Diary of a journey through Hell

by Trudie Collins

  4th December 2002

  Well, I decided to go with him; after all, he is my best friend. How could I let him face the unknown alone? I do, however, have the feeling this may be a decision I will deeply regret.

  My alarm went off at 5am (apparently such a time does exist) and we were on the road by 6. I had no idea where we were going. When I asked, all Robert would say is ‘caves’. He would not let me take my little car, insisting instead on driving his huge monstrosity of a four wheel drive. Mine would have been much more economical for the long drive, but he complained about it being cramped and uncomfortable. As usual, he got his own way. I think he began to regret his decision when it was my turn to take over at the wheel.

  “I haven’t even let Tammara drive this little baby,” he said when I held out my hand for the keys.

  “Either I get to drive or we take a break every two hours.” I could see him doing mental calculations, trying to figure out if we would reach our destination in time if I didn’t do any of the driving. Eventually he must have decided that regular breaks would slow us down too much and reluctantly he handed me the keys.

  I hated every minute of it. It felt like I was driving a tank. My vehicle is responsive, easy to manoeuvre and, most importantly, light. This thing was heavy and sluggish. It was exhausting driving it. When we next stopped for a toilet break, I was more than happy to give the keys back.

  I must admit, though, it was comfortable. As I predicted, I did not sleep very well last night and it was so easy to drop off when I was just the passenger. I did not even need to navigate as Robert already knew the way. Not that I would be able to navigate anyway, seeing as I still had no idea where we were going. Robert woke me for lunch, which consisted of burgers and fries. At least he purchased water to wash it down with instead of coke.

  The journey was long and boring. There was not even any decent scenery. It was approaching five in the afternoon and I had been driving for less than an hour when Robert instructed me to pull in beside a roadside café.

  “This may be our last chance to eat for a while,” he said. Did this mean we were nearing our destination or were we about to head into the middle of nowhere?

  Surprisingly, there were relatively healthy meals available and at reasonable prices, so I didn’t make any complaints. The fact that Robert was funding the entire trip also helped.

  Less than an hour after leaving the café, Robert announced that we had reached our destination. So here I am, writing my diary while waiting in the car for the caves to be empty. They are a popular tourist destination, but Robert said we must enter after sundown, when they are closed. When I queried how we would get in, he held up some bolt cutters. I guess he forgot to mention that we would be breaking and entering.

  I am now beginning to get nervous. In only a few hours I could be entering Hell. Deep down, I know that that will not happen, that all we will find is dark, damp caves with no entrance to the underworld, but I cannot shake this feeling of foreboding that has invaded me.

  For Robert’s sake, I hope I am wrong and that our journey will not end here, but I cannot bring myself to believe it. Only time will tell.

  4th December 2002 - continued

  Oh. My. God. I know that is an expression I should really stop using, especially under the circumstances, but I know no other way of expressing myself. I would say that the events of the past few hours were unbelievable, but that would be like saying the great flood was caused by a little bit of rain. Even now I have to keep pinching myself to make sure I’m not dreaming. I was definitely wrong about the journey ending in the caves.

  Maybe I should slow down and start from the beginning. When I left off, I was sitting in Robert’s car, waiting for the sun to go down. As soon as the celestial body had completed its task, Robert announced it was time to go. With our rucksacks on our backs, we walked up to the gates which, of course, were locked. Robert slipped his bag off his shoulder, unzipped it, took out a flashlight and handed it to me. At least one of us came prepared and, as usual, it wasn’t me.

  Then he took out the bolt cutters and deftly broke the padlock. Opening the gates just enough for us both to slip through, he reattached the broken lock to the chain so that from a distance it would look like it was still locked.

  “I don’t know if this place has night security,” he said, “but if they do, I can almost guarantee they won’t bother coming right up to the gate to check it. Hopefully we will be out of here and on our way home before sunrise, so we will be long gone before anyone is aware that we broke in.”

  I nodded, hoping he was right.

  We quickly made our way toward the caves. The moon was out, providing enough light to navigate by, and Robert seemed to know exactly where he was going.

  “I came here a few times when I was a kid,” he said when I commented. “We used to vacation not far from here and this was a favourite day trip each year.”

  “Is that why we came to these caves?” I asked. “I’m sure there are some closer.”

  “There are, but knowing my way around these ones is not the reason we are here.”

  “So what is?”

  “You’ll see,” he replied and winked at me. Robert can be really annoying sometimes. Drip feeding information is a habit he developed at a very young age. He knows it infuriates me and I’m sure that is why he does it half the time. That is one of the reasons I agreed to go with him; he gave me full details of what had happened without me having to coax it out of him. At least I think he did.

  As we got closer to the cave entrance Robert had chosen, the moon went behind a cloud and our visibility went down to practically zero. Robert took the flashlight from me and instructed me to keep close. The steps leading up to the entrance were small and a little slippery, but Robert kept turning the light back onto me so I could see where I was going.

  “I should have worn a warmer jacket,” I said as I entered the cave. “I am going to freeze in here.”

  “Don’t exaggerate,” he said, without turning around to face me. “It’s fifteen degrees Celsius. Way above freezing.”

  “During the day, maybe,” I said. “But I bet it gets a lot colder than that at night.”

  “Actually, it doesn’t. It stays the same temperature constantly, day and night, summer and winter.”

  I have no idea if he is right or not so I didn’t argue. We were working our way slowly down some steps when I felt something touch my face and I screamed. Robert had the audacity to laugh.

  “Someone just blow in your face?” he asked.

  “Something like that,” I replied grumpily. How did he know?

  “Katabatic winds,” he said in a smug tone. He even turned the flashlight onto himself so I could see he was grinning. The sight was eerie. Robert’s skin is very dark. And by very dark, I mean black. I find it really offensive when people refer to me as being ‘white’ and Robert as ‘black’, but in his case it is accurate. As a result, when the light hit his face all I could see were his teeth, his face having merged with the darkness of the cave. He had his eyes closed, which heightened the effect.

  Even in the dark he knew I was frowning at him. “They are created by the difference in temperature between here and the outside,” he continued. I knew he was putting it in simple terms for me, but I didn’t want a lecture so I decided not to ask for further details.

  We continued on, feeling our way along the walls in the dark while keeping the flashlight aimed at the ground. I was pretty sure we were not supposed to be touching the walls of the caves, but with not enough light to see the sides as well as the ground, we didn’t really have a lot of choice.

  Note to self: Next time Robert suggests a night time excursion, bring your own torch.

  We walked for what felt like hours, but was probably no more than thirty minutes, going up and down with occasional bits of flat ground in between, until Robert announced that we had reached our destination.

  “This is why we are here instead of any other cave,” he said
and shone the flashlight downward. We were standing on a wooden bridge, looking over the safety rail to the chasm below.

  “Is that water?” I asked when the light hit something below, making it shine.

  Robert nodded his head. “That, my dear, is called the river Styx.”

  For some reason that name rang a bell. “Why is it called that?” I wondered out loud, not really expecting an answer.

  “The tour guides give some bullshit story about the people who first found it. I can’t remember the exact details,” Robert replied, thinking I was actually interested in the answer. As it turns out, I was. “The real reason is that it is the border between our realm and the underworld.”

  So that is why I knew the name. “You’re kidding,” I said in disbelief. “As in Greek mythology?”

  Again Robert nodded. “Feel like getting wet?” he asked, grinning.

  “Not really,” I said. “It will be too cold.”

  “Thirteen point eight degrees Celsius, if my memory serves me right.” His facts were really beginning to annoy me.

  “So what do we do now?” I asked.

  “Jump.”

  “No way,” I said, backing away from the edge. “What if it’s too shallow? We could be killed.”

  “Technically it’s four meters deep,” Robert said confidently.

  “Technically?” That didn’t sound good.

  “If I’m right, then it is a lot deeper than that. If, as I believe, it goes all the way to the underworld, it will be perfectly safe to jump from here. As long as you hold your breath long enough.”

  “And if you’re wrong?”

  Robert shrugged. “It is still safe to jump. We just end up cold and wet. Did I remember to tell you to bring a change of clothes?” He hadn’t. Nor a towel. “Ready?”

  Of course I wasn’t ready to jump. Was he insane?

  When I didn’t reply, he climbed over the safety rail and sat on it, looking back at me. “Do you trust me?” he asked and held out his hand to me. Reluctantly I accepted it and climbed over the rail. “On the count of three,” he continued, gripping my hand tight. “One. Two. Three.”

  I’m ashamed to admit that I screamed. So much for holding my breath. My lungs were going to fill with water the minute we hit the river. Only we didn’t hit the river. Instead of an ice-cold splash, there was nothing, absolutely nothing. I finally stopped screaming when I ran out of air.

  “What the hell is happening?” I started to ask, but before I reached the end of the sentence we hit the ground, hard. The words were knocked out of me as I crumbled onto the sand. Sand? Why was there sand?

  “Are you alright?” I could hear a voice asking, but I was unable to speak. “Rachel,” Robert said, frantically shaking me. “Are you alright?”

  “No,” I croaked and tried to sit up.

  “Stay still,” he said, gently pushing me back down. “Where does it hurt?”

  “Everywhere,” I groaned.

  “Stop being melodramatic and get up. The landing wasn’t that bad.” So much for sympathy and understanding. I obeyed without complaining. He was right after all. It had been jarring, but that was all. Nowhere near as bad as it should have been considering how far we had fallen.

  “Where the hell are we?” I asked as I got to my feet and brushed the sand from my bum.

  “How about Hell?” Robert replied sarcastically.

  Before I could make a flippant response I heard a voice calling to us and we both turned around in surprise.

  “Welcome to the underworld. We have been expecting you.” We were expected? That didn’t sound good. The guy who was speaking must have been in his mid to late twenties, cute with a not bad body, but definitely not hunk of the year material. He was dressed in a loose, white, short sleeved shirt and casual light coloured cotton trousers. His fringe fell across his face as he spoke and he had to keep brushing it back with his hand. At least he was friendly. He was smiling at us, which had to be a good sign.

  “Who the hell are you?” I asked. Not very polite I know, but I was scared shitless so my manners were long gone.

  “I’m Kris,” he said, not in the least put out by my attitude. Maybe I wasn’t the first visitor to be aggressive. Then he grimaced. “I understand you are probably a little disoriented right now, but will you please stop using that word.”

  “Which word?”

  “H.E.L.L,” he spelled out. “The Lord of the underworld doesn’t like it and nor do any of us who live here.”

  “Lord of the underworld?” I asked. “You mean Death?”

  “No,” Kris replied, looking confused. “Whoever told you Death ruled down here?”

  I threw a questioning glance at Robert, but he was equally surprised. “I’m Rob,” he said, holding out his hand for Kris to shake. Everyone calls him Rob except me. I don’t know why. He prefers it, but I just can’t bring myself to shorten his name. Robert suits him much better.

  “And this is Rachel,” he continued.

  “How come we are expected?” I asked, noting that Kris ignored Robert’s outstretched hand. A feeling of unease crept over me.

  “Death told me you were coming.” That didn’t make me feel any better. “Follow me.”

  “Are you taking us to Charon?” Robert asked, refusing to move until he had some idea as to where we would be heading. Who the hell was Charon? I know Kris asked me not to use that word, but I’m writing it not saying it so nobody will know. I hope. “Does he accept modern day coins?”

  That comment triggered a memory. Charon. The ferryman. You have to pay him to ferry you from the land of the living to the land of the dead. If you don’t have any money, your soul is left by the riverside for a hundred years. I would like to say my knowledge is because I paid attention in history classes, but unfortunately in this case Hollywood was my tutor.

  “Well, you could go that way if you wanted to,” Kris said with a cheeky grin, “but this is a lot faster.” He pointed to a speed boat. It was at this point that I decided I was dreaming. Maybe the landing was harder than I thought and I hit my head.

  The journey across the river did not take long and was conducted in silence. Robert seemed tense. When we beached on the other side, he leaped out of the boat and onto the sand, then helped Kris pull the boat out of the water.

  Kris headed off up the beach without looking behind to see if we were still with him. I looked at Robert, silently asking if we should follow. He shrugged his shoulders then walked in the same direction as Kris.

  The beach led toward trees and we followed a path that wound its way between them. The moon was out, lighting our way, and the air was warm and still. If this was Hell, I couldn’t wait to see heaven.

  Before long the trees thinned and we could make out a building in the distance. It was large, like an old English country mansion. As we drew closer and we could see it more clearly, I could make out the outline of the white bricks it was built from. White bricks? Why would anyone use white bricks? How did they keep them so unblemished? Was there a team of servants whose job it was to clean the bricks each day? And what was this place? Then I remembered that we were in Hell and decided that servants would not be the right word. Slaves maybe? Or victims?

  A sudden thought occurred to me and I could not suppress a shudder. This place looked warm and inviting, but was it really a prison? Would we be allowed to enter through the front door or would we be taken to the back entrance and down some stairs to the dungeons?

  I breathed an audible sigh of relief when Kris went to the front door and opened it. He held it open for us as we, somewhat reluctantly, walked up the steps to join him. The inside was breath-taking. Candles burned from multiple candelabras, lighting the hallway without causing any shadows. Colourful tapestries lined the walls and a deep red carpet ran along the floor. The grand staircase in front of us looked like it should have had Scarlett at the top of it, calling down to Rhett. I couldn’t wait to ascend it.

  Kris quietly closed the door behind us and, much
to my disappointment, walked straight past the staircase and further down the corridor.

  “Come on,” he said. “We’re behind schedule and it’s not good to keep the Lord of the underworld waiting.”

  I had been so taken in by the beauty of the place that I had temporarily forgotten where we were. Kris’s words brought me back to reality (if this was reality, that is) and I quickened my pace in order to catch up. Robert was ahead of me and took my hand in his when I was close enough, squeezing it reassuringly. He seemed scared, very scared. He was not the only one. I tried to remind myself that this was just a dream, but that didn’t help much.

  Kris led us down the corridor to a set of double doors, which he pushed open without knocking. “They’ve arrived,” he called out as he entered the room.

  “What took you so long?” I heard a booming voice sound.

  “They did not seem in a hurry to get here for some reason.”

  A rumble of laughter echoed around the room and I crept closer, trying to get a look inside without being seen.

  “You can come in my dear,” whoever had laughed said loudly, a trace of amusement still in his voice.

  I was still debating whether to or not when I felt strong hands on my back and Robert shoved me into the room. So much for chivalry.

  I found myself in a dining room. A long table with half a dozen chairs around it was laden with a variety of food, all of which looked and smelled delicious. Much to my embarrassment, my stomach gurgled as the aromas hit me.

  Only two chairs were occupied; one by a pretty young woman with long blonde hair, which was tied back in a ponytail and draped across one shoulder; the other by a middle aged man with equally long brown hair. He had a long beard which ended in a neat point just before it touched the table and he had the wisest eyes I have ever seen. They were pale grey and seemed full of intelligence.