Penemue's Inferno

by Ramy Vance

  But the thing about pain … once you acknowledge it, let it show, there isn’t a force on Earth, Hell or Heaven that can bottle it back up. Medusa let out a cry that broke my heart in a way far more literal than should have been possible.

  She cried, and as she did, those strange snakes fell away from her skull, dropping to the ground like the lifeless creations that they were. And Medusa didn’t move, just touched her now bald head and cried harder for yet another thing she had lost. Sure, those snakes might have been a lie, but they were her lie, and after so much suffering, sometimes we need to take comfort in whatever we can … even a lie.

  She stood twenty feet above us, so there was nothing I could do but watch. And mourn.

  There she was, another person who died because I wasn’t fast enough, strong enough, smart enough to stop the danger before it hit them. Another one of my failures brought back from death, and I was beginning to wonder if Penemue’s Hell wasn’t just for him.

  Whether Medusa was real or just another construct of Hell, it didn’t matter ... the creature before us was in pain. Real, uncompromising, unforgiving pain.

  Helpless, I approached the cliff face and said the only words I could find. “I’m sorry …” But my words were drowned out by her lamentations.

  “I’m sorry,” I repeated over and over again. “I’m so, so sorry.”

  Why Would Anyone Ever Fight Over Me?

  We stood like that for a long time, me touching the rock face and repeating words that I had said a thousand times before to the memory of her, while she stood several feet above me, wailing in pain.

  And in that time, I never turned to see what Bella or Judith were doing. I was too consumed by the desire to make up for yet another one of my failures. Too consumed by the self-pity I felt in knowing that I never could.

  But as is true of all pain, eventually it ebbs enough that we can move on, and as Medusa’s tears died down, my apologies were finally able to float up to her perch.

  Whether it was what I said, or the fact that it was me who spoke … or that after all this time in Hell, someone finally recognized her pain, Medusa stopped crying. Wiping away tears, she looked at down at me as I stood with my own tear-filled eyes repeating words that I meant from the core of my soul.

  Medusa shook her head and pursed her lips. She dropped to the ground, falling the twenty feet as if she had hopped down the last couple steps of a stairwell.

  As soon as she was on the ground, Marty leapt from my should and onto her, his forked tongue licking her cheeks as the once immortal snake hissed in a manner that could only be described as extreme joy.

  Medusa cradled her former main viper like she might a child, stroking the serpent with a gentle caress that simultaneously expressed great affection and sadness. And as she did, she just stared at us, her eyes strafing over to Bella, then Judith and finally to me.

  When her eyes were on me, her lips curled almost imperceptibly, a slight smile meeting her cheeks. No that’s not right—it wasn’t a smile. It was relief. Like she finally saw something that brought her comfort and that comfort was … well, me.

  And I knew in that moment, without a doubt, that this was the real Medusa.

  Her relief disappeared when her eyes fell once more on Judith, her face returning to a cold, expressionless state. And as for Bella … I believe the expression was “throwing shade.” Her lips would purse before her eyes narrowed, like she was assessing her enemy.

  Yes, her emotions were subtle, but they were definitely there. And it kind of made sense, too. Medusa had a major crush on me. Not that I understood why; a catch I am not, but for whatever reason, she was into me. I know because Astarte told me (spicing up her words with all sorts of serpentine references about how Medusa’s snakes augmented the pleasure of, well … I’m blushing just thinking about it).

  But I always rejected her advances because I wasn’t ready to date. No, that’s not exactly true. It was because I really liked her, too, and could see it going somewhere with her, but then I’d think of Bella and that just froze me. I had promised to love Bella in this life and next, and even though she was gone, I didn’t know how to move on.

  So I’d always make up an excuse not to date Medusa.

  Until one day I ran out of those excuses and acquiesced. I agreed to go on a date. One single date. A date on which she died. Casanova hasn’t got anything on me.

  But now here she stood. Alive … as was my wife. And we were in Hell.

  Together.

  With my mother-in-law.

  Seriously, Hell really sucks.

  But Medusa wasn’t whole. Not like Bella. There was something seriously off about her. She was suffering from some form of PTSD, and given that she was preternatural huntress with incredible magical abilities, that made her dangerous.

  My only hope was that my military training, combined with my history and knowledge of Medusa, would allowed me to perceive what was going on in her head before she went all stab-stab, turn-you-to-stone crazy on us.

  I also prayed that Bella and Judith didn’t notice the ire in her gaze. And if they did, they wouldn’t have any idea what it was about.

  Not that Bella was the jealous type. She knew that I was like a dog chasing a car … if I ever caught one, I wouldn’t know what to do with it. But we had just been reunited, and the last thing I wanted to do was diminish that reunion in any way.

  The intricacies of this situation were like a spider’s webbing—every tiny movement would send vibrations through the whole thing.

  Holding onto the hope that my relationship with Medusa would miraculously fly under the radar, I left Medusa by the cliff face with Marty. As I walked over to my wife and mother-in-law, I thought about how Judith knew about my one disastrous date with Medusa. But I figured that even she knew better than to bring it up.

  Judith hated me, but she wasn’t evil. At least, I didn’t think so.

  I walked over slowly, considering what to say. Something about how we needed to keep moving. How Medusa should come with us, and how she saved us, when Bella said, “So, you and the gorgon, huh?”

  So much for flying under the radar.

  ↔

  I shot Judith a look, but my mother-in-law threw up her hands like someone surrendering. “I didn’t say a word.”

  “She didn’t need to,” Bella said, her face oddly unreadable. I had no idea if she was mad or understanding or …

  “Um,” I started—the opening gambit of anyone who’s just realized that their hope of getting away with something is just self-delusion.

  Before I could say another word, Judith glided away. Given she had legs again, it was more a shuffle, but it still had that creepy, ghostly quality to it.

  “So you were saying ‘Um’ …” Bella said, folding her arms across her chest.

  “Yeah, um … well, you know. You were gone and we went on a date.”

  “I see,” Bella said, her arms still firmly folded over her chest. “And …”

  “And nothing. It was just one date.”

  “And …?” Her voice trailed off as she gave me verbal cues to continue talking. Which wasn’t a good idea. Bad things happened when I spoke. Very bad things.

  Still, the gaze that met me clearly said there was no escaping this one. “And it ended with the world almost ending … again.”

  Bella lifted an eyebrow.

  “Tiamat. You know, the angry rampaging monster kind of thing. Seems that the gods may be gone, but their apocalypses aren’t.”

  “I see,” Bella said, her arms still locked together. “And …”

  “And the date ended with … well … with her getting killed.” As the words left my lips, I felt a pang of grief that I had previously locked away, hidden in a cupboard of my mind that I never opened. Saying it out loud, and to Bella, made it real again. “She died saving Paradise Lot,” I said. “She died a hero.”

  I can’t tell you the number of times I came home from some mission where a friend died, or someone I car
ed about had been horribly hurt. And no matter the circumstances, no matter how much Bella didn’t approve of what we’d been doing, she would always give me a hug and gentle kiss on my forehead. She’d give me that look of incomprehensible compassion that always helped me heal.

  But this time, Bella just gave Medusa a look that could fell a flock of doves, making it perfectly clear that peace wasn’t on the menu. She said in a cold voice that I had never known Bella to use before, “Good.”

  Then as if catching herself, her eyes widened in shock. “I didn’t mean to say that. I didn’t mean to think it. This place. This place is messing with me.” There was genuine fear in her voice.

  I reached out for her, but Bella shook her head and walked past me and over to her mother. She gave the once poltergeist a hug.

  Empty Hell …

  ↔

  So, I had one dead wife who was in Heaven but was now in Hell with me and acting weird. And one dead girlfriend who, when she died, somehow wound up in Hell (even though that shouldn’t be possible) with a severe case of PTSD.

  Night was falling and as we set up camp, I thought about how all I wanted to do since coming to this place was wait for the moment Judith fell asleep so that I could pull Bella aside and, well, to quote Ella Fitzgerald … make whoopee.

  But seeing the two of them in this place took all the whoopee-ness out of me.

  Ahh, make whoopee. I smirked to myself. By the GoneGods, I really needed to update my dirty vernacular. But the truth was, my doggiest self was PG-13 at best. One of the reasons Bella loved me—or at least, that’s what she’d said.

  What was on the cards was making peace with everyone, because if we were going to survive Hell, we needed to work together.

  Summoning my inner therapist, I said, “So, there’s a lot of feeling going on here.” And then I immediately regretted my opening. “A lot of elephants in this valley of a room. And as much as I’d like to address them …”—that’s a great thing to say. It’s not like they both don’t know me, and therefore know I’d rather have multiple, simultaneous root canals than group therapy—“we’re in Hell and Hell isn’t the best place to explore ourselves, is it?”

  Both Medusa and Bella shot me the same look—one that could have tripped up an army of charging dwarves. And given that Medusa was poisonous and Bella still had Thor’s hammer, I wasn’t exactly happy being on the other side of that gaze. Still, at least we were establishing common ground.

  Not that I was managing things better. But I had no idea what I would make this better. A group hug? A pow-wow where we could all explore our feelings?

  Neither spoke, and to fill the silence, I decided to keep digging myself a hole. “So as much I’d like to take the time to figure this out, we really have to keep moving.”

  Their gazes upgraded from death-inspiring ire to full-blown apocalyptic rage.

  “Ahh,” I stammered, “what I mean to say is—”

  “What he’s trying to say, ever so eloquently,” Judith butted in, “is that as much of a catch as he is”—she put just enough emphasis on the word catch to show how she really felt—“now is not the time to work out whatever issues you both are experiencing. And the truth is, I don’t think this has anything to do with Jean, anyway. Come on, girls—he does have his charms …”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  She lifted an I’m not done finger. “But they are far and few between. Both of you could do better, yet you’re hung up on him. Him? Why?” She caught both their eyes, strobing between the two before continuing. “Because we’re in Hell. A pig with a tie is a gentleman suitor here. But it’s more than that … I think this place is playing with our emotions, exaggerating them. Bringing out the uglier, more homicidal parts of us.” Both Medusa and Bella looked down at her last comment. “So maybe, just maybe, this has nothing to do with him and everything to do with this place manipulating your feelings. Is that at all possible, girls?”

  Medusa bit her lower lip in thought and Bella rubbed her hand against the side of her hip … their telltale signs of being deep in thought. After a long pause, they both nodded.

  “Good,” Judith said. “Because a catch this man is not. Now come along girls, let bygones be bygones. I think an apology is in order.”

  Medusa was the first to stand up. She walked over to Bella and said, “I’m sorry.” They were the first words the gorgon had spoken, and still fragile from everything that had happened, a tear rolled down her cheek.

  “Oh honey,” Bella said, pulling her in for a hug. “No, I’m sorry. I overreacted. This place is … awful. Simply awful. I can’t imagine what you must have gone through being here.” That was much more in line with the Bella I knew. “And my mother is right. Like she said, he does have his charms. As few and far between as they are.”

  Ouch.

  “Now you can thank me,” Judith said with a smirk.

  Abandoned Classrooms and Fresh Hells

  We rested for a few hours before moving. How long exactly, I have no idea—it wasn’t like there were any moving stars to judge by. But it was long enough to catch a catnap several yards away from Bella.

  Being in Hell sucked, but being in Hell like this sucked the big one and I thought, not for the first time, that this may be Penemue’s inferno, but he sure had spent some time customizing it just for me. Thanks, buddy!

  Somewhat rested and more frustrated than ever, we left Yomi’s dark forest with nary a creature in sight. I guess after seeing a bunch of gods run away from little ole us, no one dared to mess with us. Thank the GoneGods (and adolescent ones) for small miracles.

  ↔

  They say criminals always return to the scene of the crime. We weren’t criminals, but I did kind of feel like a burglar sneaking around in someone else’s house.

  A house we shouldn’t have been in … But then again, neither should its owner.

  And as for the crime scene, we went back to the classroom. Of course, we didn’t just run up the hill all cocky and brazen. We weren’t that stupid. We sent Marty up first, figuring if anyone could slither in unnoticed, it would be him.

  All the while, thoughts of Star Trek, disposable characters and red uniforms ran through my head, but I kept all that to myself.

  When Marty (and the other snakes) were a part of Medusa, she could see through their eyes as if they were her own. Seems that ability extended beyond attachment and Medusa could see through the viper’s eyes as if they were still attached. And even though the gorgon didn’t say as much, I was pretty sure that was how she found us … through Marty’s eyes.

  Thank the GoneGods for small miracles.

  So, using the serpent as a drone, we hid at the base of the hill and waited for a report. The way Medusa’s expression changed when Marty got to the classroom told us all we needed to know.

  No one was there.

  And no one would ever be there again.

  ↔

  Penemue’s classroom was destroyed, the desks broken, chairs smashed to kindling, the blackboard ripped to shreds with talon-like claw marks piercing the wood. Even the ground had been turned up, with powerful ridges running deep through the ground.

  There was nothing about this place that resembled the classroom it had once been.

  “What happened here?” Judith said more than asked. “Seems those spoiled little monsters took out their frustration on defenseless furniture when they couldn’t have their way with us.”

  “I don’t think so.” I shook my head. “I don’t think they came back here at all.”

  Judith lifted a curious eyebrow that was part What do you mean? and part You always have to be so contradictory.

  I ignored the look and continued staring at the carnage. “There are no tracks leading back up the mountain. Plenty going down, but none coming up.”

  Medusa nodded in agreement, and given that she was one of the legendary huntresses of myth, I figured I had gotten that one right.

  “Not all of them walk,” Judith pointed out. “Mayb
e some of them flew up here or teleported or did whatever gods do to get around.”

  Now who’s being contrary? I thought. “Maybe,” I shrugged. “But look at the claw marks on the blackboard. They’re four distinct marks, just like Penemue’s talon-hands. And the ground—similar marks of four that match Penemue’s feet.”

  Sifting through the debris, I imagined how the scene had unfolded. The children chased after us as Penemue called after them, begging them to stop—to assess—to use reason. But his cries were to no avail and the kids just booked it after us, embracing their more godly and destructive instincts.

  Even Adam and Eve had chased after us—so much for their humanity kicking in—which left Penemue all alone in his classroom.

  A classroom he’d built for one purpose: to educate the gods on how to treat humans. He was trying to mold their young minds and create a different relationship between humans and gods. A more enlightened one.

  And less likely to end up with the gods abandoning us all.

  But despite all his efforts (and despite his mind and desire actually creating this place), when put to the test, it all went to hell, figuratively speaking.

  So alone and having failed, Penemue destroyed this place. He—

  As I ran through the scenario, I saw exactly what I had been looking for: broken glass. Picking it up, I sniffed the shards and smelled exactly what I had expected: Drambuie.

  Penemue once told me that Drambuie was the closest thing mortals had to ambrosia.

  He also told me that he drank when he wanted to destroy it all. That he was an introspective drunk who knew that drinking was a form of slow suicide. A self-destruction that wasn’t a countdown from ten, but a version of Ninety-Nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall.

  Well, Nine Hundred and Ninety-Nine Bottles of Drambuie on the Wall. He wanted to see how far down he needed to get before his heart finally broke. “Why not?” he slurred while on a particularly terrible bender. “My heart has already figuratively broken. It’s only a matter of time until the old beating lump in my chest catches up with a more literal breakage.”