Harvey

Harvey is not an old man, but certainly past his prime. The salt beginning to show through his wiry hair and scraggly beard, he is a man who has seen enough time to know that it is not guaranteed for any man, not even himself. The deep lines of his harsh, sun-roughened face tell the tale of a man who has weathered more than a few storms, his sturdy, steady hands speak to his focus...his direction. He knows where he is going, and there is no sense in trying to steer clear of the storm ahead - not when he has survived so many already.

His expressionless eyes stare blindly into the faded grey cement wall that has kept him from freedom for the last nine years. He knows every crack, every imperfection. The water stain at the top where the wall meets the ceiling reminds him of the faces of the people whose lives have passed through those steady hands that now rest on his knees fourteen hours out of every twenty four. Every day, the same stain. Every day, another face. None of them sparks an ounce of pity or remorse. Each person is responsible for his own life, and to allow another man to take that life shows weakness, an undeserved chance to continue breathing.

Now his life is in the hands of others. Waiting patiently for his final dusk when hydrogen cyanide replaces his oxygen, and his lungs burn as his mind struggles to hold onto a cold and merciless existence, Harvey sits on his cot and stares. His memories hold all the emotional impact of soap opera rerun, looping through his imagination as he ponders all the episodes he has yet to shoot.

The chamber won't stop him. The carbonized steel bars and electronically seald door won't stop him - not when his mind is free to kill, and not when there are more memories of those he left alive than those he killed. The stain on the wall cries for mercy, but Harvey grants as much as he expects, which is to say, none at all. The face pleads, and the sharp clang of the guard's carbon fiber baton echoes his response.

Lights out, Harv, the middle-aged guard announces. You can be catatonic again tomorrow.

Harvey never blinks in the presence of others. There is too much to discover on the faces of others, too many stories to be read in their eyes. The baton pounds on the bars again, the ringing falling flat in Harvey's ears.

Let's go, Harvey! Time for your beauty rest. You have a date with destiny tomorrow.

Destiny? My day of reckoning is simply a matter of bad timing. No more appeals. No more waiting. Running low on time. He shifts his body in one piece, lifts his feet onto the cot and stares through the guard.

That's right, you sick fuck. You're all out of time. The dimwitted man smirks as cat would at a cornered mouse, claw pinning the prey's tail to the ground. He has watched over Harvey for nine long years, and the execution is now close at hand. The cat is about to be fed, but there is still life in this rodent.

Harvey fixes his gaze onto the uniformed man, deconstructing the guard's consciousness with a dark, sinister grin. Not, yet, I'm not, Harvey's voice broken by years of silence.

The guard's eyes smolder with suspicion. Harvey is right. The world is ending, and there is nothing anyone can do to stop it. God is sending his only son to reclaim the souls of the dead, and Harvey is still alive. He's not going anywhere - not yet.

We'll see, Harv, the guard tries to choke down his own saliva. We'll see who goes first.

Harvey walks toward the guard and leans on the bars of the cell door.

Back it up, old man! He reaches for his gun.

Harvey grips the bars and begins shaking them, and his timing could not have been more precise. As the guard draws his sidearm, the lights begin to flicker. A loud electromagnetic hum grows more intense throughout the building. Light bulbs begin to explode down the hall. Harvey holds firm the bars, throwing himself left and right. The guard holds aim as his eyes scan the ceiling and halls for the source of the surge.

The humming turns to a deep, whirling drone that multiplies on its own reverberation, the higher pitches counting down the imminent explosion, knocking out the power to the entire prison for a brief moment before the generators automatically activated. During this minuscule lapse in time, events transpired, which allowed Harvey to walk out of the prison ahead of a trail of seven dead men and women.

First, Harvey pulled on an electronically locked door that had no electricity flowing through the mechanism.

Second, the sound of the explosion startled the guard so badly that he dropped the gun as he instinctively ducked for cover. Unfortunately for his personal safety, his instincts should have told him to grip the handle more tightly.

Harvey steps through the door and overpowers the guard in a savage choke hold, the guard's arm locked high under Harvey's grip, wrist clasped in hand pulling the guard's chin high to the side as the helpless man gags for air, digging the heels of is rubber-soled into the slick cement floor, hopelessly searching for leverage.

As he slips into the unconsciousness that precedes death, Harvey scolds him one last time. This isn't destiny, son, just good timing.

*updated 5-30-2008 at 3:30 pm for later reposting*