----------------------------- ------------------------------ ----------
-earlier that day
"Prisoner number 54789 step into the chamber"
...metallic click, recoil, thud....
The sounds of gunshots clapped in my head like the hands of my father over my ears as a young man. In my line of work you get used to the sounds of screaming, the thud of bodies falling. Even the scratchy sandpaper way that feet being dragged over a concrete floor seems to resonate in the room makes me feel right at home. It used to be so simple, come to work, suit up, clean gun, aim, fire, repeat.
Maybe it was the mix in my morning emotion treatment, maybe the sun was just a little bit brighter this morning when I woke up, but something told me that today my routine would become my enemy. I hopped in my transport and said what I had said a thousand times before "work please", but today there was a feeling that crept into my soul that had never reared its head before, dread.
Today something was different.
I saw prisoner #54850 again today as I slid my pass card through the slot on my way into the first set of gates. Standing by the razorwire fence she was so beautiful. Lately I had found myself looking past the dirt on her face and the dried blood under her fingernails. I could see the angel beneath the surface innocent and nervous for the future. As the red swinging lights from the lookout towers flashed over her face I fell in love, not only with her image, but her overwhelming innocence.
Innocence? What innocence? "She's in this prison for a reason" I tell myself. My mind being overridden by the legions mantra repeated in my brain, engrained there since childhood.
"Those that oppose, to the heavens go."
"Those that oppose, to the heavens go."
I try to convince myself that my instincts are wrong, knowing that my thoughts are traitorous. I know the punishment for even considering such a thing would mean my life would be dispatched by someone like me.
I should know better.
I have dispensed countless lives for getting involved with those deemed "traitors."
I should know better.
Today I let a small inkling of emotion cloud my better judgment, and I fear that I have slid down into a well I may never climb to the top of again. I had sexually exploited the innocence of those banished to this facility before. My comrades and I lovingly called it one of the "perks" of having a government job. But I found myself dreaming of an actual life with her high above in the mountain ranges. Away from this place where all was grey and seething with drab nothingness. She could help me clean my gun; I could help her sweep the floor. We could share bits of ourselves with each other. It used to be called love.
"Prisoner number 54790 step into the chamber"
...metallic click, recoil, thud....
I look at the fellow assassin next to me, as I have hundreds of times before, the grey slicker outfit stained ugly like a mechanic whose hand you don't want to shake because you know that he will never be clean enough. I'm looking through the sights on my pistol and I peer to the right.
"have you ever had a doubt at all?" I said quietly, knowing that the walls have ears.
"Doubt? There is no doubt, when I look through these sights there's two people I recognize, the conquered and the one that's holding the gun at the next in line, and I'm glad that I can be the one that dispenses of this trash." He said matter of factly.
A voice booms from above from the tinny loudspeaker "prisoner number 54791 step into the chamber"
My partner closes one eye almost winking at the next victim in line...
(to be continued)
rating: 15
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