Hell Cop

by David C. Burton

  I welcomed a screech from above us. Mephisto and Pragon finding that Charon's Ferry was more than neutral ground—it was inviolate. Even to the head of Helland Security.

  The vessel sailed into the mist where time and space was nonexistent. We were neither hot nor cold, felt no breeze, smelled no smell, heard no sound but the creak of the rigging and our own muffled mutterings. We rested and tended our wounds. Cappy remained unconscious, his breathing shallow. He seemed stable. I began to think maybe we might get him through Heaven Gate in time.

  Sneaker and I sat on deck, leaning against the mast away from the others. Sneaker said, “Charon's power, whatever it is, and the mist keep us safe, now. But from the Landing to the Gate, we're vulnerable.”

  I didn't want to think about it. “Think Mephisto will try something? I've never seen any guards or demons there.”

  “Except for the Neversitstil.”

  “Well, yeah. That's why there's nobody there.”

  “Mephisto is Chief of Security, he hates you, he's scared of what you might do, and he's pissed. He'll try.”

  “I know he will.” I attempted, with little success, to relax my body. “We have no choice. Cappy has to get to the Gate, and in any case we can't stay onboard forever. Once we make it to the Passthru we should be okay.”

  “There's a lot of open space before that. Plenty of room for that Pragon to maneuver. None of us are much in shape for a fight, either.”

  “You have a better plan than hit the beach and go?”

  “No,” she said with a resigned sigh.

  After a minute, I said, “We should get the others ready.” I didn't move.

  She held my hand in her lap. “Wait. We have time. Sit with me. Pretend we're on a romantic cruise.”

  “I don't have to pretend as long as I'm with you.”

  “Bullshitter.” She kissed my hand, and we were quiet for awhile.

  * * * *

  All of our ragged group were pumped and ready as the Ferry glided to a stop at the dock on the Heaven side of the River Styx. The dock extended from a beach. About a hundred yards across the beach sheer cliffs rose hundreds of feet to vanish into perpetual cloud. The cliffs enclosed the beach in a two hundred yard long, unescapable, semi-circle of sand. A narrow crack split the cliffs full height, the Passthru. Through that, down a short, easy slope, was Heaven Gate and safety.

  The first of a new collection of newly damned souls emerged from the five foot wide Passthru.

  “Remember,” I reminded Grace and Brittany for the tenth time. “Keep moving, especially in the Passthru. If the Neversitstil gets you, Sneaker and I will be too old to retrieve you when the River of Souls spits you out.”

  “We know, Getter,” Grace said. She took Brittany's hand and bounced on the balls of her feet as she waited.

  I waited at the front of Cappy's stretcher, searching the “sky.” Dimitri stood beside me.

  “Can you take Cappy if you have to?” I asked him. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

  Dimitri watched the souls. “Like you, Cappy has saved my ass a few times.”

  That was all the answer I needed.

  The Ferry stopped. The gate in the rail opened.

  I took a quick survey of the area above. Nothing. Just in case I took something from the Ferry for protection.

  “Let's go. Don't stop. Three Angels beer for everybody on the other side of the Gate.” Sneaker and I picked up the stretcher. “Come on, Cappy. We'll take you home.”

  Dimitri led. Grace and Brittany followed. Brittany looked back at me, her thank you and love in her eyes. My vision blurred for a moment and it had nothing to do with the heat and sand. I never wanted a trip to be over more than that one.

  We hit the beach at a steady walk, giving the line of pale, bewildered souls a wide berth. Some ignored us in their misery. Others implored us for help or sympathy, insisting they didn't belong there. Up ahead, a soul stopped as he emerged onto the beach. A bird like claw reached out from a hole in the rock and dragged him screaming into the stone. Lunch for the Neversitstil. The others around him hurried on.

  Our group made it to within a hundred feet of the Passthru when Sneaker yelled, “Getter, three o'clock high.”

  Mephisto's Pragon dove out of the cloud cover.

  “Dimitri, take Cappy,” I said.

  Dimitri circled and without stopping (the Neversitstil sometimes burrowed into the sand) took the stretcher. He put all he had left into it. His legs shook and threatened to buckle. Grace and Brittany took one side for him, and they managed to keep moving.

  I retrieved my staff and a shield I'd ripped off the Ferry from the stretcher. “Go. Go,” I urged them.

  The Pragon swooped in low. Flame blasted from its jaws. Souls scattered in terror. The beast's wings flared. I rushed to meet it. It hovered in front of me, flame hissing. I held up the shield. Fire engulfed me. I rushed in. The shield glowed red, burned me. I grasped the end of my staff and swung it with all my strength at its claw.

  The screech of pain cut off the jet of fire. The Pragon lurched into the air. I threw down the shield. The back of my hand was bright red, what was left of my flame proof coverall arm smoldered.

  “Yeah, Getter!” Brittany yelled as they entered the Passthru.

  I had no time for pain. I ran toward the Passthru. Mephisto and his Pragon rose high, into the cloud. In seconds the Pragon reappeared without Mephisto. It circled fast and came for me.

  I reached the entrance first. Visualizing the flying demon's movements, I went in, made a quick u-turn, and ran back to the entrance. Just as I arrived, the Pragon stuck its head in, its jaws wide to flame me for good. I rammed my staff down its throat. That blocked the flame from its usual exit.

  The blast from the explosion blew me back ten feet. I rolled as I landed, snatched up the staff, and stumbled down the Passthru.

  The Neversitstil cleaned up the few remaining souls still frozen in terror.

  I saw the others clear the end of the Passthru. Almost there, I thought. Almost safe.

  Not quite.

  A dark shape descended on a rope dropped from the dark upper reaches of the Passthru. No mystery who it was. Mephisto. Damn, that son-of-a-bitch just wouldn't give up. He blocked the way. A Neversitstil claw grabbed him. He flicked his sword. The claw flew off.

  I made a u-turn and ran back to the beach. Maybe Charon had room for one more.

  “Don't stop, Getter.” Mephisto's voice boomed through the narrow pass. “I want to kill you myself.”

  I glanced back. Mephisto followed me, but not fast. I wondered why not. I found out when I ran onto the beach. A hundred Guards formed a large circle around the Passthru entrance. I ran to the middle and stopped. There was nowhere to go, and I didn't have much fight left in me. At least the others were safe. I idly twirled my staff. Maybe I could scratch his armor before he cut my head off. I'd been lucky so far. I didn't think I had much luck left in me.

  Mephisto strode into the circle. “I have a new prophecy for you, Getter. You die, now. I take over Hell from that tired old man and put a stop to all Hell Cops. When souls come here, they'll stay and suffer.”

  “Taking over Hell may not be as easy as you think,” I said. Big talk. “Satan knows about your plans and has plans of his own.” Wishful thinking.

  “Ha. He knows nothing. I control everything he sees or hears. He's too comfortable up in that Golden Palace. He's lazy and indifferent and doesn't want to know anything.”

  “That's what you think,” I said.

  He waved away my lame comment and came toward me. “Let us finish this,” he said. “I have work to do.”

  He came at me, and he wasn't playing around this time. His strides were twice mine. Running was useless. So I attacked.

  I managed to duck under a sword thrust. I jammed my staff between his legs and used it as a lever to knock him off balance. All I got for the effort was a kick in the ass and a face full of sand. I rolled over, and just had time to block his strike with m
y staff. The sword cut it in two.

  Mephisto raised his sword for the final blow. I crossed the two halves of the cut staff, hoping to deflect the blade. At least the others are safe, I thought. I did my job.

  You will be safe, too, Getter, I heard inside my head.

  “What?” I tore my gaze away from the sword in time to see a dark shape flash over us. Ixsess's hook sliced Mephisto's remaining hand clean off. Oh, man, deja vu. The sword, with hand still attached, fell toward me, point down. I scuttled backwards. The point drove into the sand two inches from my crotch.

  Ixsess swooped up over the line of startled Guards. Twenty feet in the air, at full speed, he spun on a wing tip and raced back toward me.

  Jump! he shouted in my head.

  I jumped to my feet. Ran in the same direction. Held the two staff pieces over my head. The hook caught the makeshift handle. Yanked me off the ground in time to kick a Guard in the head.

  “GETTER!” Mephisto, frustrated again.

  “Ixsess, how....?”

  No time. Sneaker will help you now.

  “Sneaker? She's ...”

  No, she wasn't at the Gate with others, waiting like she was supposed to be. She clung to the cliffs high up at the edge of the Passthru. She balanced on a small ledge, one hand wedged in a crack, the other holding the rope Mephisto had used to rappel down from nowhere.

  I had no time to think how much I didn't like being up high with no safety rail. I slid the broken staff to one side and grabbed the back of the hook with one hand, then slid the pieces into my tattered coverall. It was my favorite staff, damn it. Then I noticed a small leather bag hanging from a claw. Take it, Ixsess said.

  Ixsess sailed high, made a tight turn, glided to Sneaker. She reached out. I reached out. We grabbed wrists. I let go of Ixsess. Sneaker let go of the rock. We swung down on the rope.

  Fly, Getter. Fly. I swear I felt Ixsess chuckle.

  “AHHHHHH!” We bumped, scraped, and twisted on our descent. Too soon, not soon enough, the ground came at me, fast.

  “Run, now!” Sneaker yelled.

  I hit the ground running. Sneaker swung past and hit ten feet ahead.

  “GETTER.” Missing two hands hadn't slowed Mephisto any.

  We exited the Passthru. A hundred feet of smooth slope to Heaven Gate.

  “Get your Find,” Sneaker said. “You're the only one who has one.”

  Oh, man, I hadn't thought of that. I fished it out and pressed buttons. “Good thing I didn't get killed.”

  Sneaker didn't think that was funny.

  The others waited by the Gate. Cappy's stretcher rested on the ground. The Gate's not much really, a thick, round topped, rather plain, seven foot door set in a blank rock face like a Nexus entrance.

  “Hurry up, man,” Dimitri urged. “He's coming.”

  I pressed the Find to an indentation in the door. “Come on. Come on.” Ordinarily, it might take thirty seconds or more for the door to open. We didn't have that much time.

  Mephisto exited the Passthru.

  “Please,” I said just between me and the door.

  Somebody had been watching. The Gate opened.

  “Go in,” I said.

  Grace pushed Brittany through. She looked back. “Dimitri.”

  Sneaker grabbed the front of Cappy's stretcher. “Move,” she ordered, pushing Grace through the door, dragging Cappy.

  “What in Hell are you doing?” I called after Dimitri. He moved toward Mephisto, fists and jaws clenched with determination. No time for an answer. I grabbed his shirt, dragged him to the Gate, and threw him in. I stepped through, flipped my middle finger, and slammed the door in Mephisto's face.

  Chapter Forty-three

  Nobody paid any attention to me. They all gathered around Cappy. He lay on one of two raised platforms. The “room” was about twenty by twenty, though it was hard to tell as the walls were similar to the Nexus, there but not there. Undefined doorways opened and closed as necessary.

  One of the Purgatory Attendants brought water. Sneaker held Cappy's head as he sipped. No one spoke.

  Mephisto continued to beat on the door and curse me.

  The attendants wore beige or tan. They were all ages, sizes, and colors. They radiated no-nonsense helpfulness and sympathy.

  Cappy seemed to be conscious. Sneaker and Dimitri leaned in close.

  The noise from the door grew louder. BOOM. BOOM. It glowed with intense heat.

  A high-level Attendant, no special insignia, you just knew by the way he carried himself, came through one of the invisible doors. He radiated annoyance, as well as a serene toughness and confidence that he could handle any annoyance. He stepped up to the Gate door. Placed one hand on it. His hand sizzled and steamed against the heat. He made no move to withdraw. He bowed his head, raised the other hand, palm up.

  Suddenly there was a Presence in the room. All went quiet. My heart raced for no reason. I saw nothing, only sensed an overwhelming force in the room. It did not frighten me. It awed me. The Attendant vibrated as if under great tension.

  The noise from the other side stopped.

  The Attendant slowly relaxed. He wore a small satisfied smile. He looked at me as if saying, “There, that's better.”

  A moan from Cappy broke the serene quiet. I stood by, watching the life drain from him. I looked to the man who silenced Mephisto, back to Cappy, back to the man.

  His smile faded. He shook his head.

  I laid a hand on the big Hell Cop's shoulder. His eyes fluttered.

  “You're not in Hell anymore, Cappy,” I said. “You're safe. You can let go now.”

  And with a gentle sigh, he did.

  The Attendants gave us a few minutes, then gently drew us away. I held Sneaker for a few minutes, then let the Attendants do their job. Standard operating procedure was to “debrief” souls (where in Hell were you? what did you do? what was done to you?) and Hell Cops (how did you find the soul? how did you get them to the Gate? what else did you do? and in our case what was done to you?) It took a long time, and I skipped over some parts. They were especially interested when I told them about Mephisto's plan to take over Hell. They called the high-level Attendant back. I had skipped the prophecy business before, but in five minutes he had me telling him all about it. He didn't look any happier about it than I was.

  Finally, they said I could go home.

  I had to mention one thing. “You could have saved Cappy. He was good man.”

  For the first time I noticed a deep sadness in his eyes. I wondered what he had experienced to prepare him to wield such power as he'd used on the door and still have such sadness in him. “It was his time, Getter. There was nothing I could do.”

  Sounded like a cop out. “Who says it was his time?”

  He just looked at me with an expression that said the answer to that was obvious.

  I couldn't let it go. “He retrieved a lot of souls. Did a lot of good things. Helped people. Now he can't do more.”

  “Perhaps he will do those things where he is going?”

  I saw I'd have to be satisfied with that.

  “But there is something I can heal,” he said. “Hold up your staff.”

  I'd held the familiar, but broken, pieces of wood during the interview. Something for my hands to do. I stood up and held the pieces out, broken ends together. He gripped the break, closed his eyes. My hands tingled. When he let go, the staff was whole. Four dark rings circled the area. Writing of some kind. The guy nodded, turned and left, leaving me impressed, if bewildered. Had I experienced the power of God, or just a magic trick? If God was involved why had He spent some of His power on my staff and not on Cappy? I figured I'd ask Him if I ever saw Him.

  The others waited in a corner. Grace and Dimitri clung to each other, their separation upon them. I knelt down and Brittany came into my arms. We had grown close. I felt I was losing a daughter. I didn't hold back the tears.

  “You'll be happy in Heaven,” I told her.

  “But I'll mis
s you and Sneaker,” she said, snuffling against my neck.

  “We'll miss you, too,” was all I could say without starting some serious bawling. The big, bad, impassive Hell Cop.

  An Attendant approached. It was time.

  While Brittany and Sneaker hugged a last time, Grace slipped her arms around me.

  “Thank you,” she said. “We'll save a special place for you in Heaven.”

  “You'll have to wait a long time for me, I hope.”

  “We'll wait forever.” She kissed me and whispered, “Take care of Dimitri. He's not taking this well.”

  “I will. Watch over Brittany if they'll let you.”

  “I will.”

  The Attendant swept her arm toward an opening. Cappy's soul waited, smiling, cap set at a jaunty angle, ready for the next adventure. Grace took Brittany's hand, and they joined Cappy. A last look back, a thumbs up from him, and they were gone.

  Dimitri collapsed onto a bench, head in his hands.

  “I have to go, too,” Sneaker said. “But without my Find, I don't know if I can.”

  “Oh, I forgot.” I reached into a deep inside pocket and retrieved the bag from Ixsess's claw. “A present from Gregory and Ixsess.”

  The relief on her face almost wiped away the fatigue and sadness of the last days. She was beautiful, no matter what.

  “I'm going. I need a bath and a drink. And Cappy had some family. I'm not looking forward to that.”

  I caressed her dust smudged cheek. “He was a good man. Focus on the good he did. You'll be fine.”

  She indicated Dimitri with her eyes, “What about him? He lost his Find, too.”

  “I don't think he'll be needing it again.”

  I'd seen it before, when Hell Cops lose their edge. Not because of love, like Dimitri, but when they lose the ability to sustain an acceptance of the constant danger. Like me in the Penthouse. I recovered, some don't. Or when they lose their nerve after one too many close calls. Or when they witness a particular torment that hits close to home. The ones that can hold it together long enough to get home, never return to Hell and shouldn't.