“Amen.” He desperately muttered. Gary didn’t believe in God. He did when he was younger, but not anymore. Chalked it all up to the same childhood ignorance that makes you believe all adults are right and girls are icky. On this occasion however, Gary would take what he could get. It had been a fortnight since he had been thrown in this dump and he was still no closer to getting out than when he began. He knew his promises were getting emptier by the day and once that ran thin, he would have to rely on basic morality and human decency to keep himself alive. The very thought caused bitter laughter to come kicking it’s way-out Gary’s mouth. Humans weren’t decent. Not anywhere, but especially not here. This place was the pinacol of all depravity and sin. This place was where every unjust waste of skin to ever blight the earth was thrown. This place was Hell, this place was evil, and it’s where Gary was going to spend the rest of his life.
Campbell’s Correctional Facility was built on Titan, and as far as everyone knew it took up the whole moon. Titan is approximately 27 times larger than the United States in terms of surface area however, so no one has explored it enough to confirm this fact. Even those punished with vehicles never saw much more than a few square miles. It had a remarkable sales pitch. Humanity was reaching the furthest stars. We had the ability to live on planets once thought inhospitable. We were evolving into something better than mere humans. Doesn’t it make sense to shirk the dead weight? Isaac Campbell, the inventor of the prison, made the point that humans had evolved beyond natural selection. Advancements in medicine had allowed even the most decrepit of individuals to participate in normal life. Bad evolutionary traits would never get weened out of the gene pool, and the last thing we wanted was to take a serial killer with us into the next frontier. Campbell’s Correctional would be a place where the worst of us would be given a punishment befitting their sins in life. Not copying their sins, rather analyzing them. Studying them. Learning from them, until the culprit’s mind was understood in its entirety. The culprit would then be given a punishment that the creators knew would work. Something hand crafted to perfectly trigger all of the prisoner’s greatest fears and insecurities until they had no choice but to repent. It was never meant to be a place where you stay for life, nor was it a place where you were thrown for getting a speeding ticket, but as we all know nothing can defeat change. It didn’t take long for the definition of “the worst of us” to begin to blur. Prisoners would be placed in CC at first only if they had a previous life or death sentence. Then all prisoners who had taken a life. Then all prisoners who were in for more than 20 years. Then all prisoners who through a newly crafted form of psychiatric evaluation were deemed insane. Then all who were deemed insane by the psych-eval whether they were prisoners or not. That was the point of no return.
Today, CC is a place where everyone goes at one point or another. It’s taken as a part of life. You screw up somehow, you’re thrown into CC, and assuming you aren’t killed inside, you get out. Only the most unfortunate are told that CC is their forever home, but even this list has grown like an inoperable cancer, spreading its corruption into the heart and brains of societies inner workings. Gary thought he was safe. He thought he was among the one percent who were elite enough to avoid such low-class problems as prison. Gary had enough money in his personal holdings alone to ensure that his children’s children would never want for anything, and in non-liquid assets he had the ability to prolong his legacy until the end of time. And he wasn’t special. All the elites would hire prostitutes, cheat taxes, and employ cutthroat business practices. Why him? Why couldn’t Troy get thrown in here instead? Troy went out of his way to destroy smaller businesses even though he knew they would never threaten his. He took pleasure in knowing that this family trying to start up a cell phone repair company won’t make rent because of him. Yet Troy was called a hero. Troy was brought before the jury to testify against Gary’s malicious crimes of withholding money from his dipshit fail son.
Gary wasn’t given a life sentence per say, but he was given a sentence of twenty years. Gary was sixty-five years old. Surviving to age eighty was a long shot without access to his prescriptions. He was currently at war with heart attacks, though a pacemaker had recently established a DMZ. He was well aware that if he continued living in such a high stress environment that a DMZ would only hold the opposition for so long, and if they fought back, they would ally with the neighboring countries of strokes and cataracts. Even pretending that Gary had complete safety in his ramshackle fortitude guarded by altruistic men, he still couldn’t risk any more time being stuck on this rock. He had to get out. He knew his son wasn’t going to get him out. He knew the lawyers were taking long lunches and finding more ways to charge his wife a fee. He knew escape wasn’t up to the outside, it was up to him.
He decided to talk to Mason about escaping. Mason was one of Gary’s personal guards, and he had been here for just shy of a decade. Mason was connected among prisoners. It was this connection that allowed Gary to find more guards, and enough strongmen to build his castle. Mason would know what to do.
“Mason.” Gary beckons. His voice comes quavering from his throat as though it struggled beneath the thousand-pound barbell that was his request. Mason didn’t seem to notice. Gary admired this in Mason. Mason was self-assured and self-sufficient. He had an objective, impartial view of humanity, having been quoted as saying: “All humans have inherent value. You and I will get along best if you keep yours in check.” Many would call this cruel or use it as an excuse to call Mason a monster, but Gary loved it. CC and social media had created a narrative in society that believing you were better than others was the most evil of sins. A racist comment or a sexist joke labeled you as a demon instantly. How dare you imply that not all people are equal to you? As a matter of fact, everyone is better than you because you are a bigot. You think someone is worse than you, you know who else did that? Hitler.
Mason wasn’t like that. He understood that some people are just awful, and he wasn’t going to allow those people to weigh him down on his road to success.
“My condition has worsened. I suspect that absent of medication I will only last another five years. I need to get out of here. I need your help to do it. What do you know about previous escape attempts?” Mason’s gaze shimmered and blurred as he took his focus off Gary and on to the question at hand.
“Many have attempted to escape. As far as I’m aware there have only been three attempts that got far enough to be worth examination.” Gary’s heart became weightless and floated with hope.
“What happened?”
“The first was by a man named Beckham, given a life sentence. He killed another prisoner and waited in an alleyway for the cleanup crew to come and dispose of the body. Upon arrival he faked his own death, causing the cleanup crew to pick him up too. Beckham planned to continue faking his death until he arrived on a rocket. He thought he would either be put on the garbage trolley and brought to Saturn or be put on Exodus to have a proper funeral. Either way he’d be on a rocket, which he would then hideaway in until the rocket returned to some larger city to refuel.”
“Did it work?” Gary asked, trying to not let his childish hope shine through.
“No.” Mason grunted. “He was put on the garbage trolley. Two days later we were given an education by the warden that the garbage trolleys were AI piloted, and they’re contents are dumped into the sun.”
“Damnit.” Gary spat. “It would have been so easy.” There was a shared moment of silence between the men. “What about the other two attempts?”
“They were more promising, though ultimately unsuccessful.” Mason recited scientifically. “One prisoner was punished by being forced to spend forty hours a week building things with his hands. He was an engineering student, and a gifted one. He actually tried to build a two person rocket and use it to escape the planet. It was fascinating to watch him work, but what was more fascinating was that the warden was well informed on what was going on, and he didn’t care. He just let that poor kid build away.”
“Did he finish?”
“No, but thankfully because his sentence was up. Other engineers and smart people took up his design and finished it.”
“And they escaped?”
“If they had escaped with it, wouldn’t you have heard? No, they didn’t escape. The rocket had no way to handle the debris and asteroid fields around Saturn, and no way to last long enough to reach other planets. It was hit by an asteroid.” As someone who made his money on Wall Street bets, Gary thought he had a profound understanding of pattern recognition, and this magnificent gift of clairvoyance whispered the secrets to his ear that this third escape attempt didn’t end well either. After a moment of frustrated grunts and abandoned starts to sentences, Gary begrudgingly asked what happened in the third escape attempt.
“It wasn’t that long ago, believe it or not. Only about five years ago.” Mason said this like it was a fascinating tidbit about the cheese plate he had just presented his dinner guests. “It wasn’t an attempt to get off the planet, it was an attempt to take the planet and make it ours, via kidnapping the warden.”
“The warden?” Gary asked, half in disbelief and half in curiosity. The warden didn’t seem like he did much, kidnapping him seemed like a useless gesture.
“The plan was to seize the hub building where incoming and outgoing prisoners are processed and stop any rockets from leaving. They assumed that if they could take the warden hostage, society at large would panic as if the president was taken and pay anything to keep him alive. They had the numbers to take the administrative building with frightening efficiency. The warden was found in his office playing minesweeper. He very clearly wasn’t the same man that they saw at the start of their sentence. After a few minutes of interrogation, the rioters were taught that the warden is nothing but a status figure. There isn’t ‘a’ warden, it’s a shift job that many people tap in and out of doing. All the decisions are made on Saturn remotely and acted out by AI.”
“So there’s just no hope then?! Even the warden of the prison doesn’t mean anything and we’re all just stuck here?!” Gary barks. A dark, crackling smile disseminates across Mason’s red bearded face.
“We were stuck here,” Mason replied, “but that was until we met Casey.” Gary didn’t want to invest emotion in this Casey figure. He was fed up with riding the emotional roller coaster that hope always is. Mason continued regardless. “Casey is a software engineer. He was employed to work on the AI for certain parts of the prison. He was never told what parts, but after considerable experimentation and lots of research, Casey has discovered that the AI he built is currently piloting the garbage ships. He plans to sneak onto the garbage ship, use his knowledge of the AI’s inner workings to rewrite its course, and get us home.”
“Seems too easy.”
“Hey, the best solution to a problem is usually the easiest one, right?” Mason joked. “Look as far as I can tell you don’t have the time to be choosey about your escape attempts. The garbage trolley is big but not big enough to get everyone a seat. Casey is currently auctioning off seats on the rocket and seats are filling up fast. You have nothing to offer other than outside assets, and this might be one of the only places left where your money is valued. I’m going to the auction, if for no other reason than to watch the chaos. Are you coming?”
At the auction
The auction was held in the center of the city. Gary was surprised that there was a city, let alone one so well maintained, but Mason told him that a large percentage of prisoners in CC these days are fairly pedestrian, and their crimes are minimal, so they will receive punishments like working a boring forty hour a week job, or constantly having to be on the phone. It was thusly important to have an infrastructure and a network these people could fall into. These people were named very appropriately, “the working class” and they were the ones that were assaulted most often because they had things like packs of gum, wallets, and cell phones on their person at all times. They usually didn’t fight back either. Violent prisoners would approach a member of the working class, and before anything was even said the victim would have emptied their pockets, surrendered their body, and prepared for what was next. In return they’d get a little bit of mercy and survive the encounter. Gary knew there would be no mercy if such a thing happened to him.
Gary’s punishment in Campbell’s Correctional was that every prisoner on the moon was made aware of who he was, what his belongings were, and what his crimes were that got him here. He was big enough outside of the prison to make sure that everyone inside of the prison had a reason to hate him. Gary knew of his punishment, and it made him petrified to ever leave his den. He insisted that Mason should go to the auction alone as an ambassador, but Mason refused. “It will be fine” he said. “We’ll travel light and fast, stay under cover, use my connections, everything will be just fine.” Gary hated every iota of this plan, yet somehow, he found himself twenty minutes outside the bounds of his hideout ducking into a garage door for cover. Perhaps he liked Mason more than he thought. The journey was perilous and terrifying but the two men arrived to their destination safely regardless. Mason scouted the area and found that Casey would be conducting the auction from the window of an office building on the third story, while the patrons all stood on the ground level. It would be chaos, but Mason was confident he could use his connections to get inside the building where the higher ups of the prison would bid.
“Wait here.” Mason grunted, shoving Gary into an alleyway. “I’m going to talk to the guard, see if we can get inside,”
“What if I’m attacked?!” Gary spat. Mason replied by pulling a small, Leatherman pocketknife from his backpack and handing it to Gary.
“This?!” Gary sputtered indignantly. “What the hell do you want me to do with this?! The sharpest thing on here is a nail file and I’m sixy-five fucking years old!!”
“I have faith that when the moment arrives the desire to not die will aid your critical thinking. Now keep quiet.” Mason said. Mason proceeded to wade through the mosh pit of humans awaiting the auction and within a moment he was gone. Gary just stood there. He couldn’t do anything else. The thought that Mason had left him here with nothing more than a tiny Leatherman to defend himself was insulting! He was immobilized by a concoction of equal parts offense and equal parts fear. And here! Of all places! Mason had decided to leave Gary here! Of all the places in this city to hide Mason had to choose this place, this place of, of… where was he anyway? Gary examined his surroundings. He saw four or five men sitting in a circle at the end of the alleyway. In the center of the circle was something that Gary couldn’t make out from this distance, but whatever it was it was smoking. Gary was unsure about what to do next. Obviously the deeper into the alley he went, the better hidden he was and therefore the better protected. At the same time however, he didn’t want to get close and accidentally get high off whatever these junkies were huffing, or worse provoke their anger. He decided that he should get a little bit closer, just enough to stay out of direct sight, but no further than that.
“Junkies.” Gary muttered. He saw the group of men as the perfect analogy for what was wrong with this world. These men didn’t work. They didn’t have any interest in self-improvement. There was an auction going on that if won could get you out of this prison, and none of them cared. All they thought about was the next time they could get high, and the next time they could cum. Despicable. Utterly despicable. It was people like them that were slowing all of us down on the path to the next frontier. “They deserve to be here, and the fact that I’m here right alongside them is all the more insulting.” Gary thought. He looked around at the other people moving towards the auction, and all he saw was more of the same. Women prostituting themselves for a closer spot to the auctioneer’s window, drug dealers trying to exploit the stupid, all scum. Gary figured he ought to stop. He was getting too angry, and his heart rate was rising. He wasn’t sure when he’d get another moment like this for rest, he’d better capitalize on it.
Suddenly, Gary made eye contact with a stranger. Gary quickly darted his gaze elsewhere. When he looked back, he noticed the stranger hadn’t moved. He was staring at Gary, studying him. The stranger’s eyes widened, and his eyebrows furrowed as he recognized who Gary was. He started towards Gary with a determined march. Gary stumbled backward and hit the alleyway walls. He started fumbling for the Leatherman in his pocket, and upon retrieving it, he dropped it.
“No!” Gary unconsciously barked. He bent down to grab his weapon, but it was too late, the stranger was upon him. The man knocked Gary unto his stomach and pressed his leather booted foot against the back of Gary’s head.
“You’re Gary Treyheart. You’re that heartless son of a bitch that got me fired.”
“Please! I didn’t know!” Gary begged as his fists clawed the ground for his weapon.
“You didn’t know what? Didn’t know that I worked in that plant? Didn’t know that my wife would leave when she found out I lost my job? Didn’t know that I’d get kicked out of my apartment? What Gary, you didn’t know what?!” The stranger pressed harder with his boot, crushing Gary’s nose and causing his forehead to scrape across the dirty concrete floor.
“Please, I’m sorry. I didn’t do it to hurt you, it was just business! I said I was sorry, where’s your humani-“
“NO!” The stranger interrupted. “You’re not sorry. How could you be? You haven’t yet felt anything like the pain I’ve experienced. Well now you’re about to.” The stranger lifted his boot from the back of Gary’s head. When Gary turned around, he saw that the man was raising his leg for a stomp. Gary closed his eyes and covered his face with his arms, bracing for impact. Suddenly Gary heard a loud metallic thump, yet Gary felt nothing. The thumps continued as the voice of the stranger made one quick jabbering shriek, and then was silenced. Gary slowly removed his arms from his face to see what was happening, whereupon his vision was greeted by the outstretched arm of one of a man who just a moment ago had been high as a kite. Gary studied the man up and down. He was wearing a leather jacket, and he was wielding a now blood-soaked metal baseball bat.
“You OK?” The man asked. He was a big man, but more in weight than anything else. He wore a blue beanie hat and jeans that were at least two sizes too small. He lifted Gary up on to his feet and handed him his glasses. “That guy almost wasted ya.”
“Y-yes. I’m OK, thank you.” The man nodded slowly.
“You want a hit? We got the good shit, Keith found it.”
“N-no thank you I-“ suddenly Gary’s voice was cut off by a sharp whistle. Gary turned around and saw Mason thirty feet back, motioning him forward. Gary shakily stepped forward, trying to keep his heart rate under control.
“Keep away from crowds!” The vagabond yelled before returning to his drugs. Gary waved and picked up speed so he could reach Mason just that scant bit faster.
“What the hell happened to you? You look like someone threw a watermelon at you.” Mason sarcastically chortled.
“Someone attacked me. He was going to kill me, but I was saved by a vagrant.”
“Oh… you didn’t…use the pocketknife?”
“No.”
“Oh. Well come on. I got us a seat at the big shots table. You’ll have front row seats to the main event.”
Three days later
The day of the big escape was finally here. Casey’s subroutines were perfectly crafted, and they were going to work. Casey had found a flash drive to transport the code onto, and the crew had employed enough men to take the administrative building by storm and get the winners of the auction onto the garbage ship. Gary knew he shouldn’t be excited. It was bad for his heart, and besides there was no way that it would go perfectly. No plan every survives contact with the enemy. Something would go wrong, and when it did, he wouldn’t be prepared. None of that changed the fact that Gary’s heart was aflutter with the anticipation of the coming hour. He couldn’t wait to get off this trash pit, land on Saturn, get in contact with his wife, and get saved. He looked around the caravan and noticed that Casey was walking towards him with a concerned face.
“You and I have to talk.” Casey barked.
“O-Okay? Why?”
“I’ve done the math,” Casey started “and your net worth isn’t higher than twelve billion dollars. You’ve promised me fourteen just for the seat, and another five for ferrying you to the nearest phone. Explain yourself.” Gary took a deep breath and swallowed hard enough to keep it down.
“My return should bring stocks up like crazy. I’ve got debts I can call in. I’ll make it I promise.”
“You’ll make it.”
“Yes, I’ll get it. The fourteen for sure. The five maybe not immediately but I will get it. It will just take time. A month at most.”
Casey’s eyes narrowed so far, they almost closed. He then turned around and walked back to the front of the caravan. Gary was terrified, but he confided in the fact that Casey was a man of high status. He came from high class society; he knew how assuredly money came to those who had it. He understood. Certainly.
Gary continued moving in the war caravan, though he tried to keep his distance from Casey. He didn’t need any more questions about money. He just needed to get out. He ran through the plan once more in his mind, just to make sure it was fully memorized.
They would arrive at the administrative office and the hired arms would take the guards at the front door by storm. They would take the guards weapons and keycards and use them to get into the warden’s office. Once the warden was under control everyone would move towards the hangar except Casey, he would hang back and hack communications so he can make sure no messages out of the ordinary are sent to Saturn. Any hired arms would take out any guards that were stationed in front of or within the garbage ship. There were fourteen men including Casey, and they would be allocated as strategically as possible. Casey and his two friends would take the three engineer seats in the cockpit, just in case the AI had to be completely cut off and manual flight would have to be used. Eight men would hide in the storage units, and the other three would have no choice but to fake their deaths and hide among the rubbish. Gary was one of those three since he was the last to win at the auction. The strong men would be paid, then the escapees would take off and arrive on Saturn in twenty-three hours.
Gary analyzed the plan in his mind another six times. His cynicism and nervous nature told him that there was something wrong with the plan, but he couldn’t find out what it was. He decided to talk to Mason one last time. They would arrive at the administrative office soon, and after that the carnage would separate them. Mason was near the front of the caravan, as he was one of the muscle men hired to take the office. Gary smiled when he thought of Mason. Of the many men hired to protect Gary in his time of need, Mason was the only one that actually liked Gary, and wasn’t just in it for the money. Mason was ruthless, and professional. He said things how they were, and it was refreshing. Gary couldn’t deny that he had grown attached to Mason. Mason’s large figure and vibrant red beard had become a comforting sight, reminding him that he’s alright and he’s safe because his guardian was here. He approached Mason and the weight of his goodbye started to drag on his heart. Mason had another fifteen years he was supposed to stay on this hell. He was connected, but even that only reaches so far.
“Mason?” Gary called out. Mason turned his head. Gary could see he was lost deep within the jungle of thought. The two men caught up and Gary assumed Mason’s stride. “I wanted to say thank you. For being my guide, my bodyguard, and my connection to Casey.” Mason nodded and kept walking. There was a prolonged silence where Gary expected Mason to say something. Something along the lines of “thank you Gary for the two billion dollars you promised me.” Mason remained silent, and he never shifted his gaze away from the path ahead. Gary never cared much for games, so he got straight to the point.
“Are you ok?” Mason stared at Gary for what could only have been a millennium before he finally spoke.
“Is it true that you’re only worth twelve billion?”
“Oh, for God’s sake Mason.”
“I heard you promise Casey fourteen. I was in the room when you bid. If you’re only worth twelve billion dollars, how are you going to pay him off and keep your promise to me?”
“I’ll get it, ok?”
“How will you get it? Do you have a plan?”
“Yes, I have a plan. I’ll borrow money from my son.”
“I know you think that’s going to work but I think you’re over estimating you son’s coopera-“
“I’LL GET IT!” Gary’s heart rate rose, higher than it had ever been since the pacemaker. He felt his face burn with anger, and his ears turn a numb yellow. Mason flinched, but only for a moment. Mason chuckled, like a bully just noticing his victim knew how to throw a punch. Gary couldn’t take it anymore. He returned to the back of the caravan with the other bidders and refused to say another word to Mason. Forget him. In a matter of hours, they would arrive, and then they’d never have to see each other again.
The caravan arrived at the administrative office five hours later, and the slaughter began. Mason and his men jumped the security guards with speed and force unlike anything Gary had ever seen before. They were excellent at their job. Mason and his men didn’t fight to kill, or else the whole encounter would have been over in seconds. Mason and his crew fought to suffer. They threw their victims into a rapid cacophony of anguish and terror, barking order after order until their victims were left a screaming, brain dead mush, only able to limply follow commands barked at them by screaming bearded soldiers. The guards were on the floor and naked in record time, less than ten seconds. Blood covered the floor and screams filled the skies within five. The guards cracked, like any man would, and surrendered their ID cards. Mason then took their rifles and shot both guards, each in the fatal T. The security doors opened, and Mason entered the building. Used his strength and his gun to get the new incoming prisoners, still fresh and lively with full bellies and peaking hatred, to start a riot. The riot moved quickly through admission halls. They had too. If they didn’t catch communications in time the hangars would be remotely shut down and nobody would be going anywhere. Casey darted down the hall after Mason’s merry men and a tall but thin black man named Cornelius led the bidders to the hangar. Once inside the bidders spilt up and would search each hangar individually until someone gave the signal meaning they found the rocket. It was christened “Apovlita” and would bear the symbol of the Republic Sun.
Gary tried moving slowly, doing his best to keep his heart rate down. He arrived at the first hangar and started looking. He first looked at the thrusters to find the Republic Sun, but that went nowhere because all of the ships bore the sigil. He then went ship by ship, scanning the cockpits for names. His feet slapped painfully against the concrete floor, and his eyes strained to see the ship titles through the blur of old age and a beating heart. He stopped beneath what appeared to be the smallest rocket in the hangar. His breath came burning from his throat in hoarse, sharp beats. He raised his head up to the top of its extension and elevated himself onto his toes. The words were still beyond comprehension. A frustrated groan came rolling its way out Gary’s throat, but it was interrupted by an agonizing coughing fit that brought it’s battalion of tears and vomit cascading out Gary’s weakening face. He gave up. Gary dropped onto his knees and clawed at air. He beat his chest trying to calm it down, but to no avail. He would need a doctor for sure. Hopefully finding one would even be possible for an outlaw. Maybe Casey would know someone.
The adrenaline was pounding its way through Gary’s sense of time, therefore to him the search for Apovlita was an odyssey, but eventually the signal was given and all the men moved towards the rocket. The ladder was cast for those who were smuggling into the storage containers. For Gary and the other two, the trash compacter was opened. The trash had already been pressed, making it incredibly dense. There was no way the three men would be able to get within it. Their only choice was to pile on top. The first man climbed in. He had to lay flat on his back to fit, and the tip of his nose scrapped mournfully across the ceiling as he did so. The second man piled in, essentially making love to his comrade they were so close together. The only way Gary was going to fit is if someone closed the door behind him, and used the door to push them in. Gary waited for someone to come around. He thought it would be Casey that came, but none other than Mason came staggering his way through the hangar doors. Blood covered his body like a cartoon character, as if it were thrown at him via a paint bucket from down left stage. He had a makeshift bandage made from orange jumpsuit cloth coursing his left arm. In his right arm he clutched with the ferocity of death, a bowie knife.
“Mason!” Gary yelled, causing another coughing fit to escape like the prison riot Mason had just led. “I won’t fit on my own, you have to push me!” Mason stared. His eyes were a cavern of nothing. He began to glide towards Gary, dragging his left foot behind him as he did. Gary tried to explain as Mason approached.
“There’s room for me, but I won’t fit unless someone behind me can close the door and push me in, if you give me-“ Gary’s heart rate dropped lower than it had ever been. The heart plummeted through his body until it splashed down into the pool of anguish floating around Gary’s feet. Mason’s blade had pierced through the flesh of Gary’s back. It pressed forward until it broke through the muscle, and then further until it punctured the spine, and then further once more until it had gutted the soul. Gary dropped to his knees; the impact caused a cascade of tears to boil their way out of Gary’s fading eyes.
Gary closed his eyes and watched his vision turn from murky liquid stained black to a vivid blue. He stood there before his wife on their wedding day, looking into the eyes of the woman who would over the course of his life give him one child, four thousand headaches and one heart attack. He then turned away from his wife and walked into the office where he made the phone call accepting his new job. He put the phone down and looked up at his father, as his father removed the belt from his pants and used it to torment his children.
Gary watched the fleeting glances of the life he squandered dance and chase their way into the infinite twilight ahead. Gary didn’t believe in God. On this occasion however Gary would take what he could get. He wretched out one last prayer, begging, pleading, sacrificing himself.
“Please God, if you really do exist, if you really do give a shit about what happens to me, don’t let me suffer eternally, for my mistakes in life.”