Charon 40

The way the sunlight on a hot day ricochets off the windshields of every car in the mall parking lot, that's how the sunlight reflected off of every stone on Planet Taurus' moon, Charon 40. The surface, like a house of mirrors, every direction bright and glassy.

Marc bounced gently on the moons surface, careful not to rip his spacesuit on the sharp, broken-bottle rocks. He didn't want to melt and the littlest rip could do anything. . .

The astronaut watched his companions get out of the ship, really slowly. Two guys, two girls: Mitchel, Wayne, Abigail and Caci. Marc knew all too well, they were all stoned as hell. He remembered, back in the shuttle's cockpit, Wayne passed a fat blunt to Caci, who was staring out the window at the stars, fucked up on shrooms. Abigail was snorting coke off Mitchel's eyelids. At least three of them had dropped acid.

Marc didn't do anything and earlier, Wayne had nudged him and shouted, "C'mon man, don't pussy out, you won't regret this, I mean, c'mon, how cool would it be to DROP on the fuckin' moon?!"

Marc didn't move. Didn't answer, even though he had a hundred legitimate excuses. It's not a good idea to fuck the brain up in the middle of a difficult search-and-rescue mission. On the surface of a planet, somewhere safe, a coffeeshop even, maybe. Nothing could be more fun, a head full of acid, walking down the street toward . . . wherever.

That's fine, Marc thought. But Charon 40 isn't the best place.

So he withheld and the rest of the crew partook.

On the moon's rocky surface, scattered with those millions and millions of little mirrors, gems and disco balls, Marc watched the crew file out of the ship. He watched them stumble over themselves and glisten in the rocks and forget to put their visors down and nearly blind themselves. The sober one watched the drunk as they bounced out, over the surface of the moon, like blissful pixies.

Caci bounded up to Marc and said, "Jesus, aren't you glad they don't drug test anymore?"

Marc wasn't thrilled. He was thinking of the six or so lives the crew had to save, not counting the ones that may have already been roasted alive in the heat of the moon. Say, if their suits ripped or the hull disintegrated, whatever.

The junkies scattered off and Marc trailed behind, loose as a feather, worried as an anchor. They were going the wrong way. But they stopped at a large rock, gleaming blue and beautiful against the infinite night sky. It was worth more than several countries back on Earth. Too bad they couldn't remove it at all, against intergalatic park laws.

"Guys . . ." Marc said into his microphone.

"Guys, I got an idea." Wayne said. "But before I tell you, you all have to tell me the dirtiest secret you have. Do it. We may never be on the moon again."

"Your idea has to be amazing." Abigail said. "I'll go first. I starred in my first porno . . . when I was fifteen."

"Oh, ok." Mitchel said. "When I was six, I took my grandmother's chiuauaha, the one she loved so much and castrated it. Cut the balls clean off."

"Did you make your grandmother eat them?" Wayne asked.

"Hell no. The dog escaped and ran into traffic. My grandmother never knew which pieces were missing. And she never blamed me."

"Wayne's next." Abigail said.

"OK," Wayne breathed in deep. "Let's see. . . I almost set my cat on fire?"

"No. . ."

"I was molested by my older cousin. . ."

"C'mon man, we don't wanna hear your life story. . ."

"Ok, ok." Wayne breathed heavy. "I knew what the Martinville Killer looked like and never told anyone."

Mitchell crouched up, excited. "REALLY?"

"I saw him kill victim no. 17. Night of April 11th. Didn't tell a soul."

"You know, that other guy who was accused of being the Killer, he got the gas chamber."

"You mean lethal injection."

"No, they brought the Chamber back. It's easier to afterward just cremate the bodies. Course, the gas only knocks them unconscious now. It's really the fire that gets them."

"Anyway, the the Martinville Killer has blue eyes, red hair and he's five foot eleven." Wayne sighed smugly and leaned his five foot eleven frame against the giant blue diamond, blinked his eyes to match and shook his red hair out of his eyes. "Believe it or not." He said.

"Caci is next."

"Oh, you don't want to hear about little, ol' me." She said. "Trust me."

Marc spoke up. "When I was six, I accidentally poisoned my parents." Everyone turned to the one person who's head was straight.

"Just a kid, playing with some chemicals under the sink. Poured something bad into my mother's cooking. They ate their food and I ate something for kids and the next thing I knew, they were in the hospital. Watched them die. And I didn't shed a tear."

There was silence on the moon, as there always is, but something about it seemed even quieter than usual.

Finally Wayne said, "OK, now for my big secret plan. I was planning to do this all along, no matter what you did." The intoxicated astronaut reached up to his neck and pulled the seam and his helmet floated away. Instantly, his head froze, instead of bursting into flame.

Abigail did the same. Then Mitchel, then Caci. Their heads froze, dark red and blue icicles running across their faces, the blood vessles exploded with ice. Their eyes shattered into crystal, floated out their heads, now empty and lifeless. Soon, each corpse lifted up by the giant blue crystal and then up further, higher and higher into space.

Marc watched them in envy until he couldn't see them.