by John Hook
I turned to the shade. I remembered Rox’s words about particularly evil humans being given special powers. He was doing the silent act which bugged me all the more because he really didn’t have a face. Once again I had no patience and spoke first.
“I’m ready.” My hands were at my side.
“A man of your word, Mr. Case.”
The Shade motioned and the demons came forward to take me. One of those impulses I get sometimes came over me and I feinted a quick motion in their direction and then snapped back. Several of the demons in front rolled back into the others. The Shade had raised his hand but stopped whatever it was he was about to do.
“Sorry, couldn’t help myself.”
Darth Vader gave me a chuckle and shook his head. He then motioned to the demons again with a little more impatience. They did not look happy as they came to take me. Claws dug in a little bit as they grabbed me to take me away. I knew it was fairly minor pain considering what I would be facing. I nonetheless took smug satisfaction in the fact that the demons were, for whatever reason, afraid of me. More importantly, although I had no real expectation that it would make a difference, I had shown that fear in front of the humans.
I was taken to a building off at one edge of town that stood isolated, away from the residential sections. I had no idea what they would use them for. Maybe a tribal council room, but I couldn’t imagine the demons having anything like government offices. They took me down into a basement room. It looked like a standard issue interrogation room. Cold stone walls, no windows, too little light, a rough wooden table and a couple of places to sit (I couldn’t get myself to call them chairs). The table had two holes cut in it on one side, at either end. In the world I had known, I would have guessed they were for computer cords, but in this world I couldn’t imagine what they were.
I found out soon enough.
They smacked me down, cutting my flesh and kicking me, as much out of spite as to catch me off guard. They dragged me to a chair at the table and used rope to stretch my arms out and fastened them down to the holes. This forced me into a bowed position. My shoulders and arms throbbed dully. This was just the warm up, I was sure. I expected them to kill me, but I suspected they wanted to cause as much damage on the way to that as they could.
I really had no idea what I was facing or what to do about it. I knew that I wasn’t going to die, per se. I was already dead. But I knew that on the other side of unendurable torture I was going to lose my personality, my sense of self that I had so far retained quite strongly. Would I miss it? Maybe this wasn’t so bad, being stuck in this place? I wanted to just give up. But I couldn’t. It wasn’t hope in any kind of swelling music sense. I was more like a dog who wouldn’t let go of a bone, a single-minded determination to not let anyone win. It surprised me. I wrote about protagonists in situations like this, but I wasn’t a man like those I populated stories with. I didn’t have their “stuff,” which came so easily when you were god with a keyboard.
My reverie was interrupted by the face of a demon pulling close to my face. He was smirking, mouth open, showing the multiple rows of jagged teeth. His mouth parted further and he made that shrieking laugh they made, which was startling, but in my present mood was a last straw.
My legs shot out as adrenaline exploded in me. I wrapped my legs around him, twisted and had him on the floor, half under my table. While I held him down with one knee, I slammed the other over and over into his throat. If he had been prepared, I never would have gotten this far with my hands uselessly bound to the table, but he had gotten too close, too careless, and my anger fueled my strength and speed. Before the other demon could react, there was the sound of broken bone and blood gushed from its throat.
The other demon jumped me, claws tearing my skin. I fell back against the table. The demon gave me a powerful rabbit punch, taking my breath away and cracking a rib on the table. It then dragged the other demon away. It appeared I had killed the demon I attacked. When I was able to focus again after the pain subsided, the demon was standing a distance away, glaring. I pulled myself up to the table, smiling.
“Why don’t you kill me?”
The demon just glared. No telepathy, no words. It hated me, I could see that. It was angry. But it didn’t move.
“You can’t, can you?”
“No, he can’t.” Fire shot through my shoulder, becoming fierce pain as my face and chest slammed to the table. It took me moments to figure out that a sharpened hard wood javelin had been thrust through my shoulder from behind, pinning me to the table. No vital organs were hit, but the force had been sufficient to penetrate the tabletop.
“Killing you is my job.” It was the helmeted shade. “I have great power, but it is so much more satisfying using old-fashioned brute force.
A dog and his bone.
I forced myself to stand, which meant pushing my shoulder up the still fixed spear shaft. Blood ran across my chest; I could feel it on my face. Rage as much as pain filled me.
“Why don’t you do it then? Kill me!”
“That would spoil all the fun.”
“Come closer. I’ll give you some fun.”
“You mean like this, Mr. Case?”
He slid his blank masked face in front of me. There was something oddly familiar in the muffled distorted voice. Why had he called me Mr. Case? Why would anyone in this world know my previous life’s name? Before I could think any further, a large stone blade went in just below my ribs. It hit something vital. White, then red flashed in my eyes. It felt like I had needles in my guts. In a single rapid movement he booted me in the chest, knocking me back off the wooden shaft and against the wall. More fire. Because my hands were still tied to the desk, I pulled it along with me causing it to hit me with force in the midsection. He yanked out the shaft from the desk and hefted it carelessly across the room.
I didn’t know how much injury was possible at that point. These weren’t like our bodies in life. I had to guess a heart or brain injury would kill the body, but anything short of that, who knew. So I knew I was in for much, much more trauma.
He stood near me and made a sudden motion and I flinched, which just invoked more pain. He stepped back laughing. “I mustn’t rush this. It is far too special. We will have a very long time together. You will be my masterpiece.”
He reached up and pulled the mask from his face. For a moment I thought I was becoming delusional. The muscular, Slavic features were much stronger, less worn than I remembered—that would be the glamour. But it was Janovic, the building superintendent. Had they reached into my mind for my darkest fear? It had to be an illusion, but it sent ice down my spine. Even though this wasn’t possible, it meant there was something personal going on here. I wasn’t sure what the implication of that new fact was and my agony wasn’t giving me much time to think about it.
My reaction was instant and instinctual. I jumped up, desk and all, and rammed him into the far wall, crushing him with the desk. Fire shot through my chest. There was a play of black-purple light, a loud crack as the desk shattered around me and I was flying back, hitting the wall hard and awkwardly, crumpling to the floor. My vision was a bit blurry but I could see the dark light, like a sinister aura, around Janovic.
Humans… with powers.
One thing I was discovering was that there was a lot less physiological numbing due to pain and trauma in Hell. I was feeling everything. In life, I would have been pretty out of it by now. I decided I had to rely less on instinct, which just wanted to crush his skull. I didn’t know what I was up against, but I was no match for him in a brutal one-on-one match-up.
“How…” All that came out of my mouth was blood. Somehow he figured out what I wanted to ask. Or, more likely, he just liked to talk about himself.
“You are wondering what I am doing here.”
“I know why you are here,” I said. “You belong here, you sick bastard.”
He smiled, no doubt appreciating that name calling was about all I had.
&
nbsp; “Oh, wait. You’ll get a very short-lived glimmer of joy out of this.” He absently picked up the wooden shaft he had discarded while he spoke. “It turns out that last feeble little blow you struck with the knife, just as you were dying…”
He turned and looked at me. “You remember that?” He didn’t wait for an answer but hefted the shaft like a baseball bat.
“It turned out that… you…hit…something… vital!” With each word he landed a blow, each word louder and each hit with greater velocity. Bones cracked. Blood ran freely from my mouth and nose. Janovic took in a deep breath as he calmly raised the shaft to rest on his shoulder, blood dripping down it.
“I killed you?” That was what I intended to say. My words were slurred.
He broke into a ghastly smile. “Oh, yes. I wonder how long it took her to die hanging over the boiler. By the time I finished another cigarette, I had bled out. I never even realized that you had hurt me. I just died and found myself falling through the floor.”
It was becoming a monologue. There wasn’t much for me to say at this point. It was just like before when he killed me. He liked to hear himself talk.
“When I arrived here, I did not come to a border town. I was special. They admired me. I arrived at the court of power. They appreciated my talent and I was given special powers. But here is the best part, Mr. Case.”
He put his face obscenely close to mine.
“I sensed you. Something about that morning in the basement connected us.” He was whispering like he was in church. “I asked to make you… my project.”
I tried to grab the shaft from his hands, but the movement made me realize that my ribs were shattered. I had no real grip. He stood and, in a quick liquid motion, the shaft came down on my head. He stepped a few steps back, laughing, blood and hair matted on the shaft. He looked at the shaft, smiled, and exaggeratedly licked the blood. I was in horrible, searing pain. No nerve ending was shutting down. I would not die, though I was half choking on blood. This. Was. Hell.
What was he waiting for? I had nothing left. He had won. He was completely in control. Then I realized. That was it. He was a psychopath in a place where people could survive unyielding trauma. And he was in control. I realized, in horror, that this could go on a very long time.
Hell.
But I was wrong. He used the shaft to force my chin up so I was looking at him. Not that I could see much. My face was swollen and disfigured, my eyes were puffing up, everything was blurry. “Don’t leave us just yet, Mr. Case. I have a going-away present for you. “I could feel his breath as he knelt close. “I have saved the very best for last.”
He used the staff to guide my head towards the door. “You are probably waiting for me to kill you. I will, of course, but destroying your body means nothing here. You will be simply reborn, with no memory, a resurrection.” He stopped. I was at such an odd angle now that my head slid down the blood-slicked staff until my head rested on the floor, my eyes still pointing at the door. “I want to destroy you, Mr. Case. And then, when you are reborn, remembering nothing, I will have you serve me.”
I really didn’t care about his prattling any longer and was only half listening. Then I heard the door.
I didn’t think it was possible to be in more pain, but my heart sank immediately. Two demons came into the room with Rox in tow. I cursed myself under my breath. I hadn’t calculated that any of this was going to be personal, which is why I had counted on their being satisfied with me. I believed that they needed her and that they would leave her alone. Rage flared up. I couldn’t speak, but I was screaming in my head. Once more I had failed to protect her. They dragged her into the room. My eyes, barely able to see, locked in on her sad eyes. As always there was something deep in there that I couldn’t quite touch. They let her kneel beside me.
“Quentin…” It was the slightest whisper. Then, something changed. In my state, I couldn’t be sure what it was, but her eyes suddenly shone. Her black hair fell across her face, but a smile curled on one side of her mouth. The demons had let go of her and her hands came up, stroking their faces affectionately.
“…you are such a bloody fool,” She finished, still whispering. As if the message were just for me.
Janovic was laughing. “You were ours all along. We were willing to wait to reel you in. We just needed insurance and Rox—eagerly, I might add—provided it.” Janovic hefted the wood shaft.
Rox bent closer so that her face was close to mine, so that she was all I could really see. I looked for a sign that she was pretending under some threat. All I saw was a darkness that had hidden all along in the back of her eyes and had now emerged in force. “I have you now, my darling.” She smiled. “And you will be my pet when you are reborn.”
I could feel myself receding inside my consciousness, as if pulling further and further away in the only way I could.
“Your friends, Quentin. They trusted you. And now we will hunt each one and kill them all. We will give them to the demons for sexual sport and then Janovic will finish each…” her smile was almost angelic, her perfume lingered sweetly, but her eyes were black as death. “You did this. You made it all happen. They will be turned into witless protos after hours of endless torture and degradation because of you.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to keep him alive to watch it all before he dies?” Janovic asked with almost a child’s eagerness.
“He has been fun. However, make no mistake, he is too dangerous to keep alive.”
“Too bad.”
The pain made no difference now. All I felt was the anger, full and white hot. It had been there since I had arrived in Hell and it was all I had left now. The anger at being here. The anger at betrayal. The anger at the unfairness of it all. But I had no body left to act.
The wood shaft came down hard on my head. Barely, I noted a sound that indicated my skull was crushed. The last thing I saw was Rox, her evil half smile peering around the hair that covered her face, like a final freeze frame that just faded into darkness.
15.
Pulse.
Sound?
Light?
Thunder.
Something is humming. Louder. Softer. Pulse.
Pain.
Heat?
Pulse.
Sound?
Light?
Screaming. Someone stop that screaming.
Pain.
Color. But it doesn't make any sense, just blotches. Now edges.
Sound rushes in. More than screaming now. Before there was just the screaming and the hum. The scream was from a different place. Now the humming starts getting louder and louder. Sounds are beginning to differentiate, but nothing is making much sense.
Just the pain.
I tried to move and fell over something. I swung and something shattered. I was strong. I could feel energy coursing through me. Everything was immediate.
What am I doing here?
The blotchy colors and edges drifted and began to attach themselves to forms, but I couldn't see what yet.
The sounds were whirling around me. They were also taking on form. I could hear voices, the jarring scrape of stone against stone, the rustle of cloth, footsteps.
And screaming. Always the screaming.
And then I realized. I was the one screaming.
The screaming stopped.
Objects were becoming clearer, although the scene remained blurry. I saw a door with a face peering through. I ran at it hard, almost breaking the door, staggering back. I fell against a table, upended it, threw it into a wall, shattered it. I was strong, I was angry and my instinct was to crush everything.
I only had instinct.
A new sound, soft and soothing. It made me feel calmer, more in control. It was coming from the other side of the door, the face. I wanted to run at the door again, but didn't. I hesitated.
I still couldn't make out the words, but the tone washed over me like cool water. I looked. I couldn't make out details well, except the eyes. They we
re dark. Deep. I wanted to lose myself in those eyes.
The door opened a bit and the woman stood there. I panicked and rushed in full fury. Instinct again. The woman must have expected it because she stepped aside as I ran through. I hit a stone wall hard, crashing to the floor. I was having trouble drawing a breath.
The woman knelt beside me. The voice again. I felt connected to the voice. I felt like there was something I needed to know about that voice. Despite the instinct to tear at everything, that single thought kept me calm. The woman's touch and voice was comforting, but it also made me uneasy.
She touched my hand. I brushed it away, again instinct, but I didn't lash out. She touched my hand again. I tried to snatch it away again, but not as strongly. She touched my hand and held it, touching my shoulder with her other hand. I liked the touch. I also feared it. I didn't know why. She guided me to stand up. She was soft. She looked so weak. I was strong. I wanted to protect her. Against what?
I could make out words now.
"Come with me. I will take you someplace safe.”
I hesitated.
"I know this is confusing now. You have just been born. You must trust me.” I could hear the words. For a moment, it almost felt like I knew what they meant, and then as quickly I lost the meaning and it was like a song without words. I looked into her face. Powerful forces stirred within me. Her face was kind. Her eyes were dark. And deep. They appeared to recede forever, an entire cosmos lost in there. I was trying to remember something about those eyes. Remember what? I had no past, no memory.
She wasn't strong enough to raise me up, but she guided me up. We were just outside the room I had been in, a small cramped anteroom with poor lighting, more blank stone walls. At one end was another door. Panic started to flood me. I didn't like doors, I wasn't sure why. Instinct again, I guess. I was very strong, but the preservation instinct ran high. You just never knew what was waiting on the other side of a door.
