“Yes, he is. And he gets nastier with age, so I hear. He's tight with Mephisto, too.”
“Great. An innocent like this girl will draw him like blood draws a Gutlick. I got to hit the road.”
“Don't you want to know about Dimitri and Grace?”
“Did you find him?”
“Well, no, but I know where he was.”
He swiveled around to the bank of computers he uses for “Domestic operations” and brought up a file.
“See here.” He pointed at a line highlighted in red. “Grace Goody was sent to the Fires.”
“What? That's way too severe, even if she was guilty. What the hell's going on here? And Dimitri?”
“The last position I have for him is arriving at Nexus 666B.”
“666B? Isn't that the dungeons under the Golden Palace? What the fuck is he going through there for? That's like stepping on the Devil's tail. Was he alone?”
Rack paged down. “A Cop called Cappy and miscellaneous demons.”
“Cappy is from LA. He's damn good. I can't believe they were both caught. Nothing for either one of them after that?”
“Nothing on the usual records,” Rack said, giving me a blank expectant smile.
“Meaning there are other records that could only be accessed by a genius such as yourself.”
“Flattery will get you anywhere, Getter, but it will take some time. Something I have plenty of and you don't.”
“Is there anyway I can contact you away from here?”
“Use the Nexus phones.”
“I can't use those.”
“If I give you the Hell Security codes, you can.”
He gave me some numbers, and we plotted my route into the Find. My nerves were tuned up and my body quivering with eagerness when I stepped out of Rack's house into the perpetual heat and headed for my first destination—the Dead Forest and Nexus 405.
Chapter Three
The trail led over a low rise to the edge of the Dead Forest. It split into three paths—doors one, two, and three. I expect to see Monty Hall here someday frozen with indecision.
I activated the Find. It pointed dead ahead.
The Dead Forest isn't called that because it itself is dead. Hundreds of creatures prowl within its caliginous interior. They skulk about and prey on each other and any of Hell's uncountable damned souls that are left to wander its trails that lead nowhere. Sometimes I hear their screams in the distance. The occasional, actually living interloper is a rare treat for the Dead Forest demons, so cautious, yet speedy, progress is called for.
I pushed for an hour with barely a glimpse of danger. I felt eyes follow me and heard odd scufflings in the darker shadows. Once, two fist-sized yellow eyes glared at me, but they didn't follow. The path led along the edge of a mist filled clearing. Anything could slither out of that pea green soup, so I concentrated on it and didn't see the man in the path till I was only ten feet away. So much for being alert to my surroundings.
The shotgun pistol leaped into my hand. It does that sometimes when I'm paying attention to the wrong danger—a survival instinct all Hell Cops acquire.
“Ho, friend,” the man said in a thick Scottish brogue. “I be lookin’ for the way home. Do ye know it? No need for that strange gun there. I not be lookin’ to harm ye.”
“Who be ... Who are you?” I asked, all senses alert. The man appeared too substantial to be a soul and the only real “live” people, Lifers, in Hell were Hell Cops. The man didn't fit either way. Whenever I meet the unusual I remind myself to remember that sometimes a cigar is not a cigar.
“Me name is Gregory Alexander MacConnechy Farquharson,” he said, taking a step forward and putting out his hand. “And ye might be?”
“They call me Getter. What home?”
“My farm, man. They wanted me to leave my farm. Fourth generation I was, and I told ‘em I wasn't leavin’ easy, and by ... by the devil I didn't.”
That slip of the tongue was my clue, as well as the stench that came out of his mouth like a poison gas cloud. I knew that distinctive smell, like fish gone bad in a sewer. A Morph Ape, no doubt about it. Before I could shoot, it began the fascinating flow into its true shape. In seconds the human form melted and grew into an ape-like creature with shark teeth in a round mouth that opened wide enough to swallow my head and cut it off cleanly at the neck. Elongated arms with retractable scimitar claws stretched out for me. I felt their sting on my shoulder at the same time I fired.
The demon let out a deafening screech as it launched itself at me. I shot again, hitting it in the chest. Momentum carried the ape forward. It crashed into me, knocked me to the ground, squeezing the breath out of me with its massive bulk. I gagged on his powerful halitosis. Morph Apes are solid creatures, and it took me a minute to squirm out from underneath and get my breath back.
The first thing I did was reload; scavengers from miles around would be on the way. Quickly, I picked up my walking stick and ran along the path away from the body. At the first turn I looked back to see the dead Morph Ape dragged into the mist by something covered with purple blotches. My scratches were minor, though my jumpsuit had three clean cuts in it. I'd only worn the thing twice, too. Most trips I came back sweaty and dirty, but intact. I hoped this wasn't an indicator of things to come.
A half hour later I spied a figure ahead. I drew my gun and kept walking as I scanned the forest on either side for creepy-crawleys or accomplices. Closer, the being looked familiar. My heart leaped. I'd been thinking of Dimitri, and in the gloom I thought it was Dimitri coming toward me! Then I saw it wasn't. It was Gregory, again.
“Ho, friend,” the man said in a thick Scottish brogue. “I be lookin’ for the way home. Do ye know it? No need for that strange gun there. I not be lookin’ to harm you.”
“I've heard that before,” I muttered. “Who be ... Who are you?” I asked. As if I didn't know.
“I be Gregory Alexander MacConnechy Farquharson. And you might be?”
“They call me Getter. What home?”
“My farm, man. They wanted me to leave my farm. Fourth generation I was, and I told ‘em I wasn't leavin’ easy, and by God I didn't.”
I relaxed a bit. The native inhabitants of the netherworld can't say things like God or Jesus; it's been bred out of them. The earthly damned souls can say anything they want, though. Satan's got them forever, so he doesn't give a damn what they say.
I activated the Find just to make sure of his status. He was a soul all right.
“Well, Gregory,” I said. “I don't know where your farm is, but I doubt if it's back the way I've come. You're welcome to walk along with me. Maybe you'll find the way on the other side of the Nexus.”
He peered down the path behind me. It looked just as dim and grim as the way he had come from. He said, “I'd be glad of the company, Getter. The natives hereabouts are not so friendly as they might be.”
“Ain't that the truth,” I said, and we walked together down the middle of the path. “So what's your story?”
Once he got warmed up, Gregory went on at length about a greedy 1850s landowner who wanted his family's land. He performed some financial shenanigans that put Gregory in his debt, then foreclosed. When the landowner came to gleefully serve the notice, Greg shot the man and the bought-and-paid-for Sheriff, too. He was supposed to hang but escaped. A week later he was shot while he rolled in a haystack with another man's wife.
“Most inconsiderate of him, I must say,” Gregory said. “I was only passing through to Edinburgh.”
“Well, at least the landowner didn't get your farm.”
“Aye, that he didn't. And I know he's here some place, too. I be lookin’ for him. If I find him, by God I'll send him to a real hell.”
We walked in silence for awhile, then he asked me, “Tell me, Getter, you are going through this Nexus?”
“You haven't been through one?”
“I woke up by a big stone and have been trapped in this stygian wood since that pipsqueak husband
shot me for satisfying his wife. You can bet your bagpipes he never contented her like I did.” A self-satisfied smile played across his thin, whiskered face, then turned into a tight lipped frown. “Ahh, what I'd give for some open land, with rich black soil and a view of green grass down to the sea. That's Heaven, Getter, that's Heaven.”
He hadn't really answered my question. I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, though. After all, he had been alone for a hundred and fifty years or so. But, once suspicion has been aroused it doesn't go away easily.
Gregory sighed heavily. He peered into the shadowy wall of vegetation, then picked up a stone and threw it into a purple limbed bush with orange leaves like webbed claws. The leaves darted out and grasped at the air while something snorted deeply and retreated into the undergrowth. “Something always watching you here and rarely do you get to see what. Unless it attacks you. Though there was the one sorcerer in the road. I dina’ sense the evil in him as the others.”
“A sorcerer? What do you mean?”
“Like in the books. Tall and stick thin, wearing a cloak with a peaked hood. I couldn'a see his face. He vanished when I come close.”
“Sounds like a Wizard,” I said. “But there are no Wizards.”
“Aye, maybe not. I don't trust what I see here.” He shook his own walking stick at the forest in general. “Ye are the first friendly face I have spied since that wench smiled at me from the hay as I passed by purely mindin’ me own business. You are a friend are you not, Getter, not a demon in disguise waiting to trick me into a deeper hell?”
“I'm no demon, Gregory. If you want to come through the Nexus with me, I'll take you. I can't promise it won't be worse than this.”
“Worse or better, I care not. If it be a different Hell we go to I will gladly follow ye, Getter, through the Nexus.”
We reached Nexus 405 a few hours later without major incident. Gregory turned out to be an affable, if voluble, companion. By the time we arrived his thick brogue sounded completely natural.
The Nexus occupied the center of a pentagonal shaped clearing where nothing grew. It appeared like a fifteen foot splinter of rough, black rock stuck crookedly in the ground by some ancient giant, which it may well have been. On the opposite side from us was a smooth face—the Nexus entrance.
“Gregory,” I said before we entered the clearing. “Before we enter the Nexus take hold of my arm. You can't get in on your own.”
“Do not worry. I will stay as close as three in a bed.”
I assumed that meant he'd stay near.
“Keep an eye out, Greg. These Nexus clearings are popular spots for an ambush.”
We entered the clearing, keeping to the right side. As we came around the stone I saw a flash and heard a low whoosh, and two demons appeared. We were too far from the trees to run there, so I pulled Gregory against the rock and held a finger to his lips for silence.
One of the demons had the squat hind legs of a gorilla. Its front legs were almost human about four feet long. It had a monkey's muzzle poking out of a misshapen head covered with mottled brown fishhook fur. Sergeant Grizzle. The other was bipedal with red leather-like skin and a classic devil's tail with pincers at the end. On his long head he had two short black horns, large protruding ears, and two suppurating slashes on his cheek. He'd had a promotion since the last time I saw him. The extra slash made him a Captain in Helland Security. Captain Boam, just who I didn't want to see, or rather see me.
They turned in our direction, and Gregory and I backed around the Nexus as the two left the clearing by the same path we arrived on.
I heard the Captain say, “Come on, Sergeant, let's get this disturbance checked out. I have new souls to torment later.”
Curious, I stared after them. What disturbance? The Morph Ape incident was minor; it wouldn't warrant a flick of a secondary demon's tail. Yet, major happenings make themselves felt over a wide area. Sort of a twitchy feeling, like animals get before an earthquake, that makes you keep glancing over your shoulder, expecting something to be there. I hadn't felt anything. And that gave me an uncomfortable feeling.
Captain Boam, despite his desire to torment new souls, was alert. He stopped, tilted his head as if listening to me think, then spun around. Yellow eyes flaring, he pointed at me with the stub of an index finger.
“Getter!” he roared.
I barely heard Gregory over the nervous rustling of the surrounding forest, not to mention my own heartbeat. “That demon is not pleased to see you, friend Getter.”
“He probably wants his finger back. Come on!”
“What-?”
I grabbed Gregory by the lapel of his coarse wool coat and dragged him through the smooth rock face. And ran smack into the pockmarked haunch of the biggest demon I'd ever seen inside the Nexus.
Chapter Four
Like Hell itself, the Nexus expands as needed, but it must have been busting at the seams to accommodate that Dinocat. He had a dinosaur tail with a ball o’ spikes at the end. Its thick lizard rear body sat back, propped up by cat legs as big as tree trunks. Its huge paws were covered with blue fur. A flat feline head on a long neck bent down to inspect us. Beside the Dinocat a KKC (King Kong Coyote) about ten feet tall, its gorilla hand resting on a thin curved sword, scowled down at us, too.
“What are you souls doing here?” the Dinocat said, its spittle hissing as it hit the Nexus boundary.
Its rancid breath hit me like a solid wave. My stomach spasmed and I tasted bile, but I managed to keep it back of my teeth. Gregory groaned. Of all the times to have company during transit. I stepped back and tried to sound like I belonged there and wasn't in danger of puking on its big cat feet. My gun wouldn't be any use against something that big; besides KKCs are way quicker than their chunky gorilla bodies look.
“I am taking this soul to Nexus, ah, 29, for Captain Boam.”
The big demon put its truck tire sized face a few inches from mine and said, “He don't look like a demon, does he, Zoat?”
The KKC sniffed at me with the end of its thin snout and said, “He don't smell like one either.”
“You are souls trying to escape!” the Dinocat said, jerking his head back to avoid soul cooties or some damn thing.
Christ, an alarm. That's all I needed. I'd be dead and stuck in Hell for eternity, but worse, Brittany would be, too. I had to get on with the job at hand.
“How did you get in the Nexus?” the KKC asked, looking like Brer Fox finally cornering Brer Rabbit.
“I have a Find,” I said, holding it up. “Captain Boam gave it to me.”
The two demons stared at the Find, working it through.
In what I thought was reasonable tone, I asked, “Would Captain Boam give a soul a Find so he could take another soul through the Nexus?”
“Captain Boam is an idiot,” Zoat said. “Ain't he, Flunk?
“Yeah,” Flunk replied with authority. The Dinocat flicked its tail, the spiked tip vague in the Nexus fog, in increasingly wider arcs—a bad sign.
The Nexus seemed to be taking an awfully long time getting to our next stop. Gregory's fingers dug into my arm; he wasn't used to such huge creatures. The pain kept me alert.
Both demons inspected the Find I held up. “That is an old one,” the cat face rumbled.
“Helland Security does not use them anymore,” Zoat said. “Let me see it.” The gorilla hand flicked out to snatch it. I yanked it back.
“You know I can't give it up,” I said. “We won't be able to get off the Nexus without it. Captain Boam would not be pleased.”
Boam was an idiot, and I suspected Zoat and Flunk were, too. That didn't make them any less dangerous, though. While I thought about that, Flunk raised a fat cat paw and impressed me as six inch claws emerged inches from my face.
“And neither would Mephisto,” I added.
They drew back at that. Mephisto was the Hannibal Lecter of demons, not to mention head of Helland Security.
“Mephisto?”
“I
t's on his orders I'm taking this soul to 29.”
The two locked eyes a few seconds, then turned to me.
“Is that so?” said Zoat.
“Yeah, that's so,” I said as if it were true.
I rested my hand on the gun butt. The two demons were up to something, and demons can be so unpredictable. Zoat knew what the gun was. It wouldn't stop his big friend, but it would tear him up. I concentrated on Zoat and disregarded Gregory's hiss of warning.
Next thing I knew an elephant-sized cat paw pressed me to the firm, but nebulous, floor of the Nexus. Two claws pinned my ears back. My heart pounded against the pressure. It needed oxygen. The weight on my chest kept me from breathing. I couldn't even gasp.
“Can you breathe, Getter?” Gregory whispered as he knelt beside me.
I could only shake my head. My lungs screamed and vision blurred.
Gregory stepped over my head and confronted the Dinocat's face.
“Let him go,” he said into the demon's grinning snaggletooth mouth. “He has orders to take me to Nexus 29.”
Zoat loomed over him from behind.
“That's just where we are going, soul. We will take you. Mephisto will be pleased that we finished what this strange demon started.”
With that, he picked Gregory up and threw him against the big cat's side. Gregory screamed as the fish hook hairs snagged him and he hung like a burr on a blue wool sweater.
The pressure on my chest lifted long enough to gulp air.
“Gregory, I'll get you,” I wheezed. I liked the little Scottish soul. Actually, I'd stopped thinking of him as a soul, and I felt I couldn't let him suffer whatever fate the two scoundrel demons might inflict on him.
Zoat leaned over me and snatched the Find from my hand. He must have noticed my panic at losing the Find. Without it I was trapped in the Nexus.
The corners of his coyote mouth turned up as he looked down at me. “Do not worry, strange little demon, we will deliver this soul for you.”
“And take the credit,” the other said. They laughed cartoon villain laughs. I could barely move, or breathe.
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