predicament like my own. I’d been feeling all of these emotions since that night…

My executioner, a small balding man who resembled an older, more refined John C. Reilly (I’m just seeing celebrities everywhere on my death-day) finally entered with a small cart that had three needles placed neatly on a tray and a Bible lying next to them. I guess most people would call that irony.

I already knew how the cocktail was mixed: The first vial would be the sodium thiopental, or possibly pentobarbital, which would cause sedation, followed by pancuronium bromide to induce paralysis, and finally potassium chloride to stop my heart. I know, it’s sick that I know all of this, but I just happen to read a lot of books, and chemistry was my favorite subject in high school and college.

The executioner, who I affectionately dubbed “John”, nodded to me and greeted me with a smile. I think there was more malice in the smile than amity, but maybe I was just seeing everyone as an enemy in these final moments. He picked up the Bible and read a few scriptures from the Book of John (again, irony) before he prayed. Who would think that an executioner could double as a minister? If I’d actually taken advantage of a last request I might’ve asked to have T.D. Jakes personally send me off to be judged at the pearly gates.

After replacing the Bible on the cart, he proceeded to tightening an additional strap that I hadn’t noticed before around my arm. His frail frame belied the strength he really possessed. I think there was far more gentleness in his smile than his handling of me. He didn’t have any trouble finding a vein, and I knew that it would be time for the juice soon enough.

As “John” turned his back to me to pick up the first of the needles, my mind began to scream at me to struggle, to break free. I was clearly panicking now that my death was so close at hand. Needless to say that that didn’t last long after the first needle found my vein. I was completely calm then. Next, the second needle followed, but I didn’t even feel it. In fact, I couldn’t feel anything at this point. Finally, I saw the last needle removed from the tray and all I could think was, Well here it comes…

The final needle went into my arm and it was over. Or so I thought…
I couldn’t feel my heart beating but I did feel something. It felt like a rush of adrenaline, a surge of energy that was coursing through my body. What ever this sensation was, it felt unnatural.

This must be what death feels like for people who go to heaven, I thought. But that’s when the pain shot through me. It was like I was hit by a freight truck that was traveling at 200 miles per hour. All at once I felt every nerve in my body screaming. My body began to convulse. I was arching my back and surprisingly I didn’t feel much resistance from my bonds.

I had shut my eyes earlier without realizing it, but now both of my peepers snapped open. I saw that “John” was now backing away and screaming something, but I couldn’t really understand him. His voice sounded amplified and distorted, like he was screaming into a megaphone right in my face. I saw the guard, also known as “Phil”, now drawing his firearm from the holster and stepping forward while “John” stared back at me in horror and stumbled toward the door. They both seemed to be using exaggerated movements. It was like they were moving in slow motion.

“Phil” finally had his gun fully drawn now after what seemed like five minutes to me (of course, I exaggerate) and he was screaming and pointing his weapon right at my head. “Don’t move!” he said.

I was glad I could hear again, but I honestly had no idea how he expected me to move anyway after he’d seen me get bolted down to the chair. I figured security only sees so much action and he was looking for an excuse to use his gun. Being able to say you capped a guy always gets some level of interest from the ladies.

I soon noticed that my body had already stopped convulsing. I cut my eyes down and I saw what had happened now. In my throes of pain, I had somehow managed to break my restraints. What looked like a bruise, or maybe even a birthmark, had formed over the place on my arm where I had been inoculated. I flexed my arm and then I heard the explosion which I automatically assumed was the guard’s weapon being fired. I looked up and confirmed my assumptions. In fact, I could literally see the bullet moving straight toward me. Oddly enough, the guard couldn’t have been standing more than eight feet from me.

Instinctively, I leaned to the right to evade the projectile. I guess at this point it was no surprise that I succeeded. I heard two more explosions and this time I also saw the bullets immediately as they were discharged from the handgun. The guard appeared to be panicking because the consecutive shots were flying in odd angles, but they were still directed to me. I was still sitting down at the moment I saw the bullets. The first shot would have hit me in my neck but I was on my feet in an instant and I twisted just enough to dodge it easily, but I didn’t have as much luck with the second shot. The bullet hit me squarely in the center of my chest. I flinched, but it tickled.

The guard was backpedalling to the door now, his eyes wide and his shots going awry. I didn’t mean to cause panic, but I didn’t want to let him get out with a weapon in hand while he was clearly spooked. In about three steps I covered the distance between myself and the guard, managing to dodge or deflect his shots. I reached for the gun just as the guard was crossing the threshold and as my fingers closed over the muzzle of his weapon I saw and felt the cold metal bend at my touch.

“Phil” released his weapon and fell back through the door. After he hit the floor on his back he quickly got his hands underneath him and began to do a comical crabwalk down the hallway before me. My eyes followed him until he got a few feet back and I noticed several more armed guards with rifles pouring through a door at the end of the hall. A silent alarm must have been raised or cameras must have caught everything that had happened.
I already knew that a fight wouldn’t end well for anyone, especially my armed adversaries at the end of the hall. I stepped back into the small room and slammed the door before the first shot could be fired. I reached up and yanked the handle off for good measure. My only way out now was the small window. No tough choices there.

Naturally, I stepped back, took two steps forward and leapt with my fists first through the glass. My feet literally left the ground and in the moment before I collided with the window I saw my reflection and faintly smiled to myself as I thought, Superman style. The glass fell away easily and I hit the floor on the other side smoothly, only to roll once and fall clumsily across a chair. I automatically had to look around to make sure no one saw that… Unfortunately, someone did.

The room was completely vacant with the exception of a single man wearing glasses, a blue dress shirt with a candy-striped blue and white tie and black slacks, who remained seated at the back of the room. He appeared to be middle-aged and Middle Eastern. He was sitting cross-legged and stared expectantly at me.

“Hello, Riley,” he said to me. “Are you ready to go?”

“Ready to go where?” I asked. “Who are you?”

“Are you ready to go with me,” he said simply. “And as to who I am, I’d rather not explain that here. Besides, we really should go quickly. The ambrosia’s effects are often unpredictable.”

“Ambrosia?”

“Yes. Ambrosia. The nectar of the gods. It was the name given to the superhuman serum that was administered to you.”

“But how—” I started as I got on my feet.

“We really should go,” he said interrupting me and standing to his own feet. “Now.”

Two of the things I hate most in this world are people who boss me around and people who interrupt me when I’m speaking. I was going to let it slide this time though.

The man was turning on his heels toward a door to his left. “You should probably go ahead first,” he said without looking back. “I will be behind you shortly.” He opened the door and made a quick bow with a sweeping gesture as if to say “after you”. He had a smirk on his face and a mischievous glint in his eye when he finally looked back in my direction. I think I could grow to like this guy or potentially hate him depending on what answers he offered me later. It seemed like I was stepping into a new world of chaos.
Chaos, I thought. Ha! I guess with a new lease on life I have a lot to look forward to.

I leapt over the chairs and sprinted past the man and through the door, not completely sure of what was on the other side. I was sure of one thing though: If I could make it through this alive, whoever set me up and killed my friend and his family would pay.