by R. E. Vance
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. “Maybe 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 a
nd 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.”
He must have said that to me during a hundred different nights while I helped the huge lug into the haystack he called a bed.
Literal breakage …
But no matter how much he drank, he was never violent. Don’t get me wrong … he had the capacity for violence. But only for a cause. Only when doing what he thought was right.
And smelling it here and now told me everything I needed to know. He had gone on a bender that culminated in the destruction of this place.
Which really worried me, because Penemue, in as much pain as he was, was never violent.
Seeing this place so thoroughly destroyed gave me shivers. The Penemue I knew would never do something like this, no matter how upset he was. No matter how drunk.
This destruction was something different. It was like he was giving up, embracing the hell he had condemned himself to. My only hope was that this carnage got whatever pent-up aggression he had out of him, that he was all out of destruction.
Medusa bent over to pick up a piece of desk. “So much sadness,” she said. “So much rage.” But from the way her voice trailed off, I knew she wasn’t just talking about Penemue. She was talking about herself, too.
The gorgon was one of the strongest people I’d ever met, but the person who stood in front of me was so broken that I couldn’t think of a way to fix her again. I suddenly found myself wishing I had some magical formula, something I could say or do that would make her whole again. Some key to unlock—
“What happened to you?” Bella asked, her eyes trained on the bald gorgon.
So, I guess we were going for the direct route.
Medusa didn’t say anything, looking away.
Bella approached Medusa, and with a gentle guiding hand on her chin, looked her in the eyes … the stone-turning, statue-making eyes. “Seriously, Jean here tells me you died. But here you are. What happened to you? How did you get here?”
Medusa shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“Come on, you must know something,” Bella said, her voice forceful, almost demanding. “And you’re not doing us any favors by holding back. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re in Hell and we need to get out. Anything you can tell us to help with that …” She let the words hang.
The gorgon tried to look away and Bella did something I didn’t think she was capable of … she held Medusa’s chin so she couldn’t look away.
“Bella,” I said, “you’re being too—”
“No,” Bella said, lifting a silencing hand. “I need to know. We need to know. What happened? How the hell did you get to Hell?”
“I … I …” Medusa started, pulling away. From the way Bella moved, I could see that she tried to keep her hold on the gorgon, but couldn’t.
Marty hissed, crawling up Medusa’s arm and giving Bella a look that clearly, and in no uncertain terms, said, Back off, bitch.
But Bella didn’t. “Come on! We need to know. How the fuck are you here?”
“Bella,” Judith said, “please. Now is not the time.”
“Now is exactly the time. Now is the only time. If you haven’t noticed, we’re stuck in now. And this … this Other knows shit we don’t. Now tell us, how did you get here?” Bella hand settled on Thor’s hammer like she was deciding whether or not to unsling the weapon and … what? Charge at Medusa?
I didn’t know if this was some kind of jealous ploy or if Bella was overwhelmed by the stress of this place, but this was getting serious.
“Bella,” I said, stepping between them, “stop this. Now. Whatever you’re trying to do, this isn’t the way.”
“Oh look, Jean-Luc Matthias the hero. Stepping in to save the damsel in distress. Look at you.”
“What?” I said, feeling a rage of my own coursing through me.
“Big man. Trying to save the world, but can’t even keep his date alive. You couldn’t keep me alive. I died because of you. I died. I died. I died!” Fury flashed in Bella’s eyes as she grabbed the hammer’s hilt. She only needed to turn it around and it would be in her hands and—
Medusa stepped between us, grabbing Bella’s forearms so she couldn’t move, and yelled, “You don’t touch him. He tried to save me. To save us all. That’s all he does.”
“What does he do? Fail?” Bella said, trying to break free.
I felt my own anger rush through me, and reaching for the two women, I sought to get between them. But before I was able to take two steps in their direction, I felt a kinetic blast shoot across the plane and push me back a dozen feet.
Looking up, I saw Judith had used her poltergeist rage to push me back. I guess she may have lost her specter façade, but not her ghostly powers. “You don’t touch my little girl,” my mother-in-law screamed. “You don’t get to ever touch her again.”
“You bitch.” I picked up a piece of rock and threw it at her. I was aiming for her head and if she hadn’t let out another blast of kinetic energy, I would have hit her square in the eyes.
“Don’t you hurt my mother!” Bella broke away from Medusa and pulled out the hammer.
Fine, I thought with spiteful rage, I guess it’s time to have a good ol’ family argument.
Family Fights, Pain and (a Modicum) of Gain
Without a second thought, I got to my feet and tackled Judith. I wanted to throw her down the friggin’ hill, smash her head into the cold, hard earth, feel my hands around her neck.
But before I could wrap my fingers around her pudgy, wrinkled neck, a hand pulled me back. Turning, I saw that Bella had hoisted me off Judith. “You ungrateful bitch,” I spat. “You would pick her over me?”
“I’d … I’d … I’d pick”—Bella looked around, her gaze settling on the splintered leg of one of the desks—“this piece of wood over you. At least this knows when to shut up.” She tossed it at me like a spear.
“How dare you—” I started, but Bella wasn’t done, throwing Thor’s hammer at me. The flat part of its top smacked my chest like a cannonball and it took everything I had not to pass out from the pain.
But unlike Thor’s hammer in the movies, the thing didn’t fly back to her hand. Instead, it lay before me like a … well, a big hammer lies on the ground.
I picked it up, ready to smash Bella’s pretty little face with it, when Medusa quite literally beat me to the punch. She socked Bella in the side of the face with a balled fist. “You leave him alone.”
Before the gorgon could cock her fist back for another blow, Judith jumped on Medusa’s back and—oh crap—bit her ear. My mother-in-law was getting all Mike Tyson on her. Go Judith!
No wait, that’s not what I meant. Medusa was on my side.
But Medusa left me. Just like Bella. They both left me, choosing death over me.
Just like my mother.
And everyone I’d ever loved.
An incredible emptiness consumed my soul, and I had one prevailing thought running through my head over and over and over again.
End my pain by first ending theirs.
I was going to kill them all, and then I was going to kill myself.
↔
Hoisting the hammer over my head, I slammed it down on the ground. I had expected the damn thing to emit a shockwave of energy that would send everyone flying.
Instead, it just hit the earth with a heavy thud, sans shockwave or energy or any effect at all.
That wasn’t entirely true. The three of them stopped fighting long enough to look at me with disgust before continuing to pummel each other.
OK, so shock and awe wasn’t going to work.
What about a good ol’-fashioned bludgeoning? Grabbing Thor’s hammer again, I formulated a plan: hit each one of them with the damn thing. So, not much of plan, but a plan nonetheless. The only question was who I should hit first.
Just as I was about to play a quick game of Eeny, Meeny, Miny, Moe, I felt a sharp pain in my right calf. Looking down, I saw Marty had bit me. I stomped down on the serpent. “There’s a reason why the Bible explicitly gives humans permission to crush serpents beneath our heel,” I said. “It’s because you guys are so … so …” But before I could say anything else, the world started to spin and I fell to the ground.
So this was how I’d die … taken down by a devious, poisonous viper I’d thought was my friend. Figures. Friends—when they weren’t letting you down, they were trying to kill you.
The last thing I saw from my horizontal position was Marty biting Bella, then Judith. Oh good, I thought. At least they’re going down, too.
↔
But I didn’t die, as evidenced by the pounding headache I felt when I woke up only the GoneGods knew how much later.
