Lethal Injection

by K M Lovold

  Price cleared his throat. “Battle Creek, Virginia, which is situated in the mountains of Virginia, is a maximum security prison, and I’ve been there a few times, as have Ian and Malaki.” He motioned towards them. “We all agree to bring D.R.O.P. there, and so while we have to trudge our way through the loss of Stanton and bringing on a new man, we’ve decided the new man—which most likely will be Caldwell—will be going to this new prison. And Henry.” Price pointed to Henry but may as well as slapped him in the face. “Since you were Stanton’s partner, you’ll be accompanying him there.”

  Henry nodded, his eyes dark and serious. He’d probably never banked on moving to the mountains of Virginia. And what would his new wife think of that? Not as if he had a choice in the matter. Once in The Circle, you were in for life. You did what you were told. Or else.

  “Very well then.” Price stood. “It was good to see you all again, even though the circumstances for this meeting are terrible indeed. As always, we’ll be in touch.” With that, Price took a last gulp of his coffee, fastened the middle button of his suit coat, and left the room.

  As soon as the door slid shut, several of the men gathered around Henry.

  Benjamin gripped Henry’s shoulder. “This is shocking news. How are you taking it?”

  “I don’t even know what to say.” Henry rubbed his forehead. “I – I don’t know how to tell Angela.”

  “It’ll be all right, you’ll see.” Julian encouraged him.

  Edward, oldest and wisest among The Circle, spoke solemnly. “I’ve been a part of this Circle for forty-some years. Don’t let this destroy you, young man. You’ll be at this prison for a time, but eventually, you’ll be able to move on. This is the way of things, my boy. All will be well.” Edward patted Henry’s back.

  After several minutes of offering promising words of support to Henry, Ian whispered to Malaki. “Let’s get out of here.” Once the door slid shut behind them, they strode away from the conference room so fast you’d think their life depended on it.

  And in a way, it did.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Reathran

  “I’m so sick of this, I wish I would just die already.” Nikolina Angelov swore under her breath. If one of the keepers heard her cuss, she’d pay for it.

  Why they cared so much about them keeping their language clean on this godforsaken planet, she had no idea. Everything else about this place was dirty. Evil. Pure evil. She wiped sweat off her brow with her arm and heaved a large rock of memroth into the cart next to her. That one was a dandy. It alone would get her more than halfway to her quota. She took a moment to catch her breath when she spotted Jack off in the distance talking to someone she’d never seen before. She squinted in the sunlight. Someone new.

  Wonder when he got here?

  Nikolina could tell from here he was good-looking, especially with that square jaw. He’d probably looked better on Earth, but on Reathran, he’d been filled with Tetracaphoxin, which made their skin thicker and rougher and made them look somewhat altered. The chemical also made them stronger, tougher, made them live longer. She should know. She’d already been here over twenty years and didn’t look a day older than when she’d arrived at age thirty.

  She narrowed her eyes at him. His short hair was pushed slightly to the side with trim sideburns. Something about him jumped out at her and gave her the chills. The way he glanced around as if looking for answers, scratching his unshaved cheek, a blank look on his face. He clearly didn’t understand why he was here. How could he not know?

  The other prisoners around him pummeled the mountain with pick axes, like the weight of their guilt powered their movement. But this new one’s confusion screamed his innocence. A gust of wind lifted his brown hair off his forehead, and a blast of dirt swirled around him. When it settled, his tall, thin form stood there, staring down at the ground. What must he be thinking?

  She could only guess. Here he was, convicted of a crime and put to death because of it.

  Or so he thought. So they all thought—

  “No more dawdling.” The keeper, David, appeared next to her. The prominent lines etched around his eyes along with dark shadows gave him a hardened look.

  “All right, all right.” Nikolina swore again quietly. “You know I’m a hard worker, but what’s wrong with taking a minute break now and again?” She glared at him, and he raked his fingers through his dusky, straight hair parted down the middle.

  “Fine. Take a breather. One more minute. Then back to work.” David gave her a half-smile, his teeth off-white and crooked.

  “Thanks.” Nikolina wasn’t surprised David gave in to her so easily. He’d been doing that lately. For the last year, he’d spoken to her more and more and was pretty much the only keeper who was actually nice to her. Seemed to be getting nicer and nicer, too.

  She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them, keeping them glued to the new man. Maybe she’d get the chance to talk to him. Find out who he was and what life was like on Earth these days. Not that he’d remember.

  The memory of their crimes came back first and most vividly. A vague picture of Evan floated across her mind, but she shook it off, not wishing to dwell in the darkness. How did the chemical work in such a way that all she remembered was her crime? Whatever chemists created it back on Earth must have been brilliant.

  She wondered what the new man’s story was. What had he done to be sentenced to death? She peered his way again. Or had he? Had they made a mistake with this one? If they did, they’d dispose of him quick enough.

  During her time here, Nikolina had only heard of two prisoners who’d wound up here wrongly. They were innocent, and the chemical wore off. The keepers lost control of them, and as soon as they discovered it, they knew the truth. Rather than send them back to Earth, back to their old life, which was where they should’ve gone, they simply killed them off. But that was who Nikolina ached to speak to—an innocent prisoner on Reathran—because their memories would return completely, they’d be able to remember things Nikolina couldn’t.

  She closed her eyes one more time, then took a deep breath and returned to her job. She pounded the ground as hard as she could, biting down on her bottom lip… wishing, longing for freedom. Long-gone freedom. She glanced right and down the mountainside where spacecrafts were parked out of view. Every night she’d lay in her cell and dream of getting on one of them and starting it—because in her dream she’d know how to—and then fly out of here. Get back home, back to Earth. She was certain her full memory would come flooding back if she got away from these damn controlling keepers.

  Then reality would smack her in the face, and she’d swallow the dry knot in her throat. She struck harder where she saw a glimmer of memroth, and stole another look at the new man, and again sensed his innocence. Could she be right? She craved a conversation with someone new, someone different, and especially someone innocent. Maybe him, maybe someday.

  It was the first time she’d had anything to look forward to in years.

  ****

  Earth, years earlier

  Only when Ian was back in his log home on Canyon Lake, away from the city and commotion, did he dare use regular “old-fashioned” electricity.

  Ian still had and used normal electricity, but if anyone from The Circle were to ever drop by—which rarely happened, besides Malaki, who didn’t count—Ian could have the memroth working within seconds, and the electrical shut down with no sign of it whatsoever. He figured since he had enough money to buy whatever he wanted, why not at least pay the big bucks to have regular electricity strewn throughout his home in such a way that no one could detect it? The Circle would never know he still used the normal stuff, and as long as electric poles still stood, Ian would take advantage of them. It’d been worth every dime he spent. Especially when his toddler son, Anthony, was here. He did not want Anthony subjected to memroth. Not if Ian could help it.

  After the meeting of The Circle, Ian and Malaki had spent a couple hours in their ch
emistry lab, but they mostly continued their planning. Until Ian felt the need to get out of there, away from the lab, away from headquarters, away from the city.

  Now, he pulled his car up to his gated driveway and opened his window. He stared into the eye detector attached to the gate, and once the laser scanned his retinas, the gate clicked open. He made sure it locked shut once he’d gotten inside. The long driveway wound narrowly through rows of tall trees—pines, birch, cedar, oak.

  Three-quarters of a mile later, his giant log home came into view situated at the top of a hill. He chose to have a smaller yard and more trees and woods. Less lawn to mow. He did enjoy mowing but lacked the time. Behind his house, Canyon Lake glistened in the sunset. Tranquility overcame him every time he was home in the woods away from everyone and everything.

  Once inside, he used the remote control to flick on the lights using electricity. This remote would remain in his pocket until he went to sleep, for the rare occasion someone from The Circle decided to drop in.

  The night was pleasantly warm. He went out onto his deck and turned on the propane grill. While it heated, he pulled a can of Coke out of the fridge, cracked it open, and poured it into a glass. He took out the bacon-wrapped filet mignon he’d picked up on his way home at Joki’s Meat Market. It was perfectly round and succulent. His mouth watered, and his stomach grumbled. He scrubbed a potato and plopped it on the grill.

  He strode back inside to his “ham shack,” the room with all his amateur radios. He flicked the light switch on and plunked at the desk. Cedar paneling covered the wall, with a huge American flag covering one entirely. It was a large space with a pool table and many shelves supporting books, globes, and some of his grandfather’s old hockey memorabilia.

  His amateur radio equipment occupied the desk—an HF transceiver used to transmit and receive high frequency signals, VHF/UHF transceivers, telegraph keys used to transmit Morse code. While this type of communication was old and outdated, it was also very dependable and a great hobby for those who still enjoyed this mode of transmission. Through the years, ham radios had transformed into brilliant high-tech devices. A tower stood in his yard. At the top, multiple antennas with beams and rotors spun in the direction of the signal to radiate the most efficiently.

  He scanned the frequencies to check the band activity level and see where signals were and weren’t coming in from and to hone in on the good ones. He picked up a microphone and held it to his mouth. “E0NQT, this is R0PDDG, are you out there in the mobile yet?”

  “Yeah, R0PDG, this is E0NQT,” Malaki’s voice echoed back to him. “Just heading home, have to stop at the gas station. I thought today went good, our candidate will make it in. 73’s, gotta run, R0PDG, E0NQT, out.”

  “Roger that, we’re on the same page. Hope you don’t buy too many snacks at the store.” Ian chuckled. “We’ll see ya tomorrow. R0PDG out.”

  Ian returned to the deck where he lounged in a recliner facing the lake. The water rippled at a slow pace, glistening in the sun that inched its way down. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

  With Stanton gone, Ian would soon be saying goodbye to this home, this lake, for a long time, maybe forever. His gut switched from grumbling to churning at that thought, but his mind was made up.

  He closed his eyes, the only sounds being a loon singing on and off across the water, along with a few birds chirping now and again. Off in the distance a squirrel chattered, and a conversation he’d had with Shannon a couple years ago invaded his quiet thoughts…

  “I may regret this.” Shannon, a few months pregnant, shrugged. “But I’m wondering about bringing a baby into this world with you, when I know so little about you. I mean, I know you—we’ve been together for a year—but yet I don’t know you. What you do, who you are. You’re so secretive and intense. And you’re gone so much. Is that normal?”

  “It’s normal for what I do, I’m sorry to say.” Pain grew in Ian’s throat. “I don’t like it, and I don’t like hearing this, but y-you’re probably right. You shouldn’t be bringing a baby into this world with me. Not that I want you to give it up, that’s not what I’m saying, but you should move on. Without me.” He dropped his chin to his chest and turned away. “I’ll provide for the baby in every way possible, besides myself.”

  “But I don’t like that either.” Shannon clutched his arm and turned him towards her, her blue eyes shimmered, and her soft, blonde hair flowed down her shoulders. “I want this baby to know you, there’s no doubt about that. What I meant is I don’t know if I, uh, if I—”

  “Want to bring a baby into this world with me. I get it. Believe me I get it.” Ian massaged Shannon’s cheek with his thumb. “And it’s OK. Move on. Without me. Find someone else, Shan, someone who will be there for you all the time. With my job, I don’t meet that qualification, and it’s a big one. And like I said, I’ll provide for you and the baby financially for forever.” Ian’s voice was flat, monotone, and he rubbed the palm of his hand over his aching chest, his throat sore. “However, I hope you find someone who can be a dad to our baby. A real dad. Someone who’ll be there. Present. You know what I mean? Someone who will always be there to take care of you in the way I can’t.”

  A tear dripped down Shannon’s check, and she gripped his hand on her cheek. “But I love you.”

  “And I love you, but we have to do what’s best for the baby now. Our baby.” He put his other hand on her barely swollen abdomen. “This is the most important thing now, and nothing else matters…”

  A white-throated sparrow’s song brought Ian back to the here and now. As much as it had broken his heart, he’d let Shannon go. And he’d let Anthony go. He was a part of Anthony’s life, yes, but he only wanted his child to know him here, at home. And since he wasn’t home that much, it wasn’t very often. Not like how much Ian’s father knew about his own dad, or even how much Ian knew about his grandfather, which was too much. So much that he’d followed directly in his footsteps. But Ian thanked God for Grandfather now. Without him, he and Malaki would have never learned so much about where Ian was headed, and they certainly wouldn’t know about the flag.

  But Ian didn’t want his child knowing these things about him—what he did, where he worked, who he was—and the only way to keep that from happening was to let Shannon go so she could find a new life for herself, and hopefully a new love, someone who would be there for her, someone who could be her helpmate. Ian would fade off into the background.

  He stuck his glass in the built-in cup holder on the arm of his chair and folded his hands across his chest, thoughts of little Anthony toddling near the water’s edge with Ian the last time he was here putting a grin on his face.

  He closed his eyes for a moment, convincing himself he wouldn’t fail. The time was coming, he felt it in his bones. He would get through it. He’d remember who he was, he’d remember their plan, and he’d succeed.

  ****

  Reathran

  Ian’s first night on Reathran was surreal. He lay on his narrow bed, the mattress so thin every protrusion underneath it jabbed him in his back. After a few minutes he sat up again.

  Jack laughed. He lay on his own bed with two pillows propped behind his head. “Don’t worry, Mr. Pristine, it’ll get easier.”

  The black man—who now Ian knew to be Levi—was doing pullups on a makeshift bar.

  “Would you stop calling me Mr. Pristine? I’ve told you a hundred times it’s Ian. Ian.” He clenched his jaw. “And I don’t know how I can ever get used to this place. This is nothing like my bed back home.”

  Jack straightened, and Levi let go of the bar, dropping to the ground.

  “What did you just say?” Jack got out of his bed as if in slow motion and moved toward Ian.

  “What? I just said this is nothing like my bed back home.” Ian pulled the thin blanket off the bed, crumpled it up and tossed it across the room. “And it isn’t.”

  “You remember that?” Levi rubbed his fisted hand in the palm of his o
ther. “You remember what you slept in back on Earth?”

  Ian stared ahead for a moment. “Yeah. So what?”

  “You remember anything else?” Jack sat next to him, his eyes wide.

  Ian thought for a moment. “No, actually I don’t. Why do you suppose I remember my bed of all things?”

  “Probably connected to laying in this bed.” Jack stood and clapped loudly, letting out a low growl. Then he twisted toward Ian again. “And this is your first night here! How could you remember such a thing? I barely remember the kind of bed I slept on back on Earth, and whatever memory I do have took months, even years to come to me, and I’ve been here thirty-six years.”

  Levi put his fisted hands on his hips, staring down at Ian. “What crime did you commit? What got you thrown in the hole, on death row?”

  Ian scratched his cheek. “I – I don’t know. I mean, I know what I was told when I got here—that I murdered some man and his daughter—but I don’t remember anything about it. I don’t remember murdering anyone.”

  Jack put his fingers to his lips and shook his head at Levi.

  Levi seemed to understand Jack’s silent communication, because he returned to the pole and started pulling himself up again, his biceps swelling.

  “What?” Ian looked to both men. “What?”

  Jack motioned “no” to Ian and held a finger up in the air. He opened the top drawer of the built-in dresser and pulled out a wrinkly, dirty sheet of paper and a stubby pencil. He wrote on the paper and held it up for Ian: “Ask me for paper. You’re a writer.”

  Ian raked his fingers through his hair. “Fine,” he whispered, then he raised his voice. “Hey Jack. Could you give me some paper? I – uh, I like to write sometimes, is there any paper on this ridiculous planet?” The words sounded fake and rehearsed.

  “Oh, yeah, we got paper here.” Jack answered and opened up the top drawer again. This time he pulled out a few more pieces of paper. “I got a nice little pencil for ya here, too.” He threw the paper on Ian’s lap along with the pencil.