One Thousand Miles Per Hour

I am someone who is always very careful. Since the day I was born nothing I had ever done wasn't methodically thought out or done without the utmost extreme caution. So the day I was selected to go to the moon I had failed. Or something was very wrong. Let me go back and explain.

Since the last moon launch in 1972, the people decided that they no longer saw the point in continuing to take these trips to the moon, so they refused to pay for any funding. About twenty years later a government association was hell-bent on the idea that it was detrimental to keep exploring the big rock so they came up with the money. No one knows why and supposedly they will only tell you when you are chosen to be the next one in the rocket. I've heard a lot of theories: Aliens, search for the next planet to hold human life when Earth finally caves in, or frankly, they just find it funny to shoot someone up there and think to themselves "Well they're not coming back, let's do it again."

Regardless of what the reason was its a death sentence, they picked up enough money to do this once a year but not enough to bring anyone back. Knowing that I swore I would do anything and everything I could so I would never be picked. Yes in a way I would be "serving my country" in some weird way I guess but who wants to die like that. Alone, probably under mysterious circumstances, and there is no way of getting any help. I mean think about it, if anyone who they sent up there lasted that long why would they keep sending people year after year. So I have lived my life as off the grid as I possibly could in a community with a lot of like-minded people. Most also want to avoid going for the same reason as me, some actually wouldn't mind going but it's not their preference and they don't believe that anyone who is deathly afraid of going up there should be forced to. Either way, we always kept moving, kept each other safe. In many ways, we kind of just hung out among the local homeless people wherever we landed. They didn't care who we were or why we even existed, some of them had their own reasons for being where they were.

At this time I was twenty-two years old, female, about average build. Long curly hair, brown eyes, freckles, and great cheekbones as I'm told now and then. I always sort of felt like a nobody, even though when attending school I was constantly told I could be someone great one day. So it was easy to blend in the background even with the occasional looks I may get from those who thought I was "model material", yeah right. Anyway, for a time, I thought about throwing away my careful efforts of being anyone's center of attention and becoming an actress. I was fascinated by all the characters actors could play on television, one person one day and a completely different person the next. But that all ended when my older sister was chosen.

She was practically my best friend my entire life, I could never have imagined my life without her. Then one day she collapsed while she was at work and diagnosed with lung cancer. Exactly one year later she was chosen. My theory is they pick people who probably don't have a lot of life left and that they should be honored to have one last grand adventure before they die a lonely death. Thing is if that's the case why did they pick me?

That I know of I am perfectly healthy, I mean I haven't been to a doctor in years, but many people in our little group still have money kept aside so we have means of getting things or having access to things to maintain a healthy lifestyle. Well, as healthy a lifestyle someone can have when living on the streets a majority of the time. Everything was obviously in cash though, that's how I found out.

I went to a corner store one day on 56th street in Manhattan New York to buy some snacks, I have such a sweet tooth. Anyway, I had gone in, picked up a candy bar, some chips, and a package of cake and when I go to pay for it all I see my picture on the tv monitor above the store clerk's head. I was all over it, saying how I was the lucky chosen one this year and that I please go the address listed, somewhere in Florida. If not present within two days I would be brought by force. I just stood there in shock, absolutely paralyzed in fear. Then I just bolted. I ran as fast and as far as I could in whatever direction seemed right. That was three years ago.

Now you may be thinking, there is no way I could have hidden from anyone who would turn me in for that long. But I did, don't know how but I did. God knows there were probably thousands of people on the lookout for me but by some miracle, I was able to evade them. That is until about two days ago.

I made the mistake of thinking that being able to escape the eyes of the whole world for so long made me superhuman, so I decided it would be a good idea to jump a building. Stupid idea, believe me I know but I figured if there ever came a close call where I had to do it to get away from the cops or something I should practice. What an idiot. I broke my leg. I stupidly broke my leg and had no knowledge whatsoever of how to take care of it. When the fall happened someone heard not only the fall but also my very loud painful screaming and rushed out to my unfortunate rescue. I was rushed to the nearest local hospital and the second I got there everyone knew who I was. It probably took about thirty seconds of anyone seeing me until someone called law enforcement. Once the cops showed up they handcuffed me to the bed and had me monitored by security 24/7, even in surgery.

All I could think was it was over, the amount of security and surveillance I am bound to be under until they put me on the last flight I'll ever take there is no way I'll ever be able to escape. It's not like I'm Denzel Washington or Angelina Jolie was played these badass characters who could really kick some butt. Even then those were characters, of fiction, there was no hope for me.

They claimed they would allow me to make a full recovery but it was obvious they were a bit too eager to finish what they started three years ago and finally get me off the planet. In the hall after my surgery, I could here reporters, all storming to the door asking if they had really caught me after so long. I'm sure the whole world felt as though I made a mockery out of them seeing as how I wasn't caught sooner, they even put out a $1 million reward for the first person to find me. That's how desperate they were. I guess the one good thing from all of this then is that I'm sure I just changed someone's life, $1 million is a lot of money. Once they shewed them all away they kept taunting me about how they were always going to catch me, sooner or later. Then everything went black, I'm assuming they heavily sedated me but I wouldn't be surprised if they wanted to knock me out with their bare hands out of pure frustration. A young adult nobody outsmarted them, and for a while, I would be frustrated too if I was in their shoes.

When I finally open my eyes all I see is white. I knew I wasn't dead, at least not yet, but everything was blurry so I couldn't exactly tell what was going on or where I was. Government facility is my bet. Can't tell you how long I was out for, maybe just a few hours, or maybe a few days. I mean they have no means of trusting my willingness to stay here so being unconscious I am bound to make their lives a hell of a lot easier. The more my surroundings seem to form the more I see a lot of buttons and blinking lights. I look down to see I am somehow locked to a chair. I say locked and somehow because it's not like they strapped me to it in the usual sense but they also didn't use your standard handcuffs to bind my hands to the chair. So even though I might be able to lift my butt off the seat about an inch I had no way of fully moving from it. I start screaming as loud as I could. I know there is not much I can do at this point but I sure as hell am not going to make this process easy for anybody. Plus I am downright terrified to my core. I never thought in a million years that this would actually happen to me. I was so careful, but obviously not careful enough. I couldn't help but start tearing up. Who knows maybe I'd get lucky and someone would see me crying, sympathize with me, and let me go. Fat chance. These are top secret government people, I doubt they have any sympathy, plus I've heard that if anyone does not abide by the rules here that they are automatically next up on this thing. Straight to the moon, they would go. If that's true and I was in their shoes I wouldn't be sticking my neck out for anyone either.

Before I know it I am briefed on my mission in spite of all of my screaming and crying and then everyone prepares for liftoff. I feel myself start being lifted from the ground and being pointed towards the sky. My heart was pounding so hard in my chest I thought I was going to have a heart attack before I even left the atmosphere. The engines start and I'm shaking more then I thought was ever possible. Liftoff. I was probably being shot up in the air at about one thousand miles per hour. My body was being pulled with gravity to the chair and I thought I was going to faint.

The ride to space seemed like it took years in itself. And that's when it hit me, why they do this every year. There seemed to be an asteroid field that looked like it went on for miles up ahead but only they weren't asteroids. They were bits of metal...like from a rocket. Way more than what could come from just one of these things. As I'm forming my realization the locks on my hands open and I hear a voice that says in a very monotone manner, "self detination in T minus one minute." You would think after all the time I spent successfully hiding I would have more than just a minute to say goodbye to the little life I have lived. They should have at least made me think that there was an actual purpose for me going to the moon unless this was a special punishment just for me for making such fools of them. But here it was gift-wrapped and basically thrown in my face. I now had less than sixty seconds to live. And the end came before I could even fully come to terms with it. And why probably for the amusement of some rich people to get back at the little nobody that made them look like idiots. Because they could.