Deathly Voyage

       No. I refuse to go. They cannot make me take part in this horrible lottery. Going to the moon, yeah right. That lottery is just death sentence to get rid of some low-income punk every year.

             The selection was a contest to send someone to the moon for free ever since the satellite had become a getaway destination. A government-funded project to send up some unlucky bastard to earth’s night light in a tin can that has been outdated since before man first walked the moon. I would loved to visit the moon some day, but on one of those newer skyliners that only the wealthy can afford to travel on. So, here I hide. I’m not crazy, I’ll tell you what I know.

             It was yesterday morning. The city was amassed in a massive group in front of City Hall while the mayor and his bodyguards stood close by to perform the raffle, as they do every July 4^th.

             The name is picked out of the cage before the parade so that whoever is selected can be sat in a float and strolled through the town like a hero, leading the line of idiots marching along and throwing candy to the groups of citizens on the sidewalks. Once the parade is complete, the chosen person has a steak dinner with the mayor and is shot into the sky right as the fireworks show begins. What happens next, that’s up to what you believe.

             The brainwashed sheep of the city believe see on their screens at home or the massive one in the heart of downtown. The space vessel lands the next day on the shores of the Sea of Tranquility to begin a new life making guest appearances at the Hotel and Casino there while living in a new house with a fortune to live off of. But I know better. I know that it is just an actor hired by the government that pretends to leap out of the vessel that has been planted to look like it just landed. A hired lookalike to take on the identity of a person who had become another object of space dust, orbiting the earth with all the other garbage. I’m not crazy.

             I had attended the ceremony like everyone else. “Jeremy Harding!” that fat, disgusting excuse for a government official had called out happily. His jowls falling like a blanket in the wind as he spoke. The music began as the crowd erupted into applause. Celebration for a dead man walking.

             I nervously stepped onto the stage where I was greeted by goons in expensive suits. I was only wearing my dirty jacket and torn apart jeans. The man took my hand and shook vigorously- like I would start spilling candy out of my mouth if he shook hard enough. Some photographer took my picture shaking hands with the greasy asshole before they put a sash on me reading, Tranquility Base Moon Explorer 2283. I knew what I had to do. There’d be no escaping if I didn’t make my move at that point.

             Just as the music was coming to an end with the clapping and cheering, I reached into my back pocket. I’ve kept a knife on my ever since I was seventeen incase the government or anyone else meaning to do harm came after me. I flipped the blade out and swung quickly without thinking. I didn’t have time to aim, but my strike was true. The four inch sliver of metal went right through the mayor’s neck like a burning knife through butter. It got stuck on something inside to I had to pull with all my strength in order to pull it free.

             At first, everyone stood silently. A needle could have dropped and it would have sent echoes through the town it was so quiet. The mayor grabbed this throat and coughed blood before falling to his knees in slow motion then going down to his back where he remained unmoving in a pool of crimson. It was like watching a child perform his first ever death scene in a school play, not like how everyone says where they go out quickly.

             As soon as the plump man hit the floor, his minions in expensive suits pulled put their laser pistols and started moving in on me. I was too quick, though. I kept off the stage and into the crowd, the citizens too shocked still to grab me. Making a beeline out of town, the firing happened as soon as I was away from the innocent bystanders. I sprinted in a zig-zag pattern but still felt a hot flash of light take a tiny piece of my left ear off.

             The sirens started not long after as the police cruisers searched the city for me. I was an outlaw now. An assassin on the run, but I had to do what I did. This horrific lottery couldn’t go on any longer.

             I broke into a car parked on the street. A luxury model that could glide through the sky at a top speed of 200 miles per hour. The authorities would never get me in that. Only problem was, I had no where to go. My apartment in the slum part of town would be the first place they looked- not to mention the seven locks on my door, though a good way of keeping anyone out, would have taken too long to unlock. I had no friends and no family that would be able to take me in and hide me for a few days before I figured what to do. The whole town would be after me anyway, I had to go.

             I beelined to the forests surrounding the city. The cops would have dogs to sniff my scent, but I’d taught myself enough survival techniques in preparation for when the world ended itself or for a time like this. Not so crazy now, huh?

             Ditching the luxury vehicle into a deep part of a river, I ran for the mountains and found a tiny cave that now serves as my home. I’ve been on the run for thirty-six hours now and I do not intend to surrender. The sun is setting and the moon is beginning to show. It’s my own personal trophy that shows ever night to remind me of my victory.  I’ll live out here for the rest of my life if I have to. They’ll remember me as a hero. The first man to stand up to the government’s little annual game. The martyr who had to take the life of a tyrannical mayor to begin the Revolution. You’ll see. You’ll all see, I’m not crazy.