by Tim Hawken
Nobody spoke. The silence among us was oppressive. It was like the moment before something terrible happens in a horror movie and everyone in the theatre is holding their breath for the impact. It went on and on and nothing happened. Still no one let out a sigh of relief. We all knew the impact would come. I only hoped that since the world was so big, maybe Asmodeus would not notice us until it was too late. Perhaps he had foreseen this already and was just biding his time. The sense of being watched started to prickle under my skin. Maybe it was just paranoia.
Finally, our party surfaced onto a flat opening, which had two huge rocks on either side. The pathway led to a short drop which hung above the sea. It was night. A scatter of boulders spread out into the murky Mediterranean waters with its swirls of whitewater frothing amid the rocks below. There were no clouds overhead. A crescent moon hung in the dark navy sky. Dots of stars twinkled above. To the rest of the world this was just another peaceful evening in secluded, southern Greece. Over to the right, a lighthouse sat perched, overlooking its keep. A few boats, with lights on deck, were scattered on the horizon. None ventured close to shore.
“What now, Captain?” Smithy asked me in a whisper at my shoulder.
What now, indeed, I thought. We had been focusing so hard on the more complex details of this mission that the simple things hadn’t been discussed. We had a least plotted our course in Mary’s Chamber of Maps. It was a matter of getting from here to Israel, which lay in a direct southeast line, eight hundred miles away. The fastest way would be to fly, but I didn’t want to draw any unnecessary notice. Seven bodies shooting through the air wouldn’t only garner attention from Heaven; Israel’s anti-missile defence systems would also potentially pick us up. I didn’t want to be attacked on all sides. I also didn’t want to deplete my energy for more important battles. The slower, yet lower profile crossing by boat would have to be the answer. I could easily manifest a vessel big enough to hold all of us, powering it with a surreptitious elemental wind. However, at a top speed of twenty knots or so, it would still take us almost two full days to get there. At least we would have plenty of time to plan our next move once we hit land.
SEVEN
CALM WATERS LAPPED THE SIDES OF OUR BOAT as we plowed quietly ahead in the night. I had constructed a wooden craft for us, using my memory of the vessels I had passed daily in my life on the wharves of San Francisco. Getting the shape right so it would glide steadily had been harder than I anticipated. I had used the simplest, but most effective material I could think of: wood. Smithy had jokingly dubbed the boat The Ark as we had filed aboard. A single piece of fine-grained timber now comfortably held the seven of us, floating on the Mediterranean Sea. A large triangular sail billowed above, full of a steady airstream I used to push us ahead. I had tied off a perpetual mini-storm behind the sail, so I didn’t have to constantly maintain concentration to keep us moving. Truth be told, I was exhausted from the resurrection. We all were. Having a real flesh and blood body to maintain was taxing. It was easy to forget such simple things. On top of that, my nerves were frayed. Every irregular bump or breeze sent my teeth grinding with nerves. It felt like we were sitting ducks, ready to be sunk at any moment.
I had arranged for some of us to sleep, while Mary, Smithy and I stayed up to keep watch. Marlowe was snoring loudly beneath a small housing I had made for us to gather in, away from the chill of the night. After so long in the furnace of Hell, even the mild weather of Greece felt cold. Germaine, Clytemnestra and Charlotte were all lying close together, staying warm while they slumbered. Smithy dropped a fishing line over the railing of the boat, hoping to catch some food. It was easier for me to manifest a rod than a fish.
Mary was kneeling towards the bow of the boat, in silent prayer. Her habit unnerved me. I knew she always whispered her fears to the winds in Hell. She said it scattered her feelings outward and gave them less power over her mind. However, on Earth I was afraid someone might actually be listening. I looked out to the inky waters around us with trepidation. The stillness of the night only served to put me more on edge. Moving towards the front of the boat, I quietly sat down next to her.
“Let’s hope those prayers don’t get answered,” I said, half-joking, trying to lift my own mood.
She looked up at me with a cool stare.
“They never have been before. I can’t see it happening now,” she said, rocking back off her knees to sit with crossed legs. “Still, it helps me relax.”
“I wish it did the same for me,” I said. “I don’t know what will happen when we get to the ladder. Do you think there will be resistance there to meet us?”
“Unlikely,” she shrugged. “From what I understand, it was the path the angels used to visit earth and help with miracles. There hasn’t been a true miracle on Earth for over a thousand years. We would have heard about it in Hell otherwise. As the world became less believing, those in Heaven deserted humanity to let them fend for themselves. Always judging but never helping. I used to watch closely from Hell myself, but eventually even I grew tired of the violence and sorrow being created here. There’s enough of that below.”
I knew she was right. War was a constant feature of the surface on this planet. Conflict was an innate part of the human mind. We were made that way: wolves to each other. What had changed was the level of devastation we could now create through science. Nuclear war, chemical weapons, biologically created disease: they threatened to overwhelm life as we knew it. A brief divine appearance in Israel, where we were headed, announcing from Heaven that the land belonged to everyone equally, might have stemmed the flood of death in the region. Still, Asmodeus hadn’t stepped in. He only manipulated for his own ends, when it served a specific purpose. Conflict for him was entertainment. There was no greater good he wanted.
“Do you think he is us watching now?” I asked Mary softly.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I think if he was, he would have acted already. Perhaps there is some unrest in Heaven. I would like to hope that Zoroaster has been able to raise some concerns amongst the good people there. Asmodeus may be dealing with a minor rebellion of his own. It would certainly explain any lack of action here and maybe even his fast retreat from Hell.”
It was strange. I should have been happy that we hadn’t encountered any problems yet. It was literally smooth sailing, yet experience had taught me that when things were too easy there was a sinister reason behind it. I could only sit tight and wait, hoping Mary was right in her musings.
“Can you speak Hebrew?” I asked her, changing the subject.
“Of course,” she said, raising an eyebrow at the strange turn of the conversation. “I grew up in this part of the world. The language may have evolved since then, but I have evolved with it. I can speak most languages. Every culture in existence craves sex. I cannot help feed their individual desires if I can’t understand what each person wants.”
“Good. So you speak Arabic as well?”
She nodded, the light of understanding glowing in her eyes.
“You want me to serve as our guide through Israel,” she said.
“And Heaven as well,” I confirmed. “We don’t look like we’re from around here, so our best cover is a tourist group, with you as our tour leader. The Aedicule of Ascension would have to be a popular tourist spot.”
“I’m sure hundreds of thousands of pilgrims from all around the world visit there every year. That’s a brilliant idea, Michael.”
“It was Charlotte’s actually,” I said. “She mentioned just before she went to sleep that I should ask you to lead the way, since this is your homeland.”
“She’s smarter than she looks,” Mary said.
I let the backhanded compliment slide. It wasn’t the time for petty differences to get in the way.
“Good,” I said instead. “Once we arrive at the shrine, we’ll conceal ourselves somewhere and work out how to climb the ladder when there’s no one around.”
She nodded slowly, her eyes watching out to
ward the horizon, which had just started to crack with a sliver of golden dawn. We still had a day and a night to travel until we landed on the shores of Israel. The rapidly reddening sky of the morning reminded me of the old proverb: sailor’s warning.
A cry from Smithy behind us made me jump to my feet and spin around. For a brief second I thought we were under attack, until I saw him hauling a flapping fish aboard the boat. It was a huge silver thing, with bright scales that flashed with the reddening light of the new morning sky. Smithy leapt down and grabbed it in his hands, as it gasped its last breaths on the deck. He held it up in the air in triumph. His old face crinkled into a genuine smile of delight.
“We’re having seafood for breakfast!”
EIGHT
I SUCKED JUICY FLESH from the fish bones in my hands. Smithy’s catch had been more than enough to feed all seven of us. Using the elements of fire, I had cooked the creature from the inside, keeping the meat tender and fresh. The meal slid gloriously down my gullet to warm my belly: another forgotten joy. There was no fresh fish in Hell. We all sat in a circle around the carcass, which still held plenty of sustenance to keep us going for the rest of the day. Sounds of messy eating filled the air, along with the occasional caw from some surrounding seagulls. Smithy had a satisfied grin on his face as he watched everyone eat. When someone had finished what was in their hands, he would quickly peel another strip off his prize and force it on them.
“Eat up, eat up!”
We took our fill and more, stretching our stomachs to the limit in a true show of Hellish gluttony. I leaned back on my elbows and watched the surrounding sea. No boats had come near enough to cause any concern. I had almost forgotten we could be swamped at any minute by some kind of force of God. The thought made me sit up again a bit straighter. My mind and body were both weary with the constant strain of worry. To cap it off, my full belly was making me hopelessly sleepy.
“So, Mary,” Clytemnestra said, wiping her greasy hands on her pants. “What can we expect once we’re able to get to Jacob’s ladder and reach Heaven?”
The plan to make our way to the Ascension Aedicule disguised as tourists had already been meet by approval from everyone. Mary finished her mouthful before speaking.
“It’s been a very long time since I’ve been there,” Mary said. “Hell itself has changed so much over that time it wouldn’t be recognizable now. I wonder if the same has happened in Heaven.”
“If Heaven is supposed to be perfection, then it shouldn’t change,” I offered. “The only way to improve perfection is to expand it so more people can enjoy it.”
“You may be right,” Mary conceded. “If that’s the case and it hasn’t changed, there is a main city, where the majority of souls live. The walls around it are made from diamonds and gold.”
“That’s a bit clichéd,” Marlowe snorted.
“The gates are, but the city itself is anything but. It’s not all clouds and angels blowing on trumpets. The centre of the capital is God’s home, a veritable city in itself. There is a huge basilica-style building with high, solid quartz domes. It is built on a rise so it looks over the surrounding metropolis. The central dome has entryways from the sky, from which the angels are free to come and go as they please. Some witty soul nicknamed it ‘The Aviary’. God was so delighted with the humor that it stuck. Around The Aviary is another set of seven domes, each named after the Archangel who presides over the palace within. There are pink quartz statues above each of those palaces, in the angels’ likenesses. Their wings are spread out in welcome to the new souls who are fortunate enough to be able to move into the city. Underneath this complex is a rabbit warren of tunnels connecting the palaces, where the little-seen servant angels can scurry around bringing news, food or entertainment wherever they are needed. At the foot of the city centre there are walls built out in concentric circles to the outer gate. Each circle is reserved for the citizens at a particular level of piety. The inner circle houses the earthly saints and prophets. The next, those who are candidates for canonization and high-holy men of earth.”
“I suppose there are nine circles,” I interrupted.
“God does have a flair for the poetic,” Mary said. “Nine circles of Heaven, just like the supposed nine circles of Hell. But these circles are real.”
I stood up, watching the clear blue sky and then turned to our sail, which was still pushing us in the correct direction. I needed to work my legs or I would fall asleep. I walked over to the railing and looked down into the sea. It was another forgotten world yet to be fully explored. Charlotte rose as well, coming to me and putting a concerned arm around my shoulders. She was watching my tired eyes with worry. She could tell I was struggling to stay alert.
“And what are we looking for once we get there?” Marlowe asked Mary. “How are we going to tear down the gates of the city?”
“We don’t need to take down the gates yet,” Mary answered. “We will need to worry less about the city once the armies of Hell are able to rise up. The goal is to destroy the filter that pushes lesser souls out of Heaven back down to the fiery pits.”
I recalled what it had taken to destroy the barrier of Purgatory. We had used the keys made from the divine element and wedged them into the flow of the filter: a roaring twist of emotion and power. It swirled constantly to sweep away those ready to enter Heaven. Now the barrier between Purgatory and Hell needed to be dismantled as well. I had assumed that Heaven would have enveloped Purgatory in its eternal arms once we had destroyed the first filter, but I hadn’t been able to witness exactly how that had played out. As usual, we were dealing with the unknown. This was as much a discovery mission as it was an attack, like a biopsy on a tumor.
“We need to somehow get our hands on the remaining keys to Heaven,” I said. “We can use them the same way to destroy this filter. I don’t think Asmodeus will have them simply on display, though.”
“We may be surprised at his arrogance,” Clytemnestra offered. She tore off another slice of fish and put it in her mouth. Germaine had made her body with normal teeth and gums. There were no disfigurements that could give us away as inmates of Hell. She was incredibly beautiful, with olive skin and the bone structure of a well-bred queen. Her razor teeth had always dominated my attention before, but now I was struck by her stately good looks.
“There is another set of keys as well,” Mary said, almost too casually. I nearly missed the gravity of her statement.
“What?” I asked.
“Matthew Sixteen Eighteen,” Germaine said to us matter-of-factly.
We looked back at him blankly.
“As the Lord of Hell, you really should know your holy scripture better.” He continued, as if reciting the words from a page in his mind. “And so I say to you, Peter, upon this rock I will build my church, and the gates of the netherworld shall not prevail against it. I will give you the keys to the Kingdom of Heaven. Whatever you bind on Earth shall be bound in Heaven; and whatever you let loose on Earth shall be loosed in Heaven.”
“I will give you the keys to the Kingdom of Heaven.” Smithy repeated, realizing the significance of the verse right away.
“They are the keys between Earth and Heaven.” Mary added. “The keys to the holy city. I’m sure they’ll be made of the divine element also. We just need to find Saint Peter.”
“You make it sound so easy!” I sighed, my fatigue getting the better of my patience. “How do you propose we find him and how can we assume Asmodeus still trusts him with the keys?”
“Asmodeus cannot go against his own divine mandate handed down in scripture,” she replied hotly. “Not only will Peter still have the keys, but I know where he’ll be. Just as the stories say, he’s always standing at the front gates of the city, making sure only the worthy enter.”
Her words reminded me of the traditional image of Saint Peter at the ‘pearly gates’: God’s bouncer. If Mary was correct, then perhaps our mission would prove to be as fruitful as we could dare hope. If she was cor
rect. I felt my legs wobble a little beneath me. The body I was in badly needed sleep. I noticed that Mary and Smithy who had stayed awake during the first shift also had black bags under their eyes. Sensing my exhaustion, Charlotte tapped me on the chest lightly.
“It’s time you got some rest, my love,” she said tenderly.
“I cannot,” I said. “I need to be ready should anything happen. I can manufacture sleep from the elements.”
“You’re no good to anyone dead tired,” she pressed softly. “It’s easier for you to just close your eyes. It will help pass the time for you. You’re like a skittish cat at the moment. There are four of us to keep watch. I’ll make sure there is always someone right by your side, ready to rouse you if anything seems off.”
I blinked a long blink of the weary. Sleep. We had a huge day coming up. I needed to be fresh for the climb up the ladder. Accepting Lotte’s offer, I crept under the shelter on the deck and into the shadows. Smithy also dragged himself away from the food and laid his new old bones out on the wooden deck near me. Mary followed. Surprisingly, she lay next to Smithy, snuggling up tight into his body, so he had no choice but to wrap his arms around her. The pilot looked to me with shock. I gave him a tired wink and then finally put my head down. I had thought it would be a battle to keep my mind still enough to rest, but I had barely closed my eyes before the grip of sleep rose up like pseudo death, dragging me into its black embrace.
NINE
I walked alone in The Void, stalking on a carpet of elements. I looked around, afraid. I knew something was coming for me, but wasn’t sure what. My eyesight was muddled so I couldn’t see further than a few feet in front of me. Still I walked on, knowing that I had to keep moving and everything would be okay. I had to keep going at all costs. A blur of movement flashed to the side, but when I turned towards it, it disappeared. There was someone out there. Were they friend or foe? I started to jog forward again, into the uncertain Void. One foot after the other I stepped, my feet padding faster and faster. The blur to the side kept getting closer. It drew up so it brushed my skin, hands stroking my leg roughly, then my chest. I jerked away and pumped my legs to quicken my pace. I looked ahead and saw an opening of color. The Perceptionist was there, next to a swirling portal. His thousand eyes were all blood red, like The Furies’. In a fast movement, he wedged his hands in front of him and tore the fabric of the Void apart, creating anti-matter, which burrowed away to another universe. I saw its horrid darkness and tried to stop, but my legs kept going. Again there was the blur, brushing my body, harassing me at every step. The Perceptionist covered the entry to the portal next to him with dark matter, blocking the way. I tried to tell my legs to stop, but my body would not obey my mind. It just kept running headlong towards certain death. Again, there was a bump against my body. I tried to turn but not even my eyes would work. I was being propelled onward against my will. As I came closer to him, The Perceptionist stepped aside. With a silent scream, I tumbled into the black hole of anti-matter he had made. I reached out instinctively to hold onto something in the physical world. This time my body reacted. My fingers gripped onto a hand. The blur gave out a shout of surprise.
