by Tony Moyle
“Are you coming down or not?” Brimstone asked as he disappeared through the previously concealed entrance.
The scene that greeted John, when he’d finally made the decision to follow his demon guide, was a very different one than he’d been used to in his brief experience of the levels above. The entrance led into a vast underground forest, dimly lit but magnificently real. Trees stretched upwards towards the heavens and a carpet of fragrant-smelling flowers, that sheltered under their canopies, were joined by an assortment of coloured fauna that circled all around him. The deep solitude and anxiety that had weighed so heavily on him for the majority of his death evaporated like a cheap perfume. He could not adequately describe how he felt, but he knew that here, underneath the horror, there was a degree of peace.
“Welcome to level zero,” said Brimstone, breaking John’s calm.
“What is this place?” asked John quietly.
“It’s where we keep the…well…anomalies that we receive,” replied Brimstone cautiously. “The victims of the Limpet Syndrome are brought here. We like to call it the zoo. Now all we need to do is find him.”
“Who do we need to find?”
“Primordial.”
“Who’s he?” asked John nervously.
“He’s responsible for managing level zero. I haven’t seen him since he first created this place.”
As they strolled gradually through the undergrowth they weren’t sure if it was the enchantment of the place or their own intuition that created a sense within them that they were not alone. John had convinced himself that a bush had just rustled to his left, but as he peered closer any movement was non-existent. They ambled through the grass, occasionally stopping to examine some exquisite new find, adventurous, carefree children on a voyage of discovery. A golden eagle swooped down from an unseen eyrie, landing on a withered beech tree, thick and ancient, grown from a seed planted at the dawn of this place. Several metres above them, the eagle bobbed its head up and down, scowling at the two new figures that had just trespassed into its world.
“Is that one of them?” John tapped Brimstone gently on the shoulder, whispering out of the corner of his mouth and pointing up at the bird of prey. Brimstone’s attention had been focused elsewhere.
“Am I one of what?”
“What did you say?” John asked Brimstone.
“Nothing,” replied Brimstone.
“I said, what do you mean, one of them?” repeated the voice indignantly.
Very slowly John looked around, hoping to find the source of the voice elsewhere. It was clear that it had come from the eagle and no one else.
“Hello,” John said hesitantly, raising a hand in the air to wave in greeting. “Was that you who spoke?”
“Of course it was. My name’s Malcolm Truman and if by one of them you mean a reincarnate, then yes, I am one,” said the Eagle, gripping the branch with his long, dangerous talons.
“Did you know that they could talk?” John whispered again from the corner of his mouth, as if not to draw the eagle’s attention or in some way offend it.
“No. Fascinating, isn’t it?” replied Brimstone, depicting an interested botanist that had suddenly discovered an exciting new species.
“Why are you two here?” asked Malcolm the eagle.
“We are looking for Primordial,” replied Brimstone.
As Brimstone spoke, a giraffe’s head poked out of the dense thicket of trees just to the right of where John and Brimstone had been conversing with a bird.
“What’s going on, Malcolm?” asked the giraffe, his voice muffled slightly by the clump of leaves on which it was currently munching.
“They’re looking for Primordial, Alan.”
“I haven’t seen Primordial for a while. Didn’t he go on holiday?” offered Alan.
“I don’t think demons go on holiday,” Malcolm replied, raising his eyes to John as if to indicate that Alan was not quite all there. “By the way, how’s your friend, Penelope: she managed to remove her trunk yet?”
“I don’t like to interrupt,” said John, raising his hand in an attempt to get in on the conversation.
“No, she had to have it chopped off. I told her not to go sniffing around in the crocodile pond, but she wouldn’t listen…”
“STOP!” shouted John. “I can’t deal with this. I’m watching a conversation between a giraffe and an eagle. This day is just too weird. What’s next? I suppose that muddy puddle over there is about to get up and do a tap-dance?”
John’s eyes hadn’t just been opened, as Brimstone had warned, they’d been removed from their sockets and violently stamped on. Unfortunately John’s sanity wasn’t improved by what happened next. The patch of mud on the path in front of them was moving. It wasn’t just moving, it was getting up.
“What are the odds on that?” John commented. “Usually I’m rubbish at predictions.”
A muddy, disjointed arm emerged from the ground, grappling forward onto the path to secure its grip. The arm pulled itself along the ground, quickly followed by a head, and then finally a body lurched out in front of them. Before long, the full figure was standing upright, dripping and oozing on the ground a few feet in front of them. It was a humanoid shape but with no obvious features, a mass of filth and dirt from head to foot.
“I understand you want me, Brimstone,” said the creature, gliding forward with a path of detritus in its wake. “It’s been a long time since we have had a visit from those above. Do I guess that we are due a new specimen?”
As he spoke, more creatures started to mingle around the clearing, excited that for the first time in a long while something new was happening on level zero.
“You are correct, Primordial. We have another case that will need your attention, a couple of new animals for your zoo,” replied Brimstone. “This is the man who has been chosen for the task. Say hello, John.”
“H..e..l..l..o,” John stuttered, mouth agog at the thing that was Primordial.
“Who the hell picked this one? He doesn’t even seem capable of speaking properly. You’ve chosen an idiot for a job that requires someone truly brilliant,” replied Primordial, his voice gurgling out of some unknown orifice.
John suddenly came to his senses. As much as he was finding it hard to accept his surroundings, he couldn’t but be annoyed that he was being mocked by a pile of mud.
“I’m sure that I am as capable as anyone,” John said defensively.
“Then you are misinformed,” replied Primordial. “You can’t possibly understand what you are about to be subjected to. Are you prepared to have your soul, your very existence, forced backwards through the heart of the Universe? Ready to be manipulated so that you see all of your past mistakes replayed in front of you? To be subjected to a degree of pain that you could never imagine was possible?”
This certainly wasn’t the way that Brimstone had painted it. But it was a bit late to complain or ask for a refund.
“Look, Primordial, let’s not jump the gun here, don’t forget the safety of their Universe is on the line,” replied Brimstone.
“Exactly, then you understand my concern.”
Primordial had moved closer to John so that they were face to filth. Primordial was a zoo all of his own. John could see an army of tiny organisms growing and living symbiotically in the muddy, sticky flesh of his form. Primordial had no recognisable eyes, but even so, John could feel their glare burning into him.
“The job you have received has previously been conducted by some of the wisest and cleverest members of the human race. What is it that you did on Earth to merit such company?”
“I was a meteorologist,” replied John, feeling inadequate.
“Well, it’s not the usual benchmark for those that have preceded him.” Primordial stared at Brimstone. “I’m used to luminaries. This is a nobody. I wonder whether he can do it.”
“He is the one, as it is written,” replied Brimstone.
“Really? We will soon see, won’t we?” repli
ed Primordial. “So, what is it that you want from me?”
“We need to know how to recognise the target, what they have become,” replied Brimstone.
“Another sign of his unsuitability. Most people can work it out for themselves. I think a test is in order, come with me,” signalled Primordial, his body instantly collapsing to the floor to create a small, muddy river that meandered into the distance.
Brimstone and John followed a few feet behind as Primordial slithered through the undergrowth and around tree stumps that blocked his route. When they reached a clearing in the trees he stopped and reverted to his humanoid form. A number of animals had collected around a small stone cairn, excitedly waiting for the curtain to rise and the show to start.
“This cairn was the first habitat I made on this level. Built to shelter the very first of its inhabitants, Li Xeng. Level zero spread from this central point, evolving into all the different habitats needed for those that were brought to me. Lakes to the north of here for the aquatic species, arid lands to the east, Arctic conditions to the west, and the forests to the south that you have already seen. Everything here was created by my hand,” explained Primordial, clearly proud of what he had built. A Hell for animals that was both his creation and his domain.
The ability to create so many habitats that were as fake as they were impressively realistic was no mean feat. This place had a beauty about it. A place that had been fashioned with care and attention to detail. The rest of Hell was devoid of anything other than desperation. Was that why very few demons came here? Perhaps this area was as alien to them as the levels above were to him? Or maybe because Primordial was as much the lord of this realm as Satan was the governor of those above it?
Primordial lifted a rock from the top of the cairn. It almost disappeared into his body as the life forms under his skin crawled out and over it like a swarm of bees. He threw the rock into the air, where it landed in the middle of the clearing with a thud. What was Primordial trying to accomplish? Eventually he could hear and feel the ground under his feet shift and move. A mound of earth pushed upwards onto the surface of the ground until a mole’s head popped out from the centre. Primordial leaned down to the mole’s level.
“Greetings, Bert.”
“How can I serve you, master?” replied the mole.
“If you want to know how to recognise a reincarnated soul, let’s see if you can prove your worthiness, John. What do you notice that is different with Bert, compared to a normal mole?”
John, further annoyed with Primordial’s constant references to his inability, was more determined than ever to take on Brimstone’s task and prove them wrong. Was this what Primordial was aiming to do? John assessed the mole trying to identify the differences. One was obvious.
“Well, most moles on Earth don’t have red spots all over their faces.”
“Correct, but not hugely insightful. A four-year-old could have told me that. Take a note, Brimstone, for reference when you are next choosing candidates. What else?”
John tried again. What else was different? As a whole he was very much like…well, a mole. John looked at the other animals that had collected around the clearing. Of the creatures that had congregated, a white rabbit was hopping around trying to get it on with any other animal that it came into contact with. A monkey was swinging through the branches from tree to tree, and an ant was scurrying around on the top of the cairn. That’s when it struck him. The cairn was about fifteen feet away but he could clearly see the ant. Surely he shouldn’t be able to.
“The animals are bigger than they should be?” John said out loud, although not intending to do so.
“I’m mildly impressed,” replied Primordial. “You’re right of course. The animals are all about a third bigger than the average for their species.”
“Why is that?” asked Brimstone, protecting John from asking the very same question.
“When the human soul enters an animal it tends to enter at or before the creature’s birth. The presence of the human soul, the mass of energy fighting for free space, seems to accelerate the growth of the animal. The smaller the animal, the bigger the growth. We have a great white shark down here called Xavier, who’s hardly any bigger than normal. But for most they would appear much bigger than normal.”
“That’s great, now I know how to recognise Sandy and Ian. There is one teeny-weeny thing that might still be a problem,” replied John calmly.
“What’s that?” asked Primordial.
“I don’t know what animal they’ve been reincarnated into,” John shouted angrily, as if Primordial had been wasting his time. Difficult to do in a place where your time doesn’t exist, mind you!
“I can’t help you with that, there’s only one person who can,” said Primordial.
“I’m sorry, are you telling me that after all of your bullshit, all your taunting, you don’t know where they’ve gone either? You actually don’t know any more than I do.”
Primordial sank into the ground completely disappearing from view and for several minutes nothing happened. John and Brimstone wondered if Primordial was gone for good. Just as they were about to give up and return to level one, Primordial soared out through the Earth, right under John’s feet, totally engulfing him. In complete darkness, John could feel Primordial all over his false body, the organisms that lived inside crawling over him, through his hair and on his skin. Creatures oozed into his mouth, attempting to infiltrate his body and suck out his life force. The sensation was one of the most unpleasant feelings that John had ever experienced, even more unpleasant than death itself.
“Remember who you are talking to, John?”
Primordial’s voice enveloped him in the darkness, harsh and dangerous. Struggling for air, each gulp followed by a heavy dose of filth down the white funnel of his vessol.
“Don’t you know what I am? I was created from the first pool of life that gave birth to the organisms in the Universe. I’m the creator and taker of life. The bringer of death, the decomposer of flesh. Dead or not, I could consume you. If you succeed or fail you had better wish you never have the misfortune to meet me again, John. You have no idea how painful that might be. I do not know what your target has become because it is not of my doing. Let’s hope you have the wits enough to find out yourself. I spoke of one who knows. His name is Laslow Kreicher.”
Primordial slid away from his body, disappearing into the ground for the final time, allowing John to gasp at the fresh air. John hit the soft mud, struggling to find some type of normality. Brimstone loomed above him, something he was unaccustomed to doing.
“I think you might have pissed him off, John.”
- CHAPTER NINE -
ONE IN A BILLION
“That went rather well,” commented Brimstone as they emerged back through the trapdoor of the dried-out lake.
“What!?” replied a flabbergasted John. “I almost drowned in the filth of a demon.”
“Yes, but you didn’t, which was a much better result than I was expecting.” Brimstone pressed the button, which allowed the water to collapse from around its banks and submerge the route that they had just taken.
“I’m sorry, you thought we wouldn’t be coming out again?”
“No, not quite. I thought you wouldn’t be coming out again! Primordial doesn’t care if you’re human or animal, but he wouldn’t harm a demon. In the past all the demons who have dared to take someone else down there have come out on their own. He’s a nasty piece of work, but I could handle him,” replied Brimstone, a degree of arrogance in his voice.
“There was me thinking you were on my side,” said John, shooting Brimstone a disconsolate frown.
“I’m not on your side, John. I just don’t want your Universe to crumble around my ears and suck everything into an infinitely dense void. As long as that doesn’t happen, your final destiny doesn’t concern me.”
“But surely we are outside of my Universe: this place would remain untouched, wouldn’t it?”
“That’s true, but without your Universe there are no humans. Without humans there are no souls. Without souls we have no reason for being, nothing to fuel us, nothing to feed on,” replied Brimstone, in a distressingly cannibalistic manner, as if he would have quenched his insatiable thirst on John’s soul right now if he hadn’t been sanctioned not to. As he clumped awkwardly towards a block of stone that rose up through the middle of level one, for the first time John felt a sense of unease towards this once seemingly harmless character.
“Now I understand. You don’t care about my Universe or anything in it. You just want to save yourselves. As long as you get your fix, is that it? Everyone else can rot,” replied John, realising there was no real help in this vast, desolate place and ultimately the only one who cared enough to save humanity was him.
“That’s about right. What would you have me do, John? Repent? Fall on my knees and beg forgiveness? I can physically or spiritually do neither, even if I wanted to,” countered Brimstone, his patience in dealing with a mortal stretching thinner by the second. “So, you know the question, what’s your answer?”
John hadn’t really decided for sure what the best choice was. Primordial certainly hadn’t painted a very pleasant picture of what would happen if he said yes, and the alternative of doing nothing didn’t sound like a blast either. On the bright side, if he was successful he had the chance of getting out of this place forever.
“I’ll do it,” said John begrudgingly, glancing around a final time at the alternative.
“Good,” replied Brimstone. “Okay, let’s go to the library and decide where we are going to put you.”
John was almost able to ignore the deafening cries of terror and pain that accompanied their stroll along the lowest level of Hell. How in the world was he going to be put, as Brimstone described it, back on Earth? They entered a steel-based lift, now visible in the face of the stone column towards which Brimstone had been leading them. A list of numbers that ascended from one to twelve on a crudely chiselled keypad crept down the furthest wall. A steaming hand reached up and pressed number eleven.
