“No more Hail Marys?” Try as he might, Cody can’t quite keep his shoulders up. They sag and his chin drops.
“Nothing, Cody. I got nothing left. I’ve unloaded everything, tried every trick in the book.”
“So it’s over?”
“I’m sorry, Cody. I should’ve done something different.”
“Come on, Jack. You can’t beat yourself up. You’ve been fighting for me for ten years. Fighting like hell.”
“Yeah, fighting and losing. You should have won, Cody. You don’t deserve to die. You were just a kid who didn’t kill anyone, never pulled a trigger. I let you down, Cody.”
“You did not. You’re a warrior until the bitter end.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Let it go, Jack. I’m at peace and I’m ready to go.”
“You’ve always been brave, Cody. I’ve never had a client so brave.”
“I’ll be all right, Jack. And if there happens to be something in the next act, then I’ll see you on the other side.”
Cody steps closer, reaches through the bars, and puts a hand on Jack’s shoulder. The two men embrace as best they can with the bars between them. They have a long hug and then let go. Finally, Jack steps back and wipes his face. He turns and walks away, and Cody watches him disappear.
He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, then walks over to the television, picks up the remote and turns it on. The governor has the screen. Outside an elaborate office, and with a wall of grim-faced flunkies behind him, he steps to a bank of microphones and, as solemnly as possible, says, “I have just been informed that the Supreme Court has refused to hear the final appeal of Cody Wallace. I have carefully reviewed his request for clemency. The issue of his age is indeed troubling. However, I am much more sympathetic to the victims of this horrible crime, the Baker family, and their great loss. They need our prayers at this hour. They are opposed to clemency. The people of this state have repeatedly said they believe in capital punishment, and it is my solemn duty to uphold the law. Therefore, I am denying the request for clemency. The execution will proceed as scheduled, at ten p.m. this evening.”
He bows his head as if he might start praying himself as he backs away. Reporters instantly start yelling questions, but he is much too burdened to deal with them.
Cody mutes the television and stares at it. Suddenly the screen changes and there’s Jack again, standing somewhere on the prison grounds with a guard on each side. Cody quickly hits the volume.
Jack says to the camera, “Cody was fourteen years old, a child, an orphan, a homeless kid living in the woods, a kid no one wanted. He never pulled a trigger and he didn’t kill anyone. It’s barbaric for this state to treat him like an adult, and it’s immoral to execute him. The system failed Cody at every turn, and now the system will kill him. Congratulations to the God-fearing, gun-loving, law and order die-hards of this miserable state.”
When the news anchor appears, Cody hits the remote and the screen goes blank.
（7）
Marvin pushes a food cart down the darkened hallway. Dinner is usually served at five p.m., lunch at eleven, breakfast at five in the morning. The courts had long ago declared that every man in prison is entitled to 2,200 calories a day, 1,800 for women. It might have been edible in other camps around the prison, but on death row it was an unbearably dreadful menu of powdered food and old vegetables and canned slop served long after the shelf life. The meals often included five or six slices of stale white bread to run the tally up to the magical 2,200 calories and stave off another lawsuit. Cody’s had slightly improved things ten years earlier. Some of the men ignored the food and ate only enough to remain alive. Others got fat off extra white bread tossed up and down the hall. A handful were lucky enough to receive a little cash from home to buy tastier items from the canteen.
“Your last meal, Cody,” Marvin says as he slides a medium-sized frozen pepperoni pizza through the food slot in the door. Cody steps over and takes it. Marvin hands him a tall paper cup with a straw and says, “Your strawberry milkshake.”
Cody smiles and sits on his bunk. He removes a wedge of pizza and takes a bite. “It’s over, Marvin. It’s really gonna happen, isn’t it?”
“Sure looks that way, Cody. I’m real sorry.”
He takes another bite, then a pull on the straw. He looks at Marvin and says, “This is a pretty lousy frozen pizza.”
“What did you expect?”
“I don’t know. I’ve had much better.”