When the second hand had swept around the clock to the appointed hour, the warden nodded to him. “Igor, throw the switch!”
I won’t dwell on the gruesome smoking and jittering blast that surged through Harvey Jekyll’s body. It wasn’t any more horrific than what he had done to his victims. The little bastard smoked, but at least he didn’t dissolve.
When it was over, Jekyll sagged into a lifeless mass in the chair. His eyes were screwed shut, his lips pulled back to expose his teeth in a death grimace. After the physician pronounced him dead, guards unstrapped him from Sparky, Jr., lifted him onto a gurney, and covered his body with a sheet.
Igor came out, grinning with delight and full of manic energy. He pulled out a phone camera and asked to have his picture taken with each of us. We obliged, and Sheyenne requested a copy of the photo so we could hang it on the wall of Chambeaux & Deyer Investigations.
The warden shook our hands. “A job well done. Justice isn’t always easy. Well worth the added cost in this month’s electric bill.”
McGoo clapped me on the shoulder, my damaged one, then apologized, thinking he’d hurt me. I let him believe that. I stood with Robin and Sheyenne, relieved, feeling the tension drain away. We had about five minutes of peace, in which we imagined a silly, happily-ever-after future.
Until Harvey Jekyll’s body rose from the gurney. He sat up from beneath the sheet and pulled it away from his burned head. His eyes were bright and focused. “Well, that was unpleasant.”
We all gaped at him. Statistics can really bite you in the ass. One in seventy-five return as zombies, with the odds favoring suicide or murder victims. Harvey Jekyll had been lucky. We hadn’t.
The warden let out an annoyed sigh.
Robin looked frightened. “We’re arguing the precedents, but the law currently states that even the most heinous criminal can be executed only once.”
“That law needs to be updated,” I growled.
The warden stood in front of Harvey Jekyll, extended his finger in a stern warning. “You’re free to go, Mr. Jekyll. But I never want to see you in here again. I hope you’ve learned your lesson.”
The prison guards went back to the lockers and retrieved a clean set of clothes for Jekyll and handed them to the small, newly undead man. Jekyll scowled down at his hands, flexed his fingers. “You’ve made me an unnatural? This qualifies as cruel and unusual. You’ll be hearing from my attorneys, I assure you.”
Trying to gather his dignity, Harvey Jekyll dressed, glaring at us all the while. His expression held more unspoken words than all of Robin’s legal tomes combined. He left the prison, a free unnatural man.
Jekyll didn’t need to threaten us. We got the message.