It had been a week since I won my town’s special mayoral election. Tonight was my swear in ceremony. I was so giddy with excitement mixed with more nervous than I have ever felt. I was checking the mirror, looking for anything that was less than perfect. My hair groomed and slick. My suit was finely pressed. My face clean shaven, although I had a small nick showing on my neck. I brushed down my jacket to get any lint off when my partner came in.
“Stop fussing over it,” Antonio brushed my hands away and straightened my jacket right, “you look fabulous!” I was never sure if I did look good, but his praise meant the world to me.
“I feel like I’m gonna pass out,” I warned. As the time got closer, my heart pounded harder until it threatened to break through my chest entirely.
“Everything’s going to be fine,” he whispered reassuringly. I looked into his pure blue eyes. So clear like looking at a summer sky on a cloudless day. No hint of darkness in sight. He always had a way of making me feel hopeful. It’s one of the things I love about him.
With nightfall quickly approaching, we left quickly toward our park, with everyone gathering as well. We all marched forward like a procession, with me leading the front. We eventually met up with our current Mayor, Johnathan Fitzhugh standing under the gazebo. As I got closer, I noticed our own Reverend Hawthorne walking beside me with his worn-out leather bible clenched in his hands. He prayed with a look of defeat on his face, like praying wouldn’t do anything but he didn’t know what else to do.
I stood right next to mayor Fitzhugh, looking way less than the man he used to be. His auburn hair had prematurely aged, and his eyes sagged with the weight of many a sleepless night. His four-year term, and how it all would end, weighed heavily on him.
Our local Sherriff had pulled up to the gazebo, ready to transport us. I got inside the cruiser first, the cage separating him from me. Outside the cruiser, Rev. Hawthorne was saying a prayer and blessing Fitzhugh for what would be his last act of Mayor. Out in the crowd, Fitzhugh’s wife and two young children had come forward. She had bravely played along until a tsunami of tears erupted from her eyes. She clutched him tightly and wept into his chest. The children hugged their father too, knowing that they’d never see him again. My heart went out to them, and I suddenly wished I had never been chosen for this.
Not when it means separating a loving family like this.
Fitzhugh gave his last smiles and goodbyes and joined me in the back seat. We were driven out of town and into the countryside. The ride had felt like an eternity as we were all silent. Something like this was too heavy for casual conversation. I kept glancing at Fitzhugh while he just looked out the window, taking in every detail the night had played before him. I looked at the Sheriff, and he too had a stoic face concentrating on the destination.
We reached the mile marker on the back road, and the dirt path leading into the forest. Fitzhugh and I got out while the Sheriff stayed behind. Our hike in the forest was just as quiet as the car ride, with only the breaking of twigs underfoot.
We got closer as the thick stench of gas and underlying rot wafted in my nose until it became a full-on assault. It was the first time I had seen the bogland. And more than that, decayed bodies littered the wetlands as far as I could see before being engulfed by thick fog.
Fitzhugh looked downward at the bog, and the dead faces stared up back at him. There was faint, but unmistakable sloshing coming from the bog below. What scarred me most, and surely what Fitzhugh noticed, was that in this place of rot and death, there was the sound movement in the water.
“You need to do it,” he told me, not looking away from bog, while the sound of splashing got louder. I knew what I needed to do, but I protested inside.
He just stood there, overlooking the swamp and its denizens. A slight breeze could topple him over, and I would’ve preferred that. Instead, I steeled myself and I shoved him downhill. He rolled down like a giant ragdoll until the splashed into the bog. As if on cue, the bodies moved toward Fitzhugh while he drowned. In an instant they swarmed him and dragged him below the surface.
A few air bubbles broke through before the water went completely still. After a while, all the dead faces resurfaced, giving the bog a nightmarish polka dot pattern. Fitzhugh’s face was the newest addition to this congregation. With that, the sacrifice was over, and now the town was safe for the time being. As Fitzhugh’s lifeless eyes looked back at me, I had suddenly wished I wasn’t shouldered with this responsibility.