Three Strikes You're Out

Put aside your political differences, this book is not about that. Both sides lost. The year is 2008 and the United States as well as most of the countries has undergone a radical change. The new government in the United States has declared a Three Strikes You're Out Program. With the new government there is no more need for programs like food stamps, welfare, Medicare or the penal system. Over population is no longer a problem. Long gone are the liberal and conservative parties of old, a new breed rules the country today. When the American people start to question and emotions surface, the country wakes up and looks about in horror at what they’ve done.

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Once showered and in their shrouds they were taken to the mess hall where they were fed a last meal. The cook, a guy named Larry Jacobs, had lost heart cooking for these people. He knew what was going on and they never ate the food, they only sat and stared off into space. A few of them cried. He d never seen anything so pitiful. Larry s big crime that landed him here was driving without tags. He d moved an old car from his mother s house over to his so he could work on it and try to sell it for her. He got stopped and he d been in jail ever since. Going on three years now. They told him he d stay here, that this was his new home he d better get use to it. He was with Jeff and the other prisoners here; he d do anything to overthrow this new government. They all waited patiently for the right time to come, but until then they d have to make their time and do the devil s bidding. Sitting behind his workstation he watched the new death row inmates and said prayers for them. He wanted so badly to tell them they d be okay but he knew better. Anything could happen now. They could get a last minute inspection and have to carry out the death order which in all it s horror had happened too many times. "Okay, meal time s over. You need to follow me." Lloyd stood at the door to the mess hall and motioned for the prisoners to follow him out. They obeyed. As they were making their way down the corridor, a group of men in dark green uniforms joined them. Inspectors. Lloyd paled when he saw them and hoped they didn t notice. One of them he didn t know which one said in a cold detached manner "Just carry on, we re here to watch." Lloyd led his group of sixteen down the passageway and to the medical center. The inspectors followed them like a black cloud of death. Jeff was already there waiting and when Lloyd walked in he made eye movements at him to alert him of the trouble. Jeff knew right away something was wrong and today they d be forced to murder again. He d been here several years now. He remembered when the killing first started. They just did it. No emotions. The inmates were brought in calm as could be, even the little kids, they d climb up on the gurneys and lay there waiting for death. They didn t have many kids anymore they d already killed them all. The ones with the handicaps. Then about a year ago folks started to feel again. Not everybody but some. It was like waking up and knowing you did something awful while you were asleep. Like blackouts he used to get when he drank too much and couldn t for the life of him remember a part of the night before. Instead there was a black void where the memory should be and the guilt he would be feeling kept shouting at him. What have you done! You should be ashamed! He inhaled deeply, said a silent pray for forgiveness and began filling syringes with the deadly mix. They didn t have the elaborate setup the prisons used to have for lethal injections; they used the same method most veterinarians used, a syringe with strong enough sedatives to stop the heart. It was cheaper that way. He always used a little more to make sure they died quickly. He had a young boy linger one time and the inspector took his gun and shot him in the head. Jeff looked at some of the faces in the group. These were over-eaters. When they came to this room they all looked the same: the old, the disabled, the smokers, the over-eaters, the drinkers, the druggers and now the over-spenders and gamblers were to come. Just plain old Americans, every one of them.

About the Author

S.S.Kingsolver, lives in North Georgia with husband Glenn Kingsolver, retired rock and roll musician. They share their home with many critters including a Pot Belly Pig named Bill. When she’s not tending the land and critters she’s at the keyboard working on her latest novel STONES.

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