Whispers - Volume 1: A Collection

by Keane, Stuart

  "No, of course not. We've never met. My name is Geoffrey Jeeves. You can call me Geoffrey. Or Jeeves, if you prefer."

  Tom swallowed and stood up. "Who are you? My father taught me never to speak to strangers…" Lame, he thought. Fucking hell, Tom, how childish do you want to be? He's in your house. Kick the paedo bastards arse!

  "And a wise man he was. I've met him, he's a standup guy. Was, sorry." Jeeves looked out into the bedroom. "Unlike someone else we know of…the dick with the money."

  Tom smiled.

  "Now, Tom. I can see this is a bit…inappropriate. A grown man sneaking into a teenagers's room at night. The papers would have a field day. However, I'm not here to hurt you. Here, take this." Jeeves held out He-Man, the box unscathed. "I think he belongs over there." With his free hand, Jeeves pointed to the spot on the carpet.

  Tom stepped forward and retrieved his figure. "You…you didn't damage it?"

  Jeeves placed a hand on his chest. "Why would I do that?"

  "You know…you're the devil in the closet."

  "Really?" Jeeves placed his hands on his waist in a comical fashion. "Do I look like the devil to you?" He smiled.

  "No."

  "Mind you, the real devils are inside all of us, wouldn’t you agree? Which is kind of why I'm here."

  "Where did you come from?"

  "Well, you're about to find out. Tom, do you trust me?"

  "No," Tom snorted.

  "No surprise. I wouldn’t trust me either. Never trust a butler."

  The humor was lost on the fifteen-year-old. Jeeves smiled nonetheless. "Anyway, I'm here to take you on a journey of epic proportions." He held out a white gloved hand. "Shall we?"

  Tom grinned and stepped forward.

  Then all was black.

  "Wake up, Tom."

  The teenager opened his eyes. He shifted his body and sat up. "Where are we?"

  "Hell, Tom. Welcome to Hell."

  Tom awoke with a jolt. He didn’t know much about Hell, but he'd heard it mentioned in school and bible studies. He knew it was a bad place. Where evil goes to die, suffer, and fester. He stood up and crossed his arms, afraid. Jeeves was standing to his left, arms behind his back, admiring the view.

  They stood on a cliff top. The scorched sky rippled with flames, moving back and forth like waves. Ahead of them, below, was a huge soccer stadium, its walls and structure completely black. Off to the left was a shopping mall. People milled around, acting normal. The ground was all concrete, no plants or wildlife, just pure grey. The roads were black asphalt, clearly distinguishable. There were no cars. It looked minimalist, clean, and modern. Tom found it pleasing on the eye.

  Tom stepped forward and looked around, lost in the moment.

  Jeeves stepped forward. "Wonderful, isn't it?"

  "Yes."

  Tom's eyes darted from place to place. From the mall to the stadium, to the lake of solid black water, and its red colored swans. Overhead flew an orange eagle, its squawks announcing its fleeting presence. Taking in the view, Tom frowned. He turned to Jeeves. "Where are the demons and devils? Why can't I hear screaming?"

  Jeeves chuckled. "You see that in a video game or a movie?"

  "No, I read it in a book. I saw pictures."

  "Pictures? My boy, we don’t have photographers down here. True, some paparazzi have more than earned their place, but we don’t socialize with the Earth goers. This is a private place, open to invitation only. We certainly wouldn’t invite some attention-seeking press people here. Or artists, if you're speaking of certain old texts in circulation. Can you imagine if a picture of Hitler, who lives here now, surfaced on Earth? There'd be utter chaos and we don’t have insurance or lawyers for such things. Again, both insurance dealers and lawyers have earned their right to be here, and we do have them, technically, but that doesn’t make it so. So, no photographers."

  Tom said nothing, confused. "I thought Hell was the worst place to be?"

  Jeeves smiled. "I've seen worse. Trust me, Hell had a bad rep but it's not so bad."

  "Only sinners come here though, right?"

  "Another popular misconception. Tom, Hell is a place where people go to relax and enjoy themselves. When people die, they don’t want to live by the rules or conform, they've been doing it their whole lives. People come here to retire properly. Yes, we still have rules per se, but people enjoy themselves. Your father, for example. He's here."

  Tom gasped. "My father's dead."

  "Yes. And we accepted him with open arms."

  "You invited him?"

  "Of course. He was a great man, a great father. Bad people and sinners don’t go to hell; people with inspiration, passion, and initiative come here. From all sides of the globe and from all walks of life. True, we end up with some people that Earth deem sick and twisted but we don’t discriminate. Stalin was a tyrant, for example, but he had a vision. You can't fault that. True, he went about it the wrong way, but he was trying to make his vision happen, to make a difference."

  "Who's Stalin?"

  Jeeves lowered his head. "As a great, attractive demon once said, we have such sights to show you."

  Jeeves lifted an arm, and a stone walkway rose to the cliff face with a low rumble. He stepped onto it and turned to Tom. "Care to follow me? Time doesn’t apply in Hell but I have other people to see, things to do."

  "What's in it for me?"

  "Of course." Jeeves slid a block of money from his suit pocket and handed it to the teenager. Tom looked at it in absolute awe.

  "One brick enough?"

  "What is this?"

  "A thousand pounds." Jeeves winked. "Here's some Jolly Ranchers too. Suck a red one; it sets the mood for our walk."

  "You're giving me money?"

  "As much as you need. Let's say that’s a down payment."

  Tom smiled, paused, and looked down at his pajamas. "I don’t have any pockets."

  Jeeves turned around again. "So you don’t. That won't do. Oh, and you urinated all over yourself." He shook his head and tutted. "I have that effect on some people; maybe I need to work on my introductory technique. Hell isn't the Ritz but we do have standards. You can't be soiling our leather chairs with your Earth fluids." Jeeves waved a hand.

  The pajamas tore off and beneath them was a pair of crisp, new, designer jeans. Tom stood bare-chested. The warmth around him was welcoming. A small dragon, blue with yellow spines, weaved through the air towards Tom. He flinched, backing away. Jeeves shook his head. "Don't worry, Tom. Deo here is harmless." Tom stopped. He stepped towards the dragon. It opened its mouth and a spurt of deodorant misted around the boy. Instinctively, Tom lifted his arms and spun around, letting the spray tickle his skin. Once done, Deo flew off with a low growl. Jeeves waved and Tom smiled. "Cool."

  Jeeves stroked his chin, thinking. "What's your favorite color?"

  "Red."

  Within seconds, a red t-shirt wrapped itself around Tom. A pair of white sneakers closed over his feet. He whistled and a new rucksack fell to Tom's side. Jeeves waved a hand and the ruined pajamas flew off the cliff. "That's better. You look…like a teenager now. And you smell better, those clothes are fresh on."

  Tom placed the cash and Jolly Rancher's into his new bag and popped a red one in his mouth. Cherry, his favorite. He watched Deo disappear into the distance. Once gone, he turned and ambled over to Jeeves. "So why am I here? If I haven’t sinned, that is."

  "You're here, because you've earned the right to avenge yourself."

  "I don’t understand?"

  Jeeves flicked his head, nodding, and the walkway lowered with them on it, gliding smoothly down, leading them to the clean streets below. "Yes, you do. Today was one of the worst days for it. Bull, his moron accomplices, your mother, and her pimp."

  "What's a pimp?"

  "A pimp is a salesman, of sorts. He trades, and makes a profit off each trade. He also tends to take liberties with his stock. Basically, this type of scum would not be tolerated here. See the money he keeps pullin
g out?"

  Tom nodded.

  "Fake. Good fakes, mind you, but no more real than a plastic set of breasts. He's mugging people off and we, the people in Hell, don’t stand for it. It’s his fault you didn’t have any dinner tonight. He didn’t want your mother to divert any attention from him. It's unacceptable behavior."

  "It's happened before though, why now?"

  "We’ve been watching you for some time, Tom. You don’t know this yet, and we can't tell you what it is, but you're destined for big things in your future. The devil in the closet? He does exist, but he's your protector. My pet dog, Caliban. It's why we borrowed He-Man. We had to get you close enough to the door to open it. We can't come into your world; you have to open the door. You let me in, and as a reward…well, you'll see soon enough."

  "Like vampires?"

  "Kind of. We won't suck your blood though. We’re not politicians."

  They reached the bottom of the walkway. Tom stepped onto the sidewalk and glanced around. Several trashcans stood nearby. A man walked by and tossed trash into it. Immediately, the trashcan roared with fire. The trash crisped and disappeared. Tom felt his mouth open. Jeeves chuckled.

  "Excellent, huh? No need for trash sites or dumps. We just burn everything." Jeeves slapped his leg gently and a black limousine pulled to the curb. The rear door opened. "Your ride awaits, Tom."

  Tom hesitated and moved towards the sleek vehicle. He slipped through the entrance and sat on the plush, white leather seats. Jeeves climbed in beside him. Tom looked to the driver seat and saw nothing. No one was there. "Where's the driver?"

  "We don’t have drivers. The cars drive themselves. Call it a cost-cutting measure. And less of a liability. No one likes conversation whilst being driven." Tom nodded and settled into the chair.

  The car started to move.

  "Right, Tom. Let's talk about why you're here."

  "Okay."

  "In light of your future, your heritage, and bloodline, we feel it's vital that your issues be dealt with. How we do that is up to you."

  "I don’t understand."

  "Bull and his rapscallion friends, your mother’s abusive pimp…and anything else you don’t like, we can make go away. Literally, figuratively or any other word ending with 'ly' that you want."

  "You mean, kill them?"

  "So be it. You're the boss."

  "No, no, I don’t…at least…that's wrong."

  "There's no wrong or right in this world. In Hell, everything is level. These people have done you wrong; you deserve a chance to get payback."

  "Two wrongs don’t make a right though, do they?"

  Jeeves chuckled. "My boy, you don’t understand. And you're so mature for a kid your age, no wonder you're going far. You can punish the people however you want, in Hell. The repercussions on Earth will be zero."

  The limo slid silently under a picturesque black bridge. In the rear view mirror, Tom noticed a huge black bat statue sculpted to the side of it, wings outspread. The limo turned a corner and headed towards the shopping mall.

  "So…I get to punish the people who do me wrong and nothing happens to them?"

  "Depends. If you kill one of them then yes, he'll die on Earth. There's a process to everything."

  Tom remained silent.

  The car drove for three blocks in silence. On the street, a fight was broken up in record time; a police officer with a bloody uniform pulled two women apart and shot them both in the head. No passersby batted an eyelid. He picked up the bodies and shoved them into his trunk. He drove off, sirens wailing. Seconds later, the street was empty once more.

  Tom shuddered.

  "What are you thinking, Tom?"

  "For Bull and his friends…I don’t want to kill them. They're just being dicks."

  Jeeves make a hissing noise. "Ooooh, not really. Kids your age don’t carry flick knives or beat kids up unless there's a higher power forcing them. In this case, it's bad parenting. Which is even more reason to prevent this from happening to you. Break the cycle while you can. They have one year on you, we had to act fast."

  "You thought I would become one of them?"

  "We didn’t think. We know. Hence the intervention."

  "How do you know?"

  "We just do. Hell is an all knowing, all consuming being. Sometimes. Otherwise it's really rather joyful. We have the knowledge to make a difference."

  The limo pulled to a smooth stop. The doors opened with a soft clunk. Jeeves clapped. "We're here."

  Tom followed the butler through the door and stood on the sidewalk. A huge hotel stood beside them. A hundred stone steps led up to the entrance. Tom read the sign. Hell’s Kitchen. He smiled. "Cool name."

  Jeeves rubbed the sign. "Yes, we're not averse to a bit of humor here."

  The butler headed off to the side and opened a doorway that led deep into the concrete steps. "Back exit. The climb can be hell...no pun intended."

  Tom ambled to the doorway, turning sideways to watch people on the sidewalk, and stepped through it. "Why are people so normal here?"

  "Why not. They're people, just like you."

  "And you?"

  "I'm not a person."

  "But you look normal."

  "Why, thank you!"

  They walked down a dipping, high corridor. The floor, walls, and ceiling were made of gray bricks. The mortar holding them together was solid gold, creating an attractive color scheme. Tom glanced up, down, and all around. "Wow."

  The smooth bricks echoed underneath their footsteps. A guard, dressed all in black, stood off to the right. Jeeves nodded to him and the guard stepped aside. Jeeves disappeared through the entrance. Tom followed.

  They emerged in a vast, open hall. The room was circular and every surface was bright white. Shadows shrouded the outer edges of the circular room. Tom narrowed his eyes against the brightness, imagining an audience hiding away in the darkness, and made his way to the center of the room.

  "Right, Tom. This is your moment. Now, to prove the people, my bosses, aren't complete delinquents, we have a gift for you."

  "Okay." Tom sat on the ground and crossed his legs.

  Jeeves waved a hand and a chair appeared out of nowhere. "No, no, sit down on a chair, young man. None of that squatter's rights tomfoolery shall occur here."

  Tom stood up and sat on the chair. It moved back three inches, leaving Tom off center. He sat, awaiting his instructions.

  "The gift is this." Jeeves moved in front of his young audience. "You can select one of the offenders and punish him in the worst way possible. Anything goes. If he dies, you won't suffer any repercussions, here or on Earth."

  Tom said nothing. He nodded.

  "I need to think."

  Jeeves patted him on the shoulder. "Well, it's not an easy choice. Take your time."

  Tom said nothing.

  "It's not a decision to be made lightly. When you make it, think about the person and say it in your head. They shall then appear in front of you. What you do then, is up to you."

  Tom looked at Jeeves. For confirmation. "Anyone?"

  "Anyone. Your choice."

  "Okay."

  Tom closed his eyes and nodded.

  For five, long minutes, nothing happened.

  Tom nodded again.

  Seconds later, his mother appeared in front of him. She appeared in mid-air, a foot off the floor. She loitered in the air and then hit the floor with a hard slap. It awoke her with a sleepy groan. Her nightdress twisted around her waist, high on her thighs, exposing her yellow panties. Her breasts jiggled as she hit the ground.

  Jeeves looked at Tom, concern on his face. "Are you…"

  "Yes, I'm sure." Tom glared at Jeeves, smirked, and turned his darkened eyes to his mother. He stood up from his chair. Jeeves backed off, smiling.

  His mother gazed up, confused. "Hey, honey. What are you doing in here?"

  "I'm not in anywhere, Mother."

  "You know you’re not allowed into my room after…after hours."
<
br />   "Why? In case you're fucking that cunt you call a boyfriend?"

  The c-bomb jolted his mother awake. She sat up, her eyes wide. Her long, blonde hair flopped over her tired face. Tom noticed her eyes were alert, focused, and realized she was sober. No effects of alcohol or drugs were present.

  A first, he mused.

  Tom felt a smile curl across his lips. He glanced at Jeeves. The butler took a step forward. "Earth alcohol and drugs are forbidden in Hell. If she was under their influence, it was checked at the door. Also, she was awake when we took her, we blacked her out." Jeeves looked at Tom's mother and waved sarcastically. "Hi, Mrs. Jenkins. Big fan!"

  Jeeves stepped back.

  Tom returned his gaze to his mother. "Oh, Pamela. How you disappoint me so."

  "Pamela, really? I'm your mother, don't call me…it's weird."

  "I don’t give a fuck, Mother."

  Pamela crawled backwards. Tom gazed down and noticed a wet stain on her stomach. His head tilted, before he realized what it was. The white stain looped down her stomach and under her panties. Pamela pulled her nightie down, covering the obvious semen stains. Tom imagined his mother disappearing mid-fuck. Maybe the cunt was jacking off over her when she vanished.

  I hope he had a fucking heart attack.

  Pamela's face flushed red. "You shouldn't have come in…you know your mother works at this time…"

  "You're a whore."

  "Tom! You shouldn’t use such language." Pamela climbed to her feet. Only then did she notice she wasn’t in bed. Her eyes looked beyond her son, at Jeeves for a hesitant second, and then she spun around, taking in the bright white room. She pulled a full circle and wobbled on the spot, shaking, and staring at her son.

  Tom smirked and took a step forward, rage in his eyes.

  "Tom…darling, where are we?"

  "In Hell. Why, don’t you like it?"

  "Don’t be daft, there's no such thing as Hell…"

  A resounding slap knocked Pamela to the ground. The sound made Tom flinch. She toppled sideways, her hair trailing in her wake. She clipped the ground and cried out, rolled onto her back, sat up, closed her legs, and struggled upright once more. "What, how…"

  Jeeves stepped towards Tom. "Did you think about slapping her?"