William Forstchen - One Second After

“In my office.”

“Go get them.”

He returned with several dozen vials of liquid morphine, containers of other drugs in pill form.

“Tom, just look on the containers,” Ira said. “‘Miller’s Nursing Home,’ followed by a code number, should be on them. All controlled substances, when shipped, have tracking numbers and delivery ID numbers,” and she repeated the coding.

“The same,” Tom replied.

“John, would you witness to that?”

John looked over with surprise at Charlie, as if being dragged in. But the memory of the suffering in the nursing home filled him. Kate swore John in, he went over, picked up a container.

“It says: ‘Miller’s Nursing Home.’”

“Tom, you next,” Charlie said.

Sworn in, Tom repeated his testimony as well.

Finished, he stepped back around behind the two.

“You men have anything to say?” Charlie asked.

“I want a fucking lawyer!” Larry shouted.

“Do you have anything to say?” Charlie repeated.

“Yeah, I sure as hell do; give me the damn Bible,” Bruce said.

Charlie reddened, looking over at Kate.

“The Holy Bible please,” she said slowly, forcefully.

Larry said nothing.

“I want the Holy Bible please,” Bruce said.

Charlie picked it up, walked it down the length of the table, and put it down in front of Bruce, who was then sworn in. “Tell us your story, Bruce.”

For the next five minutes he rambled on. He had nothing to do with it, Larry just coming in with the drugs. Who the second guy was, Bruce didn’t know. He and Larry had divided the loot.

John watched Bruce carefully. The man, still not much more than a boy actually, maybe twenty-one or -two, was obviously terrified. And, as well, John could sense Bruce was lying. All the years as a prof had sharpened his bullshit detector, as he called it.

Bruce finally fell silent.

“Ira?” Charlie asked. “How much morphine in liquid form was taken?”

“We keep individual vials for each patient using it, since dosage and strength vary. I think about forty or so.”

“We confiscated thirty-two,” Tom interjected.

“Not much of a cut between your friend here and his buddy,” Charlie said. “You mean the other guy walked off with eight vials and Larry kept over thirty?”

“Yeah, that must have been it. No one argues with Larry.”

“Or eight vials would be one hell of a party,” Tom interjected. “It’s a wonder they didn’t kill themselves.”

“You bastards.” It was Ira, her voice breaking. “I got seven patients dying of cancer. Two are dead now, thank God, but the others are in agony and all I have for them is what was in their daily trays and then aspirin. I hope they shoot both of you.”

She fell silent, eyes burning with rage.

“Larry?” Charlie said, motioning to the Bible.

“Why bother?”

Charlie nodded and then looked back at John.

“John, I want to keep this formal. I’m appointing you to speak on behalf of these two men.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“My father-in-law is tied into this.”

“John, just do me the favor.”

“Go get Norm Schaich; he’s a lawyer. He can do this better than me.”

“Norm’s house is miles from here.”

“I can drive it.”

“John, I want this done now.”

“I want a fucking lawyer,” Larry stated yet again. “Yeah, go get Norm.”

John looked at him, then to Bruce and over to Ira, and then out through the half-closed blinds to the crowd gathered outside. John finally nodded and stood up.

“I’ll say this for them. The world we knew, maybe it’s finished, finished forever. Maybe not, but I doubt that. All that holds us together now are the things we believed in, the traditions of who we were, who we still want to be.

“Charlie, I guess you’ll make the decision. Guide yourself with that thought, of what this country is supposed to be, even in these dark times. I know what you are thinking. I know what our neighbors outside are thinking. But whatever your decision, know it is a foundation point for what follows, but if we make a mistake here, Charlie, then we’ve lost that foundation….” He paused. “We are no longer Americans.”

He stepped back to the corner of the room.

Charlie stood silent, head lowered. Bruce started to cry.

Charlie finally raised his head.

“I dread this,” he said quietly. “I never thought I would ever do something like this. But I must think of the community.”

He stepped to the center of the room, behind the chair Kate was sitting in.

“Larry, Bruce—” he hesitated, “Randall and Wilson,” Tom interjected.

“Larry Randall and Bruce Wilson,” Charlie continued, “I sentence you to death by firing squad, for the crime of looting precious medical supplies, not only from this community, but from a facility where people were in desperate need of those supplies to ease their final pain. Execution to be carried out immediately.”

“You bastard,” Larry hissed.

“Son, you are about to go before God; I’m giving you ten minutes to make your peace. Someone go find a minister for them,” Charlie said, and walked out.

John followed him as he went into his office and Charlie did not object as John closed the door. He pulled out the last cigarette in his pocket and lit it. Charlie looked at it longingly for a few seconds and John was ready to offer it over, but Charlie then shook his head.

“Did I do the right thing, John? Frankly, I’m so damn mad at those two animals, especially that Larry, that I’d do it myself without hesitation. But still, did I do the right thing?”

John sat down and didn’t speak for a moment. He was torn as well. Again memory of his own temptation with Liz at the pharmacy, to snatch the medicine he needed for Jennifer.

“John, it’s like we’re back a hundred and fifty years. The Wild West. I kept thinking of that movie, Oxbow Incident. Remember they hang three guys in that movie but then find out they’re innocent.”

“Yeah, same thought here. It was just on TV last week. One of Henry Fonda’s best.”

“A week ago,” Charlie sighed. “Just that short a time?”

“They are not innocent, though,” John said.

“But still. A week ago we didn’t kill screwed-up punks for stealing drugs. That Bruce kid, right guidance, he might have straightened out.” John shook his head.

“Look, Charlie, might have beens are finished. Charlie, we got six thousand, maybe seven thousand people in this town now. How much food? How much medicine? Water still works for downtown, as long as the pipe to the reservoir holds, but up on the sides of the hills we’re out. Charlie, we don’t keep order, in a month people will be killing each other for a bag of chips.”

John felt the heat of the cigarette burning his fingers and he looked around, then dropped it into an empty coffee cup. “Or a pack of smokes. I’m sorry for that one, boy, but you did the right thing.

“Just keep in mind what I said on their behalf back in there.”

Charlie nodded.

There was a knock on the door; it was Tom and Kate. Charlie motioned them in.

“Reverend Black is in there with them. Time is just about up,” Tom said. “Tom, you will not do the execution,” John said. Tom looked over at him.

“You are the police authority in this town. If someone must do the execution, it cannot be you or any other officer or official of this town. That terrible task has always been kept separate from the hands of those out in the field who directly enforce the law. If not, well…” He thought of Stalin, of the Gestapo. “It has to be someone else.”

Tom nodded, and John was glad to see that in spite of his angry talk earlier, Tom was relieved.