TERRE HAUTE, Ind. (AP) — With his request for a stay of execution denied, Timothy McVeigh now sits alone in an 8-by-10 cell on federal death row, waiting.

He waits for guards to escort him off the row in shackles and take him to the windowless death house 500 yards away. He waits for his last meal, his last words, his last breath.

Outside the white steel walls and polished hallways of the unit that has housed McVeigh and the 19 other federal death row inmates since July 1999, the city of Terre Haute waits as well. It waits for the hype to end, for the Oklahoma City bomber to die, for the national spotlight to move on.

"No more delays," cried Anne Campbell, a downtown coffee shop regular vigorously stirring the settled sugar in her iced tea. "I will just be glad when it's over, because it's giving this town a bad rap. It's not our fault that we have a federal prison here."

Few outside Indiana knew about the prison until the death chamber was built and McVeigh arrived, taking his place in line as the first federal prisoner to be executed since 1963. Now, more than 1,000 journalists will descend on this western Indiana city, and the eyes of the world will watch McVeigh's final hours down to his execution at 7 a.m. Monday.

As early as Friday, the convicted bomber will be transferred from death row to his 9-by-14 holding cell in the execution facility. He'll be allowed to bring only a few items, including five unframed photographs and a paperback book.

His cell will contain a narrow bed mounted to the wall, a small metal table and a toilet. A guard will keep watch through a large cell window 24 hours a day.

At 7 a.m. Sunday, McVeigh will no longer be allowed to make personal calls. His only contact will be with his attorneys.

On the prison grounds outside, journalists will be directed into an area sectioned off with orange plastic fencing.

Across the street, Raoul David will keep his food market running around the clock, offering up what he calls a "McVeigh Special": shish-ka-bobs marinated in soy sauce.

"This'll mean big business," he said.

At 12:01 a.m. Monday, seven hours before the execution, death penalty advocates and protesters will be bused to the prison grounds, kept separate but allowed to voice their opinions. By mid-morning the trimmed green field in front of the fenced-in prison should be buzzing with activity.

McVeigh will see none of it.

If he sleeps at all, he'll be woken up well before the execution and instructed to change into prison-issue white briefs, khaki trousers, a white T-shirt, socks and slip-on shoes.

If he wants it, McVeigh will be allowed to take a sedative to calm his nerves.

Following a carefully timed and practiced routine, guards will come to McVeigh's holding cell, shackle him by the arms and legs and lead him a short distance to the death chamber, right in the center of the building.

He'll enter a room with a white-and-gray tile floor and dark curtains pulled across windows on three of the four walls. In the middle of the room is a T-shaped brown, padded gurney standing at a slight angle.

At the foot of the gurney, mounted on the green-tile wall, is a black-and-white clock that will tick off the minutes to 7 a.m., when the execution is to start, then register McVeigh's time of death.

Once strapped down, the curtains will be pulled to reveal 10 media witnesses, 10 witnesses who are either survivors of the bombing or family members of a victim, and five witnesses McVeigh selected. About 300 survivors of the 1995 federal building bombing and relatives of the 168 victims will watch by closed-circuit television under tight security in Oklahoma City.

The condemned bomber will have an opportunity to say his final words, phones will be checked for any last minute stays, and then, with a nod from U.S. Marshal Frank Anderson, the lethal chemicals will begin flowing into McVeigh's veins.

Prison officials say it should take about seven minutes before he is dead.

"This will be one of the last chapters in the Timothy McVeigh saga," said bombing survivor Paul Heath, who attended the court hearing Wednesday in which U.S. District Judge Richard Matsch refused to further delay McVeigh's execution.

"I hope for this survivor, from now on it will not be Timothy McVeigh. It will be, 'Timothy Who?"'

Residents of Terre Haute also hope the spotlight quickly fades from their city so it can become known for more than the death place of the Oklahoma City bomber.

"I think the community is ready for it to be over," said Sonja Bolinger, slowly shaking her head. "Just the whole thing saddens me."