Heretic

Confess you sins...

"We landed on the moon..."

They hit me.

"We landed on the moon in the 1960's"

They hit me again.

"Neil Armstrong landed on the moon." I spat. "And fuck you." 

They hit me again.

"We never landed on the moon," they said.

"No, we did land on the moon," I said. 

"There" punch. "Is." punch "No." punch "Moon."

What happened to this country?

"Say it." They said.

My mouth is full of blood. My teeth are loosened in my skull; these people mean to undo me. I tongue my loosened teeth and think about losing them. 

I thought about every part of me that I'd be willing to lose for the scientific reality. 

What am I willing to lose for all those who came before. Those Arab Muslims who had their work stolen buy some white dude? 

What do I owe them? Can I.. 

There is a knock at the door.

"Who is it?" They ask.

"Section Chief..." from behind the door.

They move quickly to the door and fling it open. "You're not..." and the back of their head is just a mist before their body crumples to the ground with a hard thump. The two others die in place as well. Whoever shot them had a lot of skill.

"Rafiki! Are you okay?" I hear a voice. I know that voice. 

"No, I'm not..." I sigh... "They hurt me..."

Achmed wraps his arms around me; "It's okay... you'll be okay... we're going to get you out of here,"

Achmed...hated guns. Did he use a gun just now? I felt.. horrible. A man of peace did violence to save me?

No. Please no.

I don't know how long they were torturing me. It all blended together. I feel safe in Achmed's arms.

"I'm in pain, a lot of pain" I say.

"I know, brother, I know... can you walk?" His eyes are glossy with tears.

I wish he didn't have to see me this way. I used to be the strong one. I used to be that mother fucker. 

"I can't.... they took a power drill to my knees." I rasped. "Do you," I coughed  "have some water?" 

Achmed starts crying..."These bastards....

I realize I must smell terrible.

I'm so tired.

"We'll fix you...you'll be okay, you'll be okay..." Achmed lifts me up; I weigh almost nothing. 

I hate weighing nothing.

I'm happy to weigh nothing. 

At least I'm not a burden. 

I can't stay awake anymore. The last thing I hear is Achmed telling someone I'm alive.

.....

I hear the ocean.

"How are you feeling?" a voice asks.

"Better..." I said.

"How do you like your new knees" ...she? Asks.

"They feel good," I say.

"You have to let them heal some more, but you'll be able to walk again soon. Achmed was very worried." She. Definitely she.

"I feel better. How is Achmed?"

"He's fine. They... did a lot of damage to you, we had you in a medically induced coma for a long time."

"How long?"

"Two months," she said. "You have seven broken ribs; all your fingers and toes were broken, too." Her tone is deeply sad. "We had to print new ones for you," she starts to cry.

"Hey, are you okay?" I ask. 

"I'm this is... my ... you are my first. They did this to you and it's so so awful, I" 

"What's next?" I asked, subtle as a chainsaw. 

"Soon we'll be taking you back the moon."

So. It does exist. You mother fuckers! It DOES EXIST.

"Did... Achmed kill those men?" I asked.

"He had to," she said.

"Tell him I'm sorry. Sorry, he had to do that.." I said.

"God will forgive him," she said.

"I hope. I already forgive him."