Hard Case (Quentin Case Book 1)

by John Hook

  I stepped through. The room was bright, with cream-colored walls trimmed in gold, the ceiling—or was it sky?—was robin’s egg blue. The source of light seemed to be a rhombus of glowing material that slowly spun at an odd canter in the center of the room. At the far end of the room was another source of light. It was a vortex of energy, spinning aethers that held themselves roughly in the shape of a six-foot bowling pin. While most of the energy was bright and spinning fast, there were darker rings and brown splotches that formed over the surface and remained stationary.

  That’s when I got a gestalt from the brown splotches. It was like seeing the face of Christ impressed on the shroud of Turin. Once the gestalt formed, I couldn’t disassemble it. The “eyes” were locked on me. My mind started racing. Was this some trick my mind was playing on me because I had just been thinking about Jesus and judgment? Maybe a Hindu would see Kali? This seemed so crazy. Maybe I had miraculously survived. This might be some medicated dream I was having while lying unconscious in an intensive care ward somewhere.

  The eyes were still fixed on me. There were no words, no voices in my head, just the look. I was being judged. I could feel it. I was being condemned. For what? For being too late to save that poor woman? For all the times I told white lies? For masturbation?

  For not accepting Jesus? Involuntarily, I wondered if it was too late?

  I tried to talk but no words would come out. The splotches formed a stormy expression of disapproval. The ground opened up beneath me and I plunged into darkness. I fell down and down.

  Apparently that was it. The judgment was final.

  I hit the ground hard, grit cutting into my skin. I was suddenly aware of heat, at first comforting, but then it became oppressive. It was hard to see at first. My eyes were slow to adjust to the bright light after so long in the dark. It occurred to me that it was strange that I should be having these kinds of neurologically accurate experiences when I was pretty sure I was dead and not dreaming.

  I was also pretty sure I knew where I was.

  I rolled over slowly and pulled myself up. I stood in a bleached white expanse of sand, which had made my landing less painful than it might have been. In the distance there were rock outcroppings pushing up out of the sand at angles with jagged, twisted fingers. Ouch!

  Okay, so things could be worse. I began moving across the bright, sun-washed sand. I wasn’t sure where to go, other than realizing it was getting hotter and thinking I should find some shelter. The rock outcroppings were not too far, though it was hard to be sure because of horizon distance in the desert. In the farther distance were silhouettes of mountains. It was impossible to tell in the haze what kind of terrain the mountains had. I decided to head to the mountains. More possibilities. Maybe caves, maybe vegetation and wildlife, maybe even water. In desert climates, more elevation meant more life. It was a goal, whatever I found there. I didn’t know enough to have a plan.

  I set off in a direction that would keep the rock outcroppings in line with me in case I had to make my way back. The sand was soft, making walking a greater effort. I also figured that before long my skin would be parboiled. The sensible thing would have been to climb into the shelter of the rocks until night. Unfortunately, several unknowns kept me from doing that. First, I didn’t know if this place had night. Second, I had noticed that there was a complete lack of life anywhere in this sandy expanse. No birds, no lizards, no insects, just stillness. It could be there was no life here, or it could be that they all took shelter in the rocks. I knew from time spent in Arizona that desert climate tended to produce tough and aggressive species like scorpions. I wasn’t sure I was ready to deal with what might be lurking in those rocks. In addition, I needed to know if there was anything else beyond this. I doubted I would be able to simply wait right now.

  I don’t know how long it took to get to a set of small hills, probably hours pushing my legs through the hot sand. I was pacing myself to keep the heat from taking its toll. I noticed my throat was dry, but I never become overwhelmed by thirst. I also didn’t become hungry, although I craved the familiarity and pleasure of eating. Did one even need food or drink here? Was I some kind of ghost who only imagined that I was corporeal? For now, curiosity was beginning to replace the horror of my situation. Now, I could feel cooler air flowing down from the higher hills that were still in the distance.

  The terrain change was very abrupt. As soon as the ground began rising out of the desert, the sand dropped away and gave way to dirt and weedy grasses. There were bushes and small scrubby trees. I stopped to wipe my brow and decided to lie down and rest a bit. The grass wasn’t soft, but it was okay. I noticed the source of light had changed position and thus I figured there might be a dark period. Better to nap now. I might need to be more alert at night if there was wildlife and it might be better to travel at night. Later, when I woke, I would try to figure out if anything was edible. I was hoping it would be plant life. I had no problem with hunting; I used to hunt as a kid. However, I hadn’t done it since I took up urban living. I also wasn’t sure I would want to hunt whatever I found here.

  I lay back and closed my eyes and felt myself start to slip away.

  I awoke in a disorienting situation.

  I was in motion along the ground. I realized I was being pulled by the ankles. Someone had me by the back of the shirt, something cutting into my back. Suddenly I was hoisted and swung through the air. I landed hard against a shrub, accompanied by a half-cackling, half-coughing sound behind me. My back stung. I reached around behind and felt something warm and wet. I drew out my hand. Blood. Not a lot, probably not deep cuts. I looked up slowly. Why was I not surprised?

  There were two of them. They stood maybe five foot four, but were thick with sinewy muscles. Their skin was shiny but textured, reptilian, an avocado color with greens and yellows. Their hands had small sharp claws, no doubt what had cut into my back, and their mouths were overly large with layers of razor sharp teeth. Their eyes were milky yellow. They appeared to have eyelids rather than the nictating membranes their appearance would suggest. There was no hair anywhere. They wore loose tunics of some indeterminate material. I suppose if this were Hell, they were demons. On the other hand, this could be another world or dimension, pick your construct, and these could be aliens. Or this really was just some mad dream in my head.

  They were staring at me, apparently enjoying the situation, assuming one could read from their reptilian features whether they were enjoying something or not. One of them sprang towards me. He landed on me in a straddling position, holding my collar, staring into my eyes. As his fingers tightened, I could hear cloth rip. I felt a burning sensation as the claws grazed my skin. He made inarticulate noises that seemed taunting. Suddenly, I was tossed through the air again, landing hard on one shoulder, which began to ache.

  The other demon landed just in front of me. Cocking his head to one side, his mouth eased open, revealing the rows of razor teeth I had seen earlier.

  We are stronger than our size suggests. You see.

  It wasn’t a voice; it was thoughts in my head.

  “Yeah, I see.” I tried to keep my voice steady, though I was probably failing miserably.

  Are you afraid?

  “Near as I can figure, I’m in Hell. Being afraid is pretty useless.”

  The demon—I decided to settle for that description—looked at the other and screamed. I think he might have been laughing.

  He turned back to me, a sick glow in his eyes. He bounded up on me, but I didn’t entirely register how he got from point A to point B. Not teleportation, more like watching a film with a few missing frames. His face was next to mine, sharp teeth next to my skin, hissing softly, threatening.

  You can die here. You can also wish you could die.

  The demon extended his razor-like claws, sinking them into my shoulder. No vital organs there, if we still had such, but plenty of pain. He did his little screaming thing again. I tried to throw a punch, but I was blinded by fire in my sh
oulder. He easily smacked my fist aside and cuffed me. My head hit the ground hard and I rolled about trying to deaden the ache.

  We must kill him now.

  I’m not sure how I knew it was the other demon speaking in my head, there was a different quality to the “voice.”

  Not now. He will learn to serve. He will find that there are things far worse than serving.

  And then, they were gone, bounding through the grasses.

  I collapsed, breathing hard, sharp discomfort in my shoulder and back. What was the purpose of that episode? Whatever they were, they were obviously stronger than me and could have easily—killed me? I realized that I felt pain, but had no idea if I could die in whatever alternate universe this was. The demons seemed to think I could, but I wasn’t sure that wasn’t a bluff. If I was already dead, how could I be killed? If this was some kind of reincarnation, why wasn’t I a child? Why did I even remember who I was? Speculation was crazy. I wasn’t going to make any sense of all this right now.

  The real bottom line was clear—I could be tortured. This was a message, nothing more. They were messing with me. They were letting me know I had no power here, that I could only do what they allowed. Something hot sat in my gut, but I wouldn’t let it out. I was trying to keep myself calm. I was afraid that, if I really thought through my situation, I would panic and become overwhelmed.

  The shadows were getting a bit longer now; apparently there were light and dark cycles here. Like most things, I wasn’t sure what to make of that, so I didn’t think much about it.

  I felt down around my back again. The sensation was subsiding, no blood this time. Then I looked down at where my shirt had been torn. It was no longer torn, though I could still see where the cloth had been disturbed. I looked at my hands and arms. My skin on my hands was smooth, my arms drawn tight with muscles. I had well defined pecs pushing out under my shirt. Not Russian weightlifter stuff, but I was in pretty good shape.

  It only now struck me how strange that was. At this point everything struck me as strange. It wasn’t exactly like I had become younger when I crossed over, or whatever it is you do. I had never been in such good shape, though I always took care of myself. It was as if I was becoming how I subconsciously idealized myself, when I wasn’t looking in a mirror.

  I wasn’t sure I knew what to make of this either. I had the feeling that this would probably be my normal state of mind for awhile.

  It was getting dark. I could see the hills rising in the distance and a crown of light just beyond their crest. I was tired, but I couldn’t get myself to lie down and sleep given how I was awakened previously. Who knew what that light meant? It could be Heaven. Most likely it was more danger. However, there was no other choice but to head there.

  3.

  I spent most of the night hiking higher and higher into the hills. I probably should have tried to find shelter and slept. I was tired enough, but I was just too unsure of what darkness here meant. I didn’t run into critters of any sort, but largely I was focusing on not breaking my leg in the dark. I did hear disturbing noises in the distance. The vegetation changed from low grasslands to stands of trees and larger rocks. I could have been in upstate New York. Despite the obvious jokes, that isn’t what one usually imagines for Hell.

  My “road sign” was the light coming from the other side of a series of low hills. I didn’t know what that light meant, but it was natural to head for it. I was lucky the terrain was not more difficult. It was steep and I had to rest occasionally, but I didn’t have to go rock climbing or pick my way through fallen branches or exposed roots. If making progress had depended on seeing well enough to really pick through the terrain, I would have been out of luck. I finally pulled myself up on the summit and looked down in the direction of the glow. I can’t remember if I expected anything, but it probably wasn’t what was there.

  The light was coming from a small town. There was a main street and a few neighborhoods stretching out for ten blocks around the downtown area. The main street bisected the town. Just a little off center, close to the main street, was a public square, paved in stone blocks. On either side of the main street were narrow, twisting streets with nondescript small houses. The dwellings were constructed from mixtures of wood and stone. On one side of town, off to the left, were a collection of low, squat buildings made either of stone or adobe. Nothing was taller than two or three stories. The entire town looked like it wouldn’t accommodate more than about 800 to 1000 people.

  The glow was coming from torches and what looked to be gas lamps. I was pretty high up, but I could see figures moving about on the main street and lights in the windows of shops and homes. Some of the figures appeared human. They moved slowly, not looking around much. There also appeared to be demons wandering about in small groups. Sometimes when a human passed too close they would swat at them or push them down. There would be a whelp of pain, and that baying that seemed to serve as the demons’ idea of laughter. The humans milled about, but there seemed a curious lack of body language that usually accompanied social interaction. It was as if each man or woman was alone on the street, but there was a lot I couldn’t see from up there.

  I wasn’t sure I should go down there. My dilemma was that I had no idea where I should go. I was on an alien world, wherever that world existed. I had no idea if there was anyone or anything here that wasn’t an enemy. Whatever the risks, I had to learn more and this seemed a good place to do that.

  It took me more than an hour to make my way down the steep hill above the town, being careful not to be seen or heard. I wanted to be able to introduce myself on my terms. In spite of this, I was finding that I was relaxing a bit. Things were not an endless horror in this place. It was beginning to feel like a hard place, but not as inhuman as I might have expected. It wasn’t the first time I’ve been wrong.

  I made my way through a narrow alley that gave me some cover as I approached the main street. I stood just inside the alley watching people moving about under the glow of the lamps that lined the street. The lamps were unlike any I had seen. They were earthen pots up on rock columns with some kind of glowing substance in them. As I descended into the town and had a closer look, the glowing substance appeared to be like balls of molten lava. I couldn’t see how lava could be held in clay pots. Who knows what it really was, or even if this place obeyed the laws of physics. So far I had only been able to confirm the laws of gravity.

  It was the people who were really strange. Their faces were lacking any kind of deep expression, though they would nod at each other now and again. Their clothes were bland in color and style. Some had cuts and torn clothes. All were milling about with no apparent purpose.

  “Just passing through?”

  I stiffened a moment. I hadn’t detected any sound behind me before the soft, slightly husky female voice.

  “So far, I was just planning on watching. Didn’t know anyone was paying attention.”

  A hand touched my shoulder. Inexplicably, I felt myself relax a little. “Someone is always paying attention. Most don’t. Not unlike the world we used to know.”

  I turned around. Her hand brushed from my shoulder, lingering for a moment on my chest then fell to her side. One thing for sure, she wasn’t a demon. I hoped.

  My first overall impression was she was dark, like a lost shadow. Her hair was black, her dress was black and she wore a lavender scarf. Her makeup gave her dark lips and dark around the eyes, even in this light. Only her skin was pale, catching the glow of the streetlamps. She was not like the others. She was exotic, if not precisely beautiful. Her eyes were probing, intelligent and alive. She carried herself with grace and a certain elegance.

  “Do you remember your name?”

  “Quentin Case. Do people forget their names?”

  She smiled. “Some do, others don’t want anyone to know their names.”

  “Do they have identity theft in Hell?”

  “Yes, but it is a little different here.”

  “So far,
most everything is. I don’t think I want to know. You have a name?”

  “I’m Rox.”

  “Is that short for something, like Roxanne?”

  “Nope. And I don’t have a last name. Just Rox.”

  “You don’t have a last name or you can’t remember?” I was just trying to figure things out, learn as much as I could.

  “Whoever I once may have been doesn’t exist anymore. I doubt she was named Rox.”

  I didn’t know what that told me. I knew that, whatever happened, I did not want to forget who I was.

  “You always sneak up behind people to engage them in conversation?”

  She smiled, but didn’t reply.

  “So why did you approach me?”

  “I don’t guess empty flattery will work with you.”

  “No, but don’t let that stop you.”

  “You’re new here. I’m an escort.”

  “You’re kidding. They have escort services in Hell?”

  That smile again. It unnerved me that she didn’t react when I called this place Hell. I really wanted to be corrected.

  “You said I was new here. Here, this town, or…”

  “New arrival. New to this… world. Your coming here, this town, drew me to you. Escorts sense the new ones. It is our task to show them around, help them adjust.”

  “I don’t know if I feel like adjusting.”

  “Understandable. That’s why I’m here, to help you.”

  “I don’t know if I want to be helped to adjust either.”

  Rox took my arm in a graceful sweep and began leading me toward the street. Her touch was soft but firm. She smelled sweet, like a field of summer grass. I felt a soothing calm kick in, but I could still sense something knotted and hot underneath.

  “Where are we going?”