Inferno

by Larry Niven

  The car roared and surged into a converging circle. Most of them dodged for their lives. One went under the wheels. Another, a big athletic type with long black hair halfway down his back and a scraggly beard, got the edge of the right door and swung up on the trunk lid. A small-boned blond man had come with him. “Frank!” the companion called. “Frank! Don’t leave me!”

  “Sorry, Gene. Nothing I can do. No room for both of us.”

  “Frank!” The car gunned ahead as Corbett got it under control again. A thin voice followed us. “Frank! I went to Hell for you . . .”

  Frank had managed to crawl up to get an arm around Corbett’s neck. He squeezed. “All right, buddy, turn this thing around! We’re going to Havana!”

  “Fine. Whatever you say,” said Corbett. Frank grinned and slacked off his grip on Corbett, but he didn’t let go.

  Now we had Frank on the trunk; Billy in the passenger seat, groaning a little, still unable to move; Benito on the left front fender; me on the motor compartment trying to stay clear of the hot engine, my legs dangling out to the right; and the girl forward on the right front fender, her feet on the bumper. Corbett had his problems driving. He had to lean way out to the left to see around the open hood.

  Billy was able to scream now.

  “For God’s sake, brush the fire off him, Frank!” Corbett yelled.

  “Screw that. Screw God too. Get moving.”

  We moved. Corbett yelled and I slacked off on the gas to let him shift to second. That was fast enough. The car fought, the hot metal tugged against my fingers like something alive, but I could control the speed. At least we weren’t hitting any bumps.

  “Heeehaaah!” Frank screamed in joy. “Better’n the last chicken run! I’ll make you guys honorary Hells Angels! We’re tough, you know? Toughest bunch in the world, you know? Hick sheriff was so scared of us he called the state fuzz. We run for it. I had the lead. Come around a curve and the whole road was full of fuzzmobiles. I got two fuzz smearing myself.”

  “Your friend back there—” I shouted.

  “Gene? We did some swinging times, man. Had a whole stable of ’em. Boys, girls, but the only one they let me keep was Gene. Maybe I’ll miss him.” He didn’t look back.

  “Could you get that fire off my leg?” I asked the girl.

  “Naw! Enough trouble holding on here.”

  “You said you’d do anything!” I clenched my teeth in agony. There was fire on both legs now, and I couldn’t slap. I couldn’t let go of the spring, and I had to hold on with the other hand. The car was still fighting me. “Get that fire off or we’ll throw you off!”

  “Awright, awright, you don’t have to get nasty.” She slapped a couple of times and got the worst away.

  “Who are you?” Benito asked.

  “Doreen Lancer,” she yelled above the roaring motor. “Go go dancer. One night some bastard raped me and strangled me. At least, he tried to rape me!” She laughed bitterly. “He didn’t seem to know how to go about it!”

  “So what the hell are you doing here?” Frank demanded.

  “Don’t know! I liked it every which way. Most of the types I meet here are fags—”

  “I’m no goddamn fag!” Frank yelled.

  “Don’t blaspheme,” Benito told him, predictably, I guess.

  “Fuck off! Talk to me that way and I’ll twist this bastard’s neck off!” The car lurched as he choked Corbett.

  “No!” Doreen screamed. “We’ll crash! This is our only way out! Leave him alone—Look, don’t hurt him, and when we get out we can really swing, right?”

  I laughed. I couldn’t help it.

  “What’s so funny?” she demanded.

  “It’s not a romantic situation!” I bellowed. I wasn’t even sure there could be sex in Hell, and I hadn’t found any opportunity to try. Or inclination, either.

  I bellowed again and she slapped my testicles. It hurt as much as it had when I was alive. I pulled the accelerator widget out, tugging with all my strength, letting the car slow.

  “I’m sorry!” she yelled. “I was getting the fire off, I swear, that’s all I was doing! I’m sorry . . . hey, you wanna be a three-some with Frank and me?”

  I let the car speed up again. We had to get out of here. But I’d never had an offer I liked less.

  “I can see something ahead!” Corbett shouted. “We’re getting to the edge!”

  “About time,” Frank said. We rolled on. “Just remember, pretty boy, I’m in charge here,” he added, and Corbett grunted in pain. Frank must have emphasized his words.

  The horizon was sharp ahead. I could barely see over the motor. Corbett saw it too. “Kill the power!” he yelled. Brakes screeched, and he twisted the wheel hard.

  I climbed out of the motor. The fireflakes were thicker here than in the middle of the desert. We ran, hopping—

  Frank still had Corbett by the neck. “This the way out of here? What are you trying to pull?”

  There was a sheer drop ahead of us. It was gloomy down there. I couldn’t see the bottom. Several hundred feet anyway. “Now what?” I asked Benito.

  “The quick way would be to jump.” He was dead serious. “Jump and wait to heal, then go on.”

  The girl backed away, staring at him. “You’re crazy! Crazy! I should have known better than to trust guys like you! All the promises you make—” She didn’t finish, but ran back into the desert, crying.

  “That’s done it!” Frank yelled. “You’re sure as hell going over that cliff, all right, because I’m going to throw you!” He had Corbett by the neck, and he dragged him toward the cliff edge. “First you, then your loudmouth friend, then the fat one, and then—”

  He’d forgotten Billy. We all had. It was a mistake for Frank. Billy launched himself from the car without warning. He landed on Frank’s back and seized the long hair with one hand, pulled the head back, and wrapped his arm around Frank’s neck. His knee gouged into the Hells Angel’s back, bowing him into an arc. “Friend, I don’t think I like you.”

  I yelled, “Billy! Are you all right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You weren’t moving—”

  “Been able to move awhile now. Didn’t seem like a good idea to let this creep know it. Jerry coulda crashed this thing if we were fightin’ while it was movin’.”

  I thought about the self-control it would take to sit still under a rain of sticky fire.

  “What’ll I do with the Gila monster, Benito?”

  “Leggo! I was only kidding!” Franked yelled. “You guys got no business giving me false hopes! It was all your fault—” He stopped talking because Billy’s arm had closed his throat.

  “Do not harm him,” Benito said quietly.

  “Yeah?” Billy let him go. “Friend, you’re not tough. You don’t know what tough is. Now get away from us.” The pale-blue eyes seemed infinitely deep, and cold, even in this place of fire.

  “You may come with us if you like,” Benito told Frank, “although I do not think you are ready. With your attitude you might well find a worse place than you have now. Still you are welcome to join us.”

  “Go to Hell!” Frank screamed. He thought that was funny. “Go to Hell! Go to Hell!” He ran away into the desert, laughing, screaming, trying to keep both feet off the hot sand at once.

  Benito looked at us, waiting.

  “I’ll jump if you say so,” Billy said. “Looks bad, though. I can tell you, being crushed flat ain’t no fun.”

  I gulped. “I will too.” I wondered if I meant it.

  “There may be a better way,” Benito said. “We must find the stream. Corbett, you can drive?”

  “Sure.”

  We turned left. I had a whole fender to sprawl on now. The car seemed more docile, too, but I wasn’t going to trust it. I didn’t really have to—I was getting good at manipulating the gas widget.

  We came to a horde of people dressed in the finery of all ages: velvet robes, flare pants, alligator shoes. Corbett shouted at me. “Stopping!
” He turned off the key before I could do anything, and the car rolled to a halt.

  Fireflakes fell on us. “Now what?”

  Corbett was out of the car and looking at a beefy man in a gaudy tunic, crimson sash, and black glove-leather boots. There was a big leather wallet hung on a golden chain around his neck, and he stared into it, not looking up. The fireflakes had burned holes in his tunic and scorched his hair.

  Corbett stood in front of him. When the burly man didn’t look up, Corbett stooped over so that his face was in line with the wallet. “Give me my money!” Corbett shouted.

  “You son of a bitch, you owe me!”

  “But I’ve had this problem, see, my girl is . . .” Corbett began.

  “I don’t want to hear any stories, I just want my money! Arrgh!” A big fireflake settled on the crown of his head. He tried to brush it off.

  “Hang tough,” Corbett said. He came back to the car chuckling. “Long Harry there loaned me some cash, once. Six for five—every week.”

  I nodded. There were lots of others there, crying into their purses. The rain of fire seemed heavier here. “Let’s get going.” I didn’t like Corbett gloating over them—but if anybody deserved to be here, it was them. Loan shark is as low a form of life as there is.

  We didn’t drive so fast that we couldn’t talk. “Funny thing about Harry,” Corbett said. “He had to give up the loan shark business. Had a customer with a hit man for a friend. Took his buddy Lem to see Harry, but Harry wouldn’t listen. Just kept saying, ‘Give me my money.’ So Lem had a talk with Harry.”

  “Lem?” Billy asked. He sounded puzzled.

  “Yeah. I don’t know what he told Harry, but just after that all of Harry’s customers were off the hook. Just had to pay what they’d got in the first place.”

  “Lem,” Billy said. “Little guy? About my size? Big scar over his left eye?”

  “Yeah,” Corbett said. “You know him?”

  “Kind of. They used to let him onto the island for a day. One day a year. The rest of the time he was out in the blood. I always did wonder why.”

  “We are coming to the stream,” Benito said. “The fire does not fall there.”

  19

  T

  he river was narrow but fast. Its roar was different somehow from that of water, and it was still bright scarlet. The air was thick with the smell of blood.

  Nonetheless we walked down and bathed our half-broiled feet in it. Afterward we walked the cool mud of the bank with our sandals off until we reached the waterfall. There we watched endless tons of blood falling into the darkness.

  I said, “Now what?”

  Benito scowled in indecision. “It is a risk. The monster Geryon carried Dante and Virgil into lower Hell. But they were on a holy errand. We are not. I have known Geryon. He is not worthy of trust.”

  “The password,” I remembered.

  “ ‘This has been willed where what is willed must be.’ Yes. Shall we try it?”

  “Better’n jumping.” Billy looked at Benito. “It is, ain’t it? What can he do to us? Eat us?”

  “Summon Minos.”

  “Let’s try it,” said Corbett. “We’ve gotten this far without anyone doing that.”

  “Are we agreed, then? Good. Now we must summon Geryon. We need a signal, something to get his attention. Dante flung a rope into the abyss.”

  “A signal,” said Corbett. “Does it have to be subtle?”

  “I should not think that subtlety would be necessary.”

  “We wouldn’t want Geryon to think we’re crude, would we? Some delicate change in the environment, just noticeable enough to attract his attention. Let me see.” Corbett walked back to the car and switched on the ignition. He went around to the back and unscrewed the gas cap.

  A fireflake fell past his nose. He blew on it, guiding it into the gas tank. The tank lit with a whoosh. Hurriedly Corbett reached into the car and shifted it into first gear. We stood well back and watched it roll over the edge.

  “Subtlety is all,” said Corbett.

  The car fell like a battlefield flare. It passed and illuminated a compact body already rising through the murk.

  “He knew we were here.” Corbett was flat on his belly with his face over the cliff’s edge. “We didn’t need to signal.”

  “He will not come without a signal,” said Benito.

  The car was a towering flame at the base of the cliff. Lighted from below, Geryon was a compact shadow with a slender, twisting tail. He floated up to us, his features growing clear. He hovered at our height, smiled reassuringly at us with a startlingly human face, then slid forward onto the rock ledge, leaving his tail hanging free in space.

  Geryon was as big as a rowboat, and wingless. His hind feet were webbed, built for swimming. His almost human head was hairless, the mouth wide, the chin broad and strong, the nose very wide and flat, with large nostrils. The head sloped back to round shoulders, without benefit of neck.

  His arms were human enough, the size of my own. On Geryon they were disproportionately small. Something was funny about the hands: the fingers were short and thick, designed for ripping.

  I could see him as an air-breathing aquatic beast that had developed human intelligence. I wondered about his nose. It was big enough to feed him air fast, hooded to keep water out. Reasonable, but different from the cetacean design.

  His pelt had the look of medieval tapestry: golden knots and figures on a blue-gray background. Lovely; a trifle flashy. And adequate camouflage if he was used to hovering just beneath sunlit water.

  Altogether he was a believable alien, excluding his ability to fly. I didn’t like that. Bad enough if Infernoland had been built by humans. What if it had been built by interstellar conquerors for their own amusement?

  Geryon’s voice was deep, with a queer buzzing quality. “Hello, Benito. Three of them? Isn’t that a bit much?”

  Benito was brusque. He didn’t like Geryon. “This has been willed where what is willed must be. In any case, you must have noticed how the damned flow in like a river in flood—”

  “Haven’t I just. Swamping you, are they? I think the end of the world must be near. Hell is getting full,” said the alien. “Well, we who serve God’s will in Hell have precious little of free will, eh, Benito? Climb aboard, you. I hope you can all hang on.”

  He had spoken jovially, with no bitterness and only the merest trace of mockery.

  My foot kicked something rigid as I tried to board Geryon’s flat back. I looked down. It wasn’t easy to see, but there was metal belted about Geryon’s belly, machinery covered with material the same color as his gaudy pelt.

  Antigravity?

  I settled behind the monster’s head. Billy’s arm closed about my waist. Corbett was behind him, and Benito was last, braving the twin stings in the forked tail. Geryon grinned at me over his shoulder and pushed back from the edge.

  Billy’s arms tightened convulsively. I saw that his eyes were closed tight, his teeth clenched.

  My view of Hell was darkness and firelit smokes, the fires tracing concentric arcs. Geryon tilted to one side and dropped in a slow spiral. The scarlet waterfall dashed itself to foam and spray on the rocks. Billy was squeezing the breath from me, but I didn’t complain. I heard whimpering noises being squeezed from him.

  We touched down.

  I said, “Your first flight, Billy?”

  “Yeah.”

  “We’re down. You can let go.”

  “Yeah.” He unlocked his arms in stages and climbed down on shaky legs. I followed.

  Geryon floated up a few feet and hovered. “Hey, Benito,” he called. His voice was full of artificial camaraderie, more menacing than threats. “Why is it, Benito, that the people you travel with don’t ever come back?” The monster lifted toward the sky, chortling.

  Carefully casual, Corbett asked Benito, “You’ve been here before?”

  “I have rescued others,” Benito answered.

  “How many?”


  “Six. One at a time. No matter how many come with me at first, no more than one at a time ever seems to reach the exit point. Perhaps this time we will be more fortunate.”

  “What happened to the others?” I asked.

  “Why did you come back?” Corbett demanded.

  We’d both spoken at once, and Benito chose to answer neither of us.

  “Have you ever seen the exit?” Corbett asked.

  Benito’s voice was colorlessly grim. “Yes.”

  “And gone beyond it?”

  “No. But it follows Dante’s route, which leads to Purgatory. I came back to find others in need of guidance. Do you object, Allen Carpentier? Should I have left you in the bottle?”

  “Hey, hey hey!” Billy was dancing with impatience. “If we’re going, let’s go! What’s all the jawing about?”

  Benito nodded and led us off downslope. We felt exposed on level ground, and Geryon couldn’t be the only flying thing. He hadn’t reported us (had he?), but that was no guarantee that something else wouldn’t. We moved swiftly across what seemed to be solid rock, always downhill, further into murk and gloom, until we came to a cliff edge.

  There was a ditch in front of us, seventy or eighty feet deep and perhaps twice that wide. It was divided in the middle by a low wall of rock. The divider was low enough that we could see over it, lower than the height of a normal man—

  —and the ditch was full. Masses of humanity moved in a standard traffic pattern, all hurrying along, not quite running, left-bound on the far side, rightward on the near side. They moved fast.

  They moved fast because there were beings with whips urging them along. It took a moment for that to register.

  Okay, Carpentier, you’re in Hell and there are demons in Hell. There were things on the red-hot wall that might have been demons if you could have seen them clearly through the fog. There’s Geryon, certainly a monster. Of course Big Juju can make demons.

  But I hadn’t wanted to believe it.