Blood . Fire. Death. Mutilation. Piercing screams of soldiers with limbs blown off. The eyes of the recently dead, bulging, staring in disbelief. Vermin-ravaged corpses, insects crawling in and out of their twisted mouths. Blood erupting from the bodies of women and children as they tried in vain to escape the deluge of gunfire. The dance of the refugees as they smelled their own flesh burn, as the napalm flames consumed their skin, their bones, their souls. Agony stored for later years as villagers watched their wives and mothers raped, beaten, and left as if dead, as if never alive. The sizzle of hot pokers on flesh, or in eyeballs, or thrust deep into open wounds. Tanks, driving over the bodies of children that squelched and cracked and were crushed like eggshells ...
And in all the conflagration, wading through the carnage with a necklace of ears, eyes and fingers, and the smell of charred bodies as his perfume, his face bore no emotion as he killed and killed and killed -
Teacher awoke from his nightmare, his heart pumping painfully in his chest, his breathing spasmodic, and his body shaking. He had been strapped into an electric chair. For a moment, he struggled. And then somewhere in the room a circuit was activated, a small generator kicked in with a busy hum, followed by a surge of energy. Teacher braced himself--
The doors to the execution chamber slid open, buzzed closed behind the five men in military uniform who had entered the room. One of them approached Teacher, removing large dark round sunglasses from a wrinkled pale face. He folded them, tucked them into a khaki breast pocket, shaking his head ” Black Knight. What a soldier. What a waste,” the man said before adding “ Control room: This is Cleyff. Throw the switch. And this time make sure he’s dead. You know how hard these guys are to kill.”
As tertiary generators crackled into action, Teacher noticed his own reflection in the two-way mirror of the control room. For a moment he wondered just who he was looking at. He didn't know this person at all. No memories. Nothing. And then the current came. One hundred amperes, and urine dribbled shamefully down his leg. Two hundred amps, and he could smell the hair on his body burning.
Three hundred amps, and Teacher screamed from the depth of his being.
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