Hell and Back

by Patricia Blackmoor

  I was born in Minneapolis.

  I have two sisters.

  I rubbed my hands on my pants, pressing deep into the muscle. It was something I always did when I was stressed. Better that than pulling out my hair or hyperventilating. I’d already done both of those things here, and they hadn’t gotten me anything but strands of hair woven between my fingers and a sore throat.

  I was going stir-crazy in this tiny cell. I was almost anxious to be taken for torture just to get out, to stretch my legs, to be able to walk more than a few steps. I had tried to pace in my cell, but it lost its allure once I could only step three times in either direction.

  I rested my head on my knees.

  My name is Megan Anne Cross.

  I am twenty-six years old.

  My birthday is July fifth.

  My parents are Susan and Kenneth.

  I was born in Minneapolis.

  I have two sisters.

  I am allergic to shellfish.

  I was trying, I really was, but a feeling was beginning to well inside of me, an anxiousness, a terror that I hadn’t felt since I had first arrived. I took deep breaths, but they felt like they did nothing. I didn’t need the oxygen here. It didn’t soothe me, the way deep breaths were supposed to. It only filled my lungs with smoke and ash, burning them from the inside. Coughing was no use. Water would have been nice, but of course, hell wasn’t meant to be nice.

  My name is Megan Anne Cross.

  I am twenty-six years old.

  My birthday is July fifth.

  My parents are Susan and Kenneth.

  I was born in Minneapolis.

  I have two sisters.

  I am allergic to shellfish.

  I work at the university.

  Of course, none of that was really true anymore, was it? My name was Megan Anne Cross. I was twenty-six years old. My birthday was July fifth. My parents were Susan and Kenneth. I had two sisters. I was allergic to shellfish. I worked at the university. None of that was true anymore, except maybe my name. I was dead, and all the things I had been in life were dead with me. I was no longer anyone’s daughter or sister or girlfriend. I had no age or birthday. I was nothing but a prisoner.

  I sighed as I leaned my head back. I knew why I was in such a foul, anxious mood. It was because ages had passed since the last time I’d seen Parker. He’d stopped by my cell, briefly, to let me know that he was forced to keep his distance. Since then, I’d scarcely seen him in passing, a sad comparison to the long conversations we used to have. He was right; people needed companionship, they needed physical touch, and they’d go crazy without it.

  I asked him once what people were like when they’d been here a long, long time. He didn’t answer me at first; I’d had to press him. He looked at me with all the heaviness in the world, lips pressed together, eyes not meeting mine.

  “I’ve seen some of them,” he said. “The oldest ones are on the lowest level, right by the torture chambers. They...they’re hardly there.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Their skin is sort of gray, from the soot and dirt. Their eyes are dead. They’re naked, because their clothes became shreds a long time ago. Most of their hair has come out. They can hardly speak. It’s like they’re zombies.”

  Parker was clearly shaken by the mention of these original prisoners, and so I tried to add some levity. “Sounds like Gollum.”

  He paused. “Actually, yeah. They look a lot like Gollum. Men or women, doesn’t matter. They lost what made them human a long time ago.”

  I shook my head. “That’s terrible.”

  “It would give me nightmares if I could sleep.”

  “So, hell has all the most evil people in the world, right?”

  “Among some that are less evil.”

  “And the famous ones too? Hitler and Stalin and Roger Ailes?”

  “I guess, yeah. I don’t know where else they’d go.”

  “Have you met any of them?”

  He raised an eyebrow at me. “You think someone with my skin color would willingly meet Hitler or Ailes?”

  I nodded, then shrugged. “I mean, they couldn’t hurt you. Couldn’t touch you.”

  He smirked. “I doubt that hell would allow such satisfaction.”

  “Pity. I’d like to give Hitler a piece of my mind.”

  He was called away again, and that had been the last time I saw him. He had been locked away in training with the others, busy at work learning how to get people to sign the same sort of deals that had damned him. I knew he hated it, I could see the look on his face every time he passed by the cell, every time he caught my eye across the pit. He was miserable, like a used car salesman who was selling cars he knew were dangerous. He didn’t want to be condemning others. That wasn’t who he was.

  Our eyes would meet every once in a while, but he ignored me for the most part.

  “It’s for your own safety,” he had told me, and I believed him, although he refused to go into detail. I hadn’t realized, at the time though, that distancing himself would mean the same thing as actively avoiding me or even giving me dirty looks.

  His replacement, Ivan, wasn’t even worse. Parker had told me they divided prisoners and guards up by time of death and location, but I couldn’t imagine this man living in Minneapolis. He reminded me of Arnold Schwarzenegger, tall and broad with blond hair in a military cut and a thick Eastern European accent. And for whatever reason, he hated me.

  “You, bitch,” he called out to me. I tried not to acknowledge him, but he came up to the cell, hands on the bars, almost screaming at me. “Bitch. Look at me.”

  I still refused. He couldn’t touch me. But he could lean in, whisper in my ear. “I bet you were really good as sucking cock with that cute little mouth of yours, weren’t you?”

  I squared my jaw before I turned around, looking him right in the ice blue eyes. “Too bad you’ll never find out.”

  He looked like he wanted to punch me. His face turned a shade of red that made his hair look white. Instead, he just huffed before stomping away.

  That was the first bout of harassment, but not nearly the last.

  Hey, bitch,” he called out.

  I was so not in the mood for this. I had repeated my facts in my head over and over—

  My name is Megan Anne Cross.

  I am twenty-six years old.

  My birthday is July fifth.

  My parents are Susan and Kenneth.

  I was born in Minneapolis.

  I have two sisters.

  I am allergic to shellfish.

  I work at the university.

  —but it was doing nothing to sooth my stress and anxiety. I was already on edge when he began his rude words.

  “What the fuck is your problem?” I asked him, pulling myself to my feet.

  “I’d keep that mouth shut if I were you,” he said.

  “Oh, shut up,” I told him. “God, you’re so obnoxious.”

  “Sorry, am I bothering you?” he asked with faux sincerity. “Didn’t mean it.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I want to know how your tight pussy would feel if I was inside you.”

  “Well, you’re never going to get that chance, are you?” I said.

  “I wouldn’t be so sure,” he said with a smirk before turning and walking away. I was left watching him, and if I could have gotten goosebumps, I would have. Every time Ivan came near me, I felt sick to my stomach, stepping back and hiding in the shadows until he passed. He had essentially threatened me, and though it was vague, it terrified me. I didn’t know what his plan was, and that made things even worse.

  I’d find out soon enough.

  Not long after our encounter where he’d threatened me, he came back. I’d hidden in the shadows again, but it didn’t matter.

  “Hey, bitch,” he called out to me. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

  I thought I was safe, pressed back into the corner of the cell, hidden by shadows, but I heard th
e sound of the cell door unlock and my heart sank deep into my stomach.

  “Come on. We’ve got a date.”

  He reached in and grabbed my arm, squeezing it as he wrenched me out of the cell. I nearly lost my footing as I stumbled after him, almost tripping.

  “Come on, can’t you keep up the same way you run your mouth?” he asked.

  “Let me go.” I tried to keep my voice steady, but it shook.

  “Not so brave now,” he said with a smirk.

  “Let me go.”

  “Nope. Your turn in the torture chamber. I wonder what they’ll do to you today. Burn you? Break some bones?”

  I yanked my arm back, trying to break free. His grip was iron-tight, though I wasn’t sure if that was his normal strength, or if that was something he got from his new position as a guard.

  I dug my heels into the ground as much as I could, pulling back, thrashing. He was much harsher than Parker had been, and knowing what was coming filled me even more with dread.

  “Quit squirming,” Ivan said. “I could break your arm if I wanted to.”

  As if I wasn’t going to be in enough pain. Still, I wasn’t going to let him take me easily. I fought with everything that I had. It wasn’t enough. He pulled me down the spiral staircase to the pit.

  Leaving the pit wasn’t much different than it had been the first time. Pain racked my entire body, every nerve on fire from head to toe. This time, I didn’t have the luxury of Parker. I had no one to coddle me, carry me up the endless flight of stairs. Ivan dragged me by my wrists, each bruise banging against the rocks and hard ground of the steps. I hardly had the energy to cry out, nevertheless fight back. My bones felt like jelly. I could hardly breathe.

  Ivan dragged me from the stairs onto solid ground. I thought he’d bring me back to the steps, but of course, someone like him would take advantage when he could. I had nothing left to fight back with, and he knew it. Ivan pulled me into a dark corner of the circle and dropped my wrists. I flopped to the ground, no energy to move. Ivan knelt down on the ground and shoved me over onto my back. He yanked my legs apart and I cried out.

  “All right,” he said in his thick accent. “I haven’t gotten any action since I got here.”

  “Stop,” I cried, but my voice was soft. I didn’t have the energy to protest loudly.

  Ivan hooked his thick fingers into the waist of my jeans. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”

  “What the hell is going on?”

  Ivan turned. I glanced over to see Parker standing there, arms crossed. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Just having a little fun.”

  “You think this place is for fun?” Parker said. “Get up. I’m taking over.”

  “I’ll be back for you,” Ivan said before standing up.

  My vision was full of spots as I glanced at Parker. I wanted to say his name, to smile, but I couldn’t even do that.

  “Oh my God, Meg, I’m so sorry.”

  He knelt down and put my head in his lap, brushing hair out of my face softly. “I’m so, so sorry.”

  “Not your fault,” I croaked out. “He had it out for me.”

  “I’m so sorry,” he repeated.

  “Please don’t blame yourself.”

  “It’s my fault they took you.”

  I frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “It was my punishment. I refused to try to make a deal with someone. They know that I care about you, and they did this to torture me. As soon as I found out, I rushed to find you. I was too late.”

  “You were right on time,” I said.

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  “I shouldn’t have—” I tried to find the words, but the pain was so overwhelming I could hardly think. “I shouldn’t have told you to make the deals.”

  “No,” he said earnestly. “That’s the thing. I think I’ve found our way out.”

  Chapter Ten

  We had to come up with our plan in bits and pieces, whenever Parker could sneak away. I wasn’t thrilled with our options, but they were limited, and I couldn’t really protest. Our voices had to stay low, murmurs and whispers between the bars of my cell in stolen moments. We didn’t know how long we’d have to wait until we could put our plan into action; it all depended on when I was pulled for torture again.

  Ivan had been replaced. Parker had reported him and Ivan had been placed into his own cell. Rape was strictly off-limits in hell, oddly enough. Guards and prisoners weren’t allowed anything that gave them pleasure. I was relieved that I was never going to have to deal with him again, especially since my new guard, whose name I hadn’t learned, didn’t seem to give a shit about me. She kept her distance, giving me a curt nod. She had never introduced herself, but I didn’t care since she didn’t care if Parker slipped over to talk to me every once in a while. She generally pretended I didn’t exist, and that was just fine by me.

  I was still restless, still anxious, but now I had something to look forward to, something to drive me. I was in planning mode. We were getting out of here.

  I just had to deal with some pain first.

  We had discussed it at length, but our conclusions stayed the same. The only way I would be able to get out of my cell was if I was being called for torture. I had wanted to make a break for it before the torture happened, but as Parker pointed out, that would only raise suspicion faster. They knew I was supposed to be coming to the chambers, and if I didn’t arrive, they’d investigate why. The only way I was going to be able to slip away without being noticed was if we made a break for it after my torture was over. That came with its own complications, however. I would be in pain and moving slow. Parker promised he would help me, and he really had no choice if he wanted us both to make it out all right.

  I hadn’t told Parker, but I was terrified. I didn’t want to imagine the sort of pain that could be brought down on us if we were caught. And if I had to admit it, I was even more worried about Parker. He had more at stake than I did. He was in a higher position, and therefore had higher to fall. He could end up stuck in his own little cell, and I would never see him again. That was the most terrifying thing of all.

  I was sitting in my cell, back against the wall, going over our plan. There were so many unknowns, so much that I had to trust Parker on. That was hard for me. When I had been alive and robbing banks, I had been the one coordinating our way to and from the banks. I was stuck in my cell, so I had no way to help plan our escape.

  I caught sight of Parker and immediately perked up. He never met my eyes, only slowed slightly.

  “Get ready,” he said. “They’ll call you soon.”

  I nodded slightly, enough for him to see but not enough for my new guard to notice. When she showed up to take me, I pretended to act surprised. I used all my skills from high school drama to pitch a fit, kicking and screaming, protesting, digging my heals in, crying. She didn’t say anything the entire time, her face stoic. Her grip on my arm never wavered or weakened, strong like iron, just like Ivan and Parker.

  We reached the bottom of the stairs and without a word, she shoved me into one of the chambers.

  When I was released from torture, my new guard wasn’t there. Instead, it was Parker, looking over me. I wanted to give him a smile, but I could hardly manage that.

  “Let’s get you upstairs,” he said.

  He lifted me in his arms, effortlessly carrying me up the stairs. He brought me to the same shadowed corner he had the first time I had been tortured and carefully sat down against the wall, my head against his shoulder.

  “As soon as you start feeling better, we’ll go,” he said. “But not a moment before.”

  “We can’t wait too long, or they’ll notice you’re missing, won’t they?”

  “I’ve got a little time,” he said. “When I found out you were going to be tortured, I requested an assignment.”

  “You can do that?”

  “They keep a list of people that are more likely to take a deal, and people
can request deals, too. If they have a lead, we can ask for a trip up.”

  “Sounds like normal retail.”

  “Kind of is.”

  “But where are they sending you?”

  “Argentina, but it doesn’t matter. I’ve figured out a way to get where we want to go.”

  “Won’t they know that you didn’t go to the right place?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know how closely they pay attention. So when we get there, we have to get out of there as fast as possible.”

  “Where are you planning on us coming out?”

  “If my coordinates are right, it’ll be in the west part of the city. You lived east, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And I was more south, so it’ll be hard for them to find us.”

  “Are you sure they won’t be able to track us? I can’t imagine they just let demons run free.”

  He paused. “We’ll be on a time limit. The equivalent of a few days on earth. Less if they find us, but I’m hoping it doesn’t come to that.”

  “That’s not a lot of time.”

  “It’s not, but I’m hoping we can do everything we need to. We’ll have to get to your house and let your old boyfriend know where his money is.”

  It didn’t slip past my attention that he had said “old” boyfriend, but I didn’t mention it to him. It seemed wrong when I was resting in his arms and he was comforting me. Besides, if I ignored it, I wouldn’t have to think about how I was still torn between Parker and Mitchell. It only made my anxiety rise higher than it already was.

  “Do you think you can walk?” he murmured to me after a long, long moment of quiet.

  “I can try,” I said. Parker climbed to his feet and held his hand out to help me up along with him. My legs were shaky, pain shooting up them as I stood and straightened them. I was like a newborn calf, and I grasped Parker’s arm.

  “All right, there you go,” he said. “We’ll wait until you’re a little bit more steady. I want you ready to run if necessary.”

  I nodded. “I’m trying.”

  “Hey, no rush, all right?” he said. “We’ve just got to stay out of sight.”

  I tested my legs, bending them, moving up and down. They were still weak. “Can we walk around?” I asked. “That might help.”