The Dark Side of Heaven

by Gord Rollo

  Jacko faked a stab low then clumsily went for a thrust into Tyrone’s chest that the Marine seen coming from miles away. The soldier smoothly stepped to his left and scissor chopped the tall man above and below the wrist he held the Ka-bar in, hard enough to nearly shatter both bones. Jacko cried out in pain, his wrist going instantly numb and causing him to drop the knife on his very first attack. He staggered backward, holding his injured right hand against his chest, his eyes as big as dinner plates from how easily the Marine had disarmed him. Tyrone smiled and bent over to retrieve his Ka-bar. It felt nice back in his hand again; like a long anticipated reunion between two good friends who’d been separated for far too long.

  Twirling the razor sharp blade in his fingers, he pointed its business end toward Jacko and softly said, “My turn.”

  The blood rushed from Jacko’s face and he started backing away from Tyrone, his hands held before him in a plea for mercy. The Marine knew he had the coward exactly where he wanted him, worried for his life, and he was sure the man would give them the information they needed to find their way to Heaven.

  “We’re gonna have ourselves a little chat, Jacko? Answer my questions like a good boy and I might let you worm your way out of here when I’m done. Got it?”

  “Sure,” the thin man said, still backing away but ready to agree to almost anything that might save his worthless hide. “Whatever you need, soldier. Just…just put that knife away, okay? There’s no need for things to get crazy here.”

  Tyrone agreed and in the time it took for him to look down at his belt to slide the Ka-bar back into its normal holder, Jacko had back-peddled precariously close to the rim of the deep pit, his attention apparently still glued to the Marine and likely trying to think of a way out of the mess he found himself in.

  “Watch out!” Tyrone said once he saw what was about to happen, but it was already too late to stop it.

  Jacko took one last step backward and the ground around him caved in, a two foot section of soil and loose rock tearing loose from the cliff face around his feet and disappearing out over the edge, taking the thin henchman along with it. Tyrone ran as close to the edge as he dared but there was nothing left for him to see. Jacko was gone.

  “We’ll that’s just great,” Tommy’s voice called out from behind him. Tyrone turned to see his brother and the rest of them coming up the stairs and gathering over by the ramshackle hut. “So much for not worrying, huh? Thought you were going to talk to him before you killed him?”

  “I was…I mean, I did,” Tyrone defended himself. “I had him scared and ready to talk but the ground gave away under him. He was gone before I could warn him.”

  “Don’t sweat it, bro. I saw what happened. Wasn’t your fault. Just not sure what we’re going to do now?”

  “What’s problem?” the small Vietnamese woman asked, looking tired and frail as she held her little boy’s hand.

  “Nothin’ lady,” Tommy said. “We had just hoped that man might be able to point us in the right direction from here, ya know?”

  The woman turned her gaze on Tyrone. She didn’t exactly look happy. “You mean you not know where you are going? You risk our afterlives taking us here and you not even know which direction Heaven be in?”

  Tyrone was about to apologize to all of them, admit he was just making this plan up as he was going along but suddenly he remembered something and it put a smile on his face. They needed someone that knew his way around here; someone good with directions. Luckily Tyrone knew just the man.

  “Nothing to worry about, ma’am. Things are under control. I know a little guy that’ll be happy to help us.”

  17

  Thirty minutes later, back in the darkened halls of Tartarus, Luther Bachman hurried across the royal bed chamber to perform the unpleasant task of waking the Scarlet Witch. Interrupting her beauty sleep was bad enough but it was what he had to tell her that worried him more. Still, the longer he hesitated, the worse he knew things would get, and more importantly the easier it would be for her to find a way to place the blame on him for what had happened.

  She was alert and sitting up before Luther made it half way across the luxurious oriental carpet, her fiery eyes burning like hot coals in the windowless room. The witch’s aid swallowed the lump in his throat and moved to the side of her bed.

  “What’s wrong?” the witch asked, her tone cold, angry at having been disturbed.

  “I’m sure it’s nothing, my lady, but it seems that a few of our guests have attempted an escape. One guard was knocked unconscious and still can’t be revived and another man had his neck broken, but hopefully things will soon be under control.”

  “Under control? Does that mean they’ve been captured? Bring them to me!”

  “Umm…they haven’t actually been found quite yet, but security has assured me it’s only a matter of time.”

  “Who’s missing? How many?”

  This was the part the witch wasn’t going to like; the question Luther had been dreading. “It’s the new Marine, my lady. Tyrone Banks. His brother Thomas as well. Looks like the soldier planned this from the minute he got here.”

  A low growl escaped the witch’s throat, her demon eyes flaring even brighter in the darkness. “Anyone else?”

  “Yes, ma’am, but they’re harmless. A young swede named Henrik Lasson who’s a nobody that just happened to be in the same cell as the Marine and a Vietnamese mother named Phan Huong and her son Gia who were in the cell the dead guard’s body was found in. No one seems to know how they fit into things.”

  “Have someone check the bridge? Quickly! See if the guard’s are--”

  “I already have, my lady. Everything’s fine. The night guards are still at their station patrolling the bridge and they haven’t seen a thing. I talked to both of them and they said it’s been a quiet night. No one has tried to get to the stairs.”

  “Good,” the witch said, relaxing a little. “That’s excellent news, Luther. That means they’re still holed up somewhere inside the fortress.”

  “Exactly! They can’t stay hidden for long. What are your orders?”

  “Triple the guards on the bridge, just to be sure, and then have the rest of security search every damn cell, room, and broom closet in Tartarus. Find all five of the bastards but bring the two brothers directly to me. I’ll be waiting in my throne room. Move!”

  Luther didn’t need to be told twice.

  18

  It felt great being back out on the open roads, the air cooler and noticeably cleaner in Tyrone’s lungs with every step they took further away from the smoke and stench of the underground fortress. They’d been walking for at least an hour since leaving the Gateway to Tartarus and witnessing the henchman Jacko’s unfortunate demise. Under normal circumstances, Tyrone and Tommy would have easily covered the six miles back to the crossroads he was heading for; might have been there half an hour ago, but travelling with the frail woman and boy had slowed their forward progress down to a snail’s pace. Normally that wouldn’t be a problem and Tyrone wouldn’t expect them to be able to keep up but he was starting to worry what might happen if and when they were eventually pursued. If a group of fit and fast men were put on their tail, they’d chew up the distance between them in a hurry. Thank God they’d at least been lucky enough to get a decent head start. They were probably going to need it.

  Although Tyrone had no watch to go by, his internal clock told him it still had to be another few hours until morning; give or take half an hour. The wee hours of the morning or not, the night sky up here on ground level was surprisingly bright and easy to navigate by even without the customary presence of a moon or any overhead stars. The murky golden glow the Marine had found so strange several days ago when he’d first arrived was still coloring the horizon but it was noticeable dimmer than Tyrone remembered. He wondered if it ever truly got dark here. Perhaps the intensity of the golden glow was the only way of differentiating between night and day?

  Slowing his stride so he c
ould drop back and talk with the Vietnamese woman, Tyrone let his brother and Henrik set the pace for a while. Maybe he could find a way to help her speed up a little. If it came to it, he could pick her or the boy up and carry them faster than they were moving now. He just couldn’t carry both, though at this point it might seriously be worth trying.

  “We really need to move a little faster, ma’am,” the Marine said to her. “I know you and the boy are tired but we can’t afford to stop and rest. Not yet, anyway. Maybe I could carry the boy on my shoulders for a while. You know…give him a little break.”

  “I don’t think he trust you enough yet. He remember you too, yes? He’s been asking me why momma, why we go away with you of all people? I told him you helping us but he’s not so sure. Neither am I, to be honest.”

  Tyrone couldn’t think of anything to say to that. If he were in their shoes, he probably wouldn’t trust him either.

  “My son’s name is Gia, if you care. Phan Van Gia. And my name is Phan Thi Huong.”

  The Marine was well aware that in Vietnamese culture, the family name always came first, then the middle; the given name last. He also knew from his training that ‘Phan’ was one of the most common family names in use, nearly as popular as ‘Dang’ or ‘Nguyen’. Whether it helped their situation or not, it made Tyrone feel slightly better to finally have names to put to the faces that had haunted him for so long.

  “Of course I care. Having this chance to meet and help you and Gia means more to me than you know. My name is Tyrone Banks. Tommy is my brother and the Swedish man is named Henrik. Sorry we didn’t have time for introductions earlier.”

  Huong nodded slightly, being respectful but clearly not ready to believe anything the young Marine had to say. It was far too early for that. Gia was watching the entire exchange carefully; semi-hiding behind his mother’s hip as they walked but never taking his eyes off of Tyrone for a moment; even if he didn’t understand the language they were speaking. The Marine couldn’t decide if the boy was still terrified of him or perhaps just fascinated that their murderer was for some unknown reason now trying to help them. Probably a little bit of both.

  “Listen, Huong; there’s nothing I can say that can change your opinion of me or fix the damage I’ve done in the past. My mother always used to tell me that talk is cheap and that it’s people’s actions that show you what kind of person they are. Not sure if you agree with that, but it’s the way I was raised and it’s the way I’m hoping to make things up to you and Gia.”

  “And you think if you take us to Nirvana it somehow wipes clear the past and all is forgiven?”

  “No. Not at all. This isn’t about me in any way. I don’t care what happens to me. I’m doing this for you and your son, and also for Tommy and Henrik. You guys were all good people in the real world and you deserve a second chance here in the afterlife; a chance to find peace and happiness and contentment. Henrik was sick for a long time before he died. I didn’t know him but I still think he deserved better than the pain and suffering fate chose for him. With you guys it’s even worse. Fate didn’t have anything to do with your deaths. It was me who robbed you and Gia and Tommy of your futures and I don’t care what it takes I plan on giving you the second chance you deserve. That’s the only thing that matters to me now.”

  Huong thought the Marine’s words over for a long moment before finally answering. “And what about you, Mr. Banks? When this is all said and done…what do you think you deserve? Is there no hope of a second chance for you?”

  It was a good question; a fair question, but one that Tyrone honestly had no answer for. They walked on in silence.

  19

  The little red haired man didn’t know he was in trouble until it was already too late. Tyrone used his size 11 boot to roughly kick him off his bench at the intersection of the crossroads, where up until a few seconds ago he’d been peacefully snoring. Tyrone hadn’t been sure if the British thug had been armed or not, so he’d told the rest of his party to hang back over the last hill while he snuck up as quietly as possible to take care of the situation. Now that he had the small man on his backside and harmless, he motioned to Tommy to bring everyone forward.

  “What was your name again?” Tyrone asked. “Was it Frankie?”

  The little man struggled to his feet, eyes darting every direction at once, seemingly astonished that someone might be able to sneak up on him to begin with, but even more so when he looked up to see who it was. Recognition mingled with fear on his face but he quickly covered those emotions up and put on a decent game face.

  “It’s Freddy, actually. What do you want, soldier boy? What did I ever do to you to deserve a kick like that?”

  Tyrone laughed. Was this little bastard serious? The Marine could point to the large welt on the back of his head that was still painful to touch from where Freddy had clobbered him with a tree branch several days back, but the Marine couldn’t be bothered. He didn’t have time to screw around with a rotten little troll like this.

  “I’ll kick you a lot harder than that if you waste my time, friend. I need some answers and it’ll go a lot smoother if you just co-operate.”

  “Why should I let myself be pushed around by you, mate? Who do you think you are? You think I’m scared of--”

  Tyrone was through playing games. He drew out his Ka-bar knife and waved it around in a circle in front of Freddy’s chubby face. That shut the little bugger up in a hurry.

  “If I were you, I’d choose my next words carefully. I’m running out of time here and I’ve got nothing left to lose. You do, though; starting with your eyes. Then maybe I’ll take off your whole fucking head. Understand?”

  “Umm…yes sir. What can I help you with?”

  “Much better! Okay. I’ve promised my friends I’d take them for a stroll over to the gates of Heaven and I’ve told them you’re just the man to help us with directions.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  Tyrone showed him the razor sharp knife again. “Does it look like I’m kidding? Start talking.”

  “I can’t. I don’t know how you managed to get out of Tartarus, but the Scarlet Witch will strip the skin from my bones if she hears that I helped you.”

  “You’d rather I do it for you before she gets here?” Tyrone took a step closer to the short man, but his eyes went wide with fear and he held up his hands in surrender.

  “Hold on a minute. We can work something out. I’m sure of it.”

  “I’m sure of it too. The only question is whether we’re gonna do it the easy way or the hard. Either’s fine with me. What do you think?”

  “Okay, okay. You win, mate. Relax.”

  “Which direction are we walking, and how far is it?”

  Freddy’s eyes kept moving from the Marine’s face to his knife, to the group of people standing behind him, searching for a way out of his present situation but it was clear there was no easy way out of this mess. With a sigh of regret, he decided the best course of action was to start talking.

  “You take that road there,” pointing toward the path on Tyrone’s left.

  “Isn’t that the same road I walked down when I first met you? You better not be lying or I swear to--”

  “I’m not lying for God’s sake. And yes, that’s the way you came from. I don’t know why you came from that direction and still don’t but on my life that’s the road toward Heaven.”

  “How far?”

  “Ten or twelve miles. You need to find Glacier Lake first. Follow that road to the lake and you’re almost there.”

  Tyrone looked closely at the little man, not trusting him in the least, but for some reason he was fairly certain Freddy was telling him the true. He was too afraid to lie to him and rats like this always took the easiest path to cover their own butts. Freddy was no hero and there was no way he’d risk his life to do a favor for the witch.

  “Okay. I’m going to trust you, Freddy, but if you’ve screwed me, I’m coming back to find you.”

&nbs
p; “No worries, my friend. I’m telling the truth. Promise.”

  “Okay. Thanks. We’ll get out of your hair now.” Tyrone put his knife away and held out his hand to say goodbye. Freddy obviously didn’t want to shake it but if it would make the Marine and his friends go away without hurting him he was willing to do anything.

  “Best of luck to you,” Freddy said, reaching out to take Tyrone’s offered hand.

  The Marine pulled back at the last second and drove his fist into the little man’s chin, knocking Freddy senseless, his body collapsing to the ground in a heap.

  “Vat did you do that for,” Henrik asked from behind. “Vas that to buy us some time again?”

  “Not really, no. I just felt like it. Come on, let’s get moving…”

  ***

  Freddy kept his eyes closed and laid perfectly still, keeping up the ruse that he was unconscious until he could no longer hear the voices or footsteps of any of the people who’d just left. Once he was sure he was completely alone, the little man opened his eyes and carefully sat up. The Marine had hit him square in the jaw, and hit him damn hard too but Freddy hadn’t survived this long in a big man’s afterworld by being soft. He was a tough little bugger and prided himself in being able to take a punch from anyone and give his own right back. Only this time he hadn’t fought back; he’d taken a dive and pretended to be out like a light because tough as he was, he was smart enough to know it had been a fight he didn’t stand a chance of winning. His best option – realistically his only option – was to play possum and live to scrap another day.

  Better yet, he’d let other people take up the battle for him.

  Climbing to his feet, Freddy dusted off his pants and went in search of the walkie-talkie he always kept hidden in the branches of the nearby tree in case of emergency. If this situation wasn’t considered an emergency than the little man had no idea what would. He grabbed the two-way radio transceiver and pulled out the thin metal antenna with his teeth as he set the dial on the front to the channel that would get him directly into the witch’s fortress. Somebody there was going to be in big, big trouble.