Riven - Jerry B. Jenkins [212]
Normally when Thomas happened to be on the Row this early in the morning, every cell TV was tuned to the Today show. But now the few sets already on showed a silent, still view of the crude cross lying on the floor of the gas chamber. It reminded Thomas of C-SPAN coverage when a camera was just set in place and left on for the duration of whatever they were covering. This was the feed that would encircle the globe for the next several hours.
Thomas found Brady putting the last of his personal effects into a cardboard box on his table. He looked preoccupied and yet relieved to see the chaplain.
“You ready?” Thomas said.
“Ready as I’ll ever be. Doc’s supposed to check me over in a couple of minutes; then it’s the whole searching and cuffing thing, then heading out.”
Thomas turned to peer into the observation booth. A supervisor nodded from the other side of the glass. “Can I see you?” Thomas mouthed.
The intercom crackled. “C’mon in, Reverend.”
The door was open by the time he got there and Thomas stepped inside. “Tell me the procedure.”
“Officers will strip-search him, then cuff and manacle him before the doc checks him over.”
“All right, I want that not to happen.”
“But we got to go by the book today, sir—”
“Don’t strip-search this man today, and don’t restrain him either. You know as well as I do he’s no risk. I’ll be right there the whole time, and you can blame it all on me.”
“Reverend, I don’t think you’re authorized to override protocol—”
“I’m asking you man-to-man. And I want to be in his cell when the doctor is.”
“I can’t let—”
“Yes, you can. Now you’ve been here through all this, and you know what Darby’s meant to the Row. Throw him a bone, man.”
The supervisor pressed his lips together and looked past Thomas to where the doctor had arrived, accompanied by an officer. “All right, go ahead.”
“Thank you.”
“Just hurry.”
Thomas met the doctor in front of Brady’s cell, and they shook hands.
Over the intercom, the supervisor said, “Darby, to your cot please. I’m tripping the release here, officers. Admit both the chaplain and the doctor. No search, no restrains, but secure the door.”
The officers looked surprised and hesitant, but the order had been clear. Seconds later, the three men were locked in Brady’s cell.
The doctor had Brady sit at his table while he checked his pulse and blood pressure. “Both elevated,” he said softly, scribbling.
“So I should take it easy today?” Brady said.
The doctor looked like he didn’t know how to react. “I’ll see you in the chamber, son. This is an amazing thing you’re doing.”
The doctor was let out and the door thrice locked again. Thomas was aware that all the officers in the observation unit had emerged, and all but the two officers stationed at Brady’s cell were moving down the corridor away from the pod. What was going on?
Brady stood awkwardly and reached for Thomas. They embraced, and the young man buried his face in the chaplain’s shoulder. “Pray for me,” he said.
Thomas found his voice quavery. “Lord, thank You for Your servant and for what You have prompted him to do. And thank You for the impact he’s already had. We know justice will be served today, but we pray Your greater purpose will be served too and that many will come to know You in deeper ways because of what they see. And thank You for what Brady has meant to me. In Jesus’ name.”
“Guess you heard they denied my request for the crown of thorns and someone to pierce me with the spear.”
“No. Really?”
“Just got word this morning.”
“Believe me, son,” Thomas said, “it will be easy enough for everyone to imagine.”
“I just wish the warden would have allowed it,” Brady said. “The thorns were as much a part of the crucifixion as anything else. They weakened Him, crippled Him. And the fact is, His side was riven.”
Thomas nodded to the supervisor, who instructed the officers to unlock Brady’s cell. “No search. No restraints.”
As they