Heaven Bent

by Robert T. Jeschonek

  Then, the basic memory of who I was filtered back to me. The core of my identity gathered like iron filings around the poles of a magnet.

  That was when I first saw the light.

  It started as a distant, pale speck in the pitch darkness of my field of vision. Then, it slowly grew larger, expanding as if it were moving toward me. It got brighter, too, and gave off a palpable warmth.

  Go toward the light. As reduced and incoherent as I was, D.X.'s words still came back to me...rose up within me as a kind of imperative. These last words I'd heard before the crash became a command for me to follow, guidance like a lifeline for me to clutch.

  Go toward the light, he'd told me, and that's what I did. I willed myself to push toward it, and that accelerated its approach. It grew steadily larger until it filled my sight, flaring to envelope me in hot white brilliance.

  I'd made it! I'd reached the light! It was everywhere around me, its welcome radiance blotting out the barren darkness.

  So what was I supposed to do next?

  I remember floating there, basking in that white warmth, happy to be aware of it, to be aware of anything after my time of nonexistence. I felt weightless, unencumbered by the bonds of a body or the physical laws of Earth, unchained from the grip of my life. So this was the afterlife, I thought. So this was Heaven.

  Then, suddenly, there was a burst of pain. An explosion like a bolt of lightning ripped through me.

  I fell...at least I felt like I was falling. And then, I had the distinct feeling that I had crashed.

  Whoosh...then whoom. A stunning impact, as if gravity had hauled me back down out of the white firmament. As if I'd plunged back into my physical body.

  And just like that, my eyes shot open.

  The first thing I saw was the face of a beautiful dark-haired woman smiling down at me. Her skin was as pale as porcelain, her eyes such a bright blue that they were nearly white. Her lips were painted with diagonal black and white stripes; the stripes on the upper lip slanted one way, the stripes on the bottom slanted the other.

  "Mr. Lincoln?" Her voice was high-pitched and melodic. She was haloed in light and dressed in white--white blazer and blouse--but her necktie was black-and-white-striped. "Can you hear me?"

  My neck hurt when I nodded. So did my head. In fact, I quickly realized that pretty much every part of me ached.

  "Good, good." Her smile widened. "How do you feel?"

  I scowled and shook my head. "Lousy."

  "You'll feel better soon." She winked. "This is very typical when one makes the transition. Especially the way you did."

  "Transition?"

  "My name is Lillian, by the way." She tipped her head to one side. "And I think you know what transition you've just made."

  "Not really." I propped myself up on my elbows and looked around. We were in a small, Spartan room with white everything--walls, door, ceiling, floor, table, lamp, chair. "I can barely think straight."

  "I'll give you a few clues, then." Lillian leaned closer. "Pitchforks. Fiery pit. Brimstone. Eternal damnation." She raised her eyebrows. "Ring any bells?"

  Things were starting to trickle back to me. I had a memory of hitting the water, hard. The full story wasn't there yet, but I remembered my lungs filling, my vision going dark. Was that death I was vaguely recalling? "Hell? You're telling me this is Hell?"

  Just then, she threw her head back and laughed fiendishly...looking beautiful even then, so slender and delicate.

  But the laughter didn't last. Suddenly, she stopped and snapped her head down to smile at me again. "I'm just kidding, newbie." She flicked a finger over the tip of my nose. "This is the other place."

  My heart was pounding. "So I'm...I'm really..."

  "You betcha." Lillian spread her arms wide. "Welcome, Stag Lincoln, to the first day of the rest of your death."

  I swung my legs off the side of the bed and sat up straight. "Oh my God." I held my head in my hands and shook it. There was too much information all at once...too much to process. "This can't be...can't be..."

  "Don't worry." Lillian reached out and squeezed my shoulder. "I promise, I'll help you adjust to all this...Daddy."

  My hands fell away from my head. Right there, just like that, I went from too much information to total meltdown. "Did you say...?"

  "Yes, I did." Lillian squeezed my shoulder again. "You'll see. Everything's going to be just fine from now on, Father."

  *****

  Chapter 2

  "I never had a daughter!" That's what I said as Lillian helped me off the bed in the all-white room where I'd awakened. "This is impossible!"

  "Um, no it's not." Lillian laughed and gave her long black hair a toss. "You're not going to make me explain the birds and the bees, are you, Dad?"

  Standing there, I stared at her, looking for something familiar in her face. "But, see, I never had a daughter. I never had children, period."

  Grinning, she pressed a finger against my lips. "That you know of."

  She had a point. I did sow my share of wild oats. "Then tell me, who's your mother?"

  Lillian shook her head. "That's a secret. I'll tell you later." She took me by the arm and led me toward the door. "For now, we need to get you settled in."

  "Secret, huh?" I scowled at her. "Then at least tell me how you can be my daughter when you look like you're in your thirties."

  She shrugged. "Time has no meaning here." She reached for the doorknob. "All times are one in Heaven."

  As she opened the door, bright light flooded into the room. Squinting, I shaded my eyes with my hand.

  "This way, Dad." Lillian stepped through and pulled me with her. "Let me show you around."

  Still squinting, I followed her out of the room. My heart beat harder as I wondered what was coming next--and if getting expelled from paradise would be part of it.

  You know the old toast that goes, "May you be in Heaven a half-hour before the Devil knows you're dead?" Well, I was starting to wonder when my half-hour would be up. I hadn't exactly lived the kind of life that's supposed to lead to a heavenly reward. And then there was that last bit, during the movie stunt that killed me.

  The part where I shot the helicopter pilot in the head.

  "You'll love it here, Dad." Lillian squeezed my arm as she walked me down a white corridor filled with light. The ceiling, walls, and floor all gave off an intense white radiance. "I'm so glad you made it."

  I just smiled at her. Because, honestly, I didn't want her or anyone else thinking too much about whether I deserved to be there in the first place.

  We stopped at a door at the end of the hall, and she reached for the handle. "After you." She bowed as she pulled the door open and ushered me toward an even stronger brightness.

  Bright light wasn't the only thing she was guiding me toward. I heard the sound of harps playing and bells tinkling softly. The sweet fragrance of flowers mingled with salty sea air.

  It reminded me of the visit from my supposed future self, back before the helicopter crash. I'd heard bells and smelled sea air then, too. I'd thought it was all special effects, a load of B.S. from prank-playing colleagues--but, in retrospect, maybe it hadn't been such B.S. after all. The warning had certainly come true, hadn't it?

  Maybe this was where so-called Future Me had been "broadcasting" from in the first place...and he hadn't been so "so-called" after all.

  "Okay, Dad?" Lillian looked at me with concern. I guess I'd been standing there longer than I thought.

  "Sure, sure." I flashed her a big Stag Lincoln Hollywood grin, the one that always made the ladies melt. "I'm just excited, I guess."

  The truth? Future Me's words were playing in the back of my mind: Whatever you do, don't go toward the light.

  "Well, go on." She gestured at the doorway.

  "Thanks, Lillian." Not much else I could do at that point, so I straightened my white sweater, took a deep breath, and marched forward.

  When I got through the doorway, I was almost blinded by the dazzli
ng sunlight streaming from every direction. The harps and bells were louder and the smell of the sea stronger, with the sound of rushing waves to go with it.

  I could barely pinch my eyes open against the blazing light. Peering through narrow slits, all I could manage to get were a series of impressions--lots of whiteness, metal and glass, moving figures, vast space.

  Then, a pair of sunglasses descended onto my face, lowered in place by slender fingers with alternating black-and-white nails. "Here you go, Dad." The voice was Lillian's. "These will help."

  Sunglasses in Heaven? I remember thinking. But then I thought Why the Hell not? and got on with looking around.

  Now that I could open my eyes the whole way and take it all in, my impressions became a complete picture. We were indeed standing at the edge of a vast space--a huge, domed complex with a great fountain at the center. The architecture was ultramodern and organic, mostly white with rippling veins of metal and multicolored glass.

  Everything was in constant motion around the inside of the dome, layers spinning like clockworks, turning in constant counterpoint. It looked like something out of a science fiction movie--something from another world.

  In the distant heights, winged human figures clad in gold-plated armor swept around, soaring like birds. They threw glittering orbs back and forth, laughing as they played their airborne games. Some rested on billowy clouds drifting across the expanse, strumming harps or lyres.

  Down below, on walkways paved with gold cobblestones, men and women dressed in white strolled among lush gardens, smiling and chatting. Couples held hands and kissed; others ate and drank from golden bowls and goblets.

  "So this is Heaven." I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Wow."

  "It's just one part of Heaven, actually." Lillian walked ahead and bobbed her head for me to follow.

  Which I did. "There's more?"

  She nodded emphatically. "This is what you might call intake. It's a transitional zone for newbies like you, Dad."

  "Newbies." I smirked.

  "Yep." Lillian reached up and brushed her hand through a cluster of low-hanging pink blossoms over the path. "We provide comforting surroundings and familiar imagery to ease your transition from the physical plane to the spiritual."

  "Makes sense." I heard a loud bark and looked to my left, catching sight of an enormous sheepdog bounding through a flower garden. I swear, it was as big as a horse. "So how long do I stay here? In intake, that is."

  Lillian shrugged. "That depends on how well you adjust, Dad. Some people only stay a few weeks."

  "Who decides?" I asked.

  "A higher power." She laughed and looked upward, fanning her fingers toward the distant ceiling. "It just sort of happens."

  I laughed, too, though I didn't get the joke.

  The path emptied onto the gold-paved courtyard surrounding the massive central fountain. People were milling all around the fountain--some splashing inside it.

  Lillian stopped and turned to me, raising her eyebrows expectantly. "So what do you think? Any questions?"

  "Actually..." I looked around and shrugged. "When do I get to see my departed loved ones?" Let's move it along, I was thinking. I'm sure I won't be in Heaven much longer once the higher power gets my number. "My Mom and Dad and grandparents and such. They're here somewhere, aren't they?"

  "Excellent questions." Lillian raised an index finger. "How it works is..."

  But her sentence was interrupted by a woman's scream.

  Whipping around in the direction of the scream, I couldn't believe my eyes. My jaw fell open as I gaped at the scene.

  Since when do they take hostages at gunpoint in Heaven? That's what I thought at that moment. Then, as the hostage taker swung around, giving me a better look at his face behind the blonde female hostage, another question leaped to mind.

  Since when does a guy who looks like the King of Pop take hostages at gunpoint in Heaven?

  "Get away from me!" The hostage-taker was a dead ringer for the superstar--bone-thin, with straight black hair and olive-gray skin. He wore spangly white gloves and a sparkling blue military-style jacket with gold epaulets. And he was a perfect sound-alike, too; his voice was high-pitched like a child's. "I mean it!" He flashed his gun--a revolver--at the crowd, which made everyone back up in a hurry. The gun, like so many other things in Heaven, was gold-plated or solid gold, I couldn't tell which.

  "What the hell?" I was dumbfounded, frozen in place as everyone else backed away.

  Except Lillian, who kept tugging at my elbow. "Come on, Dad. We need to move."

  "But this..." I pointed a finger at the hostage scene unfolding twenty yards away from us. "This shouldn't be happening here."

  "It's not how it looks." Lillian pulled more insistently at my arm. "What you see is a metaphor. Understand? This is more an expression of feeling than a physical object. The mind imposes form on the intangible."

  I still wouldn't move. "So that's not really a gun? And that woman isn't in danger?"

  Lillian hesitated just long enough for me to notice. "Of course not, Dad. This is Heaven."

  That was when my radar started pinging. My something's-messed-up-here radar. Not that I had more than a hunch to go on--at least at that moment.

  But it made me a little more likely to do what I did next. "Well, that's good to know," I said. "Because that guy was a friend of mine back in the day."

  Lillian gave my arm a wrenching tug. "Let's go, Dad."

  I snapped away from her and started toward the hostage scene. "I gotta go say hi to this guy."

  "No!" Lillian ran after me and grabbed my shoulders. "Dad, we have to leave now."

  "What's the hurry?" I stopped and shot her my prize smirk. "We've got all eternity to kill, right?"

  Then, I broke away again and kept marching toward the action. This time, Lillian didn't follow.

  "Hey! M.J.!" I stuck two fingers in my mouth and let out a shrill whistle. "What's up, buddy?"

  When he turned my way, his face lit up. "Stag!"

  "Great to see you, man!" I didn't have to pretend to like him. We'd worked together from time to time and had even made a movie together once.

  Suddenly, his face darkened. "So they got you, too."

  "'They?'" I frowned. "'They' who? I died in a helicopter crash."

  "Stop right there." He waved the gun at me in a non-threatening way. "You don't want to get in the middle of this, Stag. Trust me."

  I stopped walking toward him and spread my arms wide. "The middle of what, buddy? Some kind of heavenly music video or something?"

  "More like a war." M.J. swung the gun around and aimed it dead-on at me. "A revolution."

  Then, before I could say another word, he pulled the trigger.

  There was no time to duck or dodge or anything else. Though I was in Heaven, and Lillian had said the gun was just a metaphor, I still expected the impact of a bullet to slam into me within a fraction of a second.

  But it didn't. The shot was point-blank, I saw the gleaming projectile flash toward me...and then it changed course and swerved around me. I felt it pass, heard the whistle of its high-speed flight cruise past my right ear. Then, someone cried out behind me.

  I whirled in time to see a bald man in a white uniform drop to the gold cobblestones. A bloom of crimson spread over his heart--blood crawling outward from a gunshot wound. A white rifle fell from his grip and clattered to the cobblestones.

  But he wasn't the only metaphor in the game just then. Even as he lay twitching, five other bald men in white uniforms came running up behind him from the gardens, swinging their own white rifles in M.J.'s direction.

  With me caught in the middle.

  "Don't shoot!" yelled M.J. "You'll hit Norma!"

  But the men in white kept charging, peering through their gunsights as they ran.

  That should have been my cue to bolt out of there, I guess--but I stood my ground instead. "Hold on a sec', fellas." I held up my hands as if to push them back. "I think the
re's been a misunderstanding here..."

  Suddenly, a huge, shaggy creature plunged out of the brush with a thunderous roar. A man rode on its back, dressed in black, with a black mask covering the top half of his face.

  I quickly realized that the mighty beast was a sheepdog the size of a horse--perhaps the same one I'd seen frolicking in the gardens earlier.

  Fur flying, the giant sheepdog galloped through the men in white, sending them tumbling into one another. Then, the animal hurtled past me and slid to a stop in front of M.J.

  Immediately, M.J. released his hostage--but instead of running off, she tousled the sheepdog's hair and climbed up on its back. She wasn't a hostage after all.

  The sheepdog licked M.J.'s face with its huge pink tongue, and then M.J. also scrambled up on its back. Before the men in white could get off a shot, the dog bounded off across the courtyard and disappeared into the gardens.

  Leaving me standing there in a state of total WTF-ness.

  *****

  "What was that all about, Lillian?" I asked as she hustled me off down a gold-cobblestoned path. "What's this war or revolution he was talking about?"

  Lillian sighed and kept marching briskly away from the courtyard. "Nothing, Dad. Just a fantasy. Heaven's big on fantasy fulfillment, you know?"

  "So that guy who got shot back there? He wasn't actually hurt? It just looked like he was?"

  Again with the heavy sigh. "I already told you, Dad. Don't take things so literally here. What you see isn't always what you get."

  Frustrated, I pushed ahead and faced her, walking backward. "I'm not a literalist, Lil. I make movies, for God's sake. I'm all about illusion." It's all I am, I could have added. "But I know when someone gets shot for real."

  She raised a finger. "You think you know. You think." She jabbed me in the chest. "But isn't it remotely possible that you don't completely understand every nuance of Heaven after spending less than a day here?"