One Life So Others May Live

Prompt: Write a story that includes the words “déjà vu” or “that didn’t happen.”

One Life So Others May Live

An obnoxiously loud alarm sounded jarring me from a troubled night of dreams. The ringing only lasted a few seconds but the blood curdling screams from my dreams continued to reverberate in my head long afterwards. Despite the horror resonating in my mind, I pulled myself up off the steel bed frame heading toward the iron bar gate. Magically it opened on its own as though some distant force was controlling it. I quickly joined the zombie walk as together a line of deadpan souls headed to the feeding center for early morning nourishment.

Mechanically, we all sat in our preassigned seats. No one had anything to say. No one dared to look at anyone else and certainly not directly into their eyes. One by one as their numbers were being called, each soul took their turn getting a plate of nondescript sustenance. Six hundred sixty-six was the next number. It was my number. I was handed the morning’s offering along with a libation. Thick red, green and brown fluids congealed on my plate. I returned to my seat trying not to gag as I looked at the mass of the unknown. I imagined I was eating an omelet filled with healthy vegetables. But the sensation quickly evaporated once I put a small morsel into my mouth and swallowed. I had all I could do not to purge it from my stomach. I decided to drink the liquid instead. It had the texture and taste of curdled milk. I figured I would just have to wait until the evening’s specialty.

Another obnoxiously loud alarm signaled the end of the feasting period. It was time to head back to my concrete cage. I followed the zombie procession back to my cozy domicile. I entered in and the iron bar door again magically shut itself. I had nothing planned for the day because I had no diversions. My cell was empty; my life was empty as well.

I sat day after day either sleeping or staring off into space. An occasional insect would appear from the ventilation duct situated on the nine-foot ceiling. I would intently watch it until it made its way back into the vent. I surmised that it was bored with my surroundings as much as I was. I was so convinced that either God had forgotten about us zombies or I was really in hell because I was marked by the devil’s number 666. I think the prison chaplain saw that number invisibly emblazoned on my forehead. He made occasional visits to talk to me about repentance and eternal life. I wasn’t buying any of what he said. He talked about a man who was sentenced to die, then was murdered by being strung onto a wooden cross. The crazy part was He was buried and in three days rose from the dead.

I mocked the chaplain.” It didn’t happen. No mortal man could have that power to overcome death. Why would anyone believe this stuff? Nevertheless, I appreciated the rare moment to have human contact outside the dead zone of zombies.

The nuisance alarm sounded for the call to the evening grub fest. The zombie walk began again. No talking, no staring, no interaction. Nothing has changed over the last twenty years as I await my demise. My life has become magnified by monotony and hopelessness. Life on death row is no life at all, especially before the final curtain descends. I have had no interruptions, no visitations over these twenty years. Any appeals to overturn or commute my sentence had been exhausted long before I was moved to Death Row at the penitentiary.

It has been a waiting game for the setting of my execution date. A six year and counting waiting game since the appeal process was exhausted. Each day is eerily similar to the last. One would call it déjà vu. Perhaps you may recall the movie “Ground Hog Day”. In the movie life repeats itself over and over ad nauseam until the main character of the story gets his life right. The feeling of déjà vu never seems to vanish. The zombie walks; the emptiness I feel and my night terrors playing over and over and over again. I have had no chance to get my life back on track. Any hope disintegrated after my final appeal was turned down six years ago. I acquiesced to my inevitable fate and waited for my death.

Time has changed my life. I live life like an automaton. I have become a living, breathing apocalyptic zombie living with other zombies on Death Row. But then there was a flicker, a small spark. There was an interruption in my schedule the following day. Had the cycle of repetitive life been broken?

The warden actually came to my cell dragging the chaplain behind him. Had I known about his pending visit I would have had the prison commissary prepare some appetizers and drinks. The iron bar door opened without the fanfare of blaring alarms. It must have been casual day at the office because the warden was wearing a t-shirt and jeans. The chaplain had a look of concern on his face. Had the state finally set a date for my execution?

“Hello William. I have an update on your situation.”

I thought to myself the nerve of him. This guy is so nonchalant about my miserable life. His audacity annoyed the living hell out of me when he addressed me by my first name.

He continued. “You have an opportunity to do a good thing in your life now. One would think nothing could undo the savagery when you brutally murdered five people. But now the state developed a program. It has authorized a way that you can physically repay society instead of by forced execution. You have an opportunity to exonerate yourself somewhat from those horrendous deeds. Nonetheless, it will come at a great cost to you.”

I looked squarely into the warden’s eyes asking, “I have a potential reprieve? I may not have to die?”

The warden without hesitating said, “Yes. But the cost will be high, and you could conceivably still die.”

I responded, “So tell me what I must do.”

The warden said “You must surrender yourself. In other words, you must offer yourself up to others to let them live. You have an opportunity to give them life now. There are five people who need various organ transplants in a matter of days. You need to become an organ donor of sorts.”

“What do you mean by ‘of sorts”, I asked with frustration registering in my voice.

The warden proceeded saying, “You will donate some of your vital organs to donors on an urgent, emergency list.

The warden replied, “The last person on the list will need your heart. However, it is quite possible that the recipient of your heart may not live long enough to get to surgery. Being on Death Row confirms that your death is eminent. It is possible you could survive the transplant ordeal and be freed from Death Row. Understand though that your life may be impaired because you will lose most of your liver, your spleen, one lung, and one kidney. Plus, your corneas will be taken. You would become blind.”

William dejectedly said, “The evidence of my crimes surely points to my guilt. My actions in life have inflicted serious harm and destruction to the families and loved ones I had so callously murdered. I am sorry for them. I have served twenty years of my life as a punishment in a zombie wasteland. Why should I be tortured and left to die for someone I have never met, nor will I ever meet? There is no guarantee their lives will improve from the transplants. Will they even know about me? Would they even want the organs of a serial murderer? I am afraid to die in my sin and guilt. I would be the first person to ever do something like this.”

The chaplain broke his silence. “No William, you are not the first person to offer his life up to save others. Remember the Jesus I spoke to you about? In His innocence He was crucified. He died and was buried. He did this for the sins of all mankind including yours and mine. He offered His life to save many who believe in Him. I repeat He was an innocent man. You are not. This Jesus, however, accepts your sincere regret and repenting of your evilness perpetrated against others. He forgives now. Will you accept His forgiveness? What will you do now, William?”

“For when we were still without strength, in due time Christ died for the ungodly. For scarcely for a righteous man will one die; yet perhaps for a good man someone would even dare to die. But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” (Romans 5: 6-8, NKJV)

“By this we know love, because He laid down His life for us. And we also ought to lay down our lives for the brethren.” (1 John 3:16, NKJV)

-END-

NKJV=New King James Version

Author: Peter Gautchier

Acknowledgement: Reedsyprompts.com

“For whoever desires to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for My sake will save it.”

(Luke 9:24, NKJV)