by Bruce Blake
“I can’t believe she didn’t tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
Piper sighed and leaned against the red vinyl back of the booth seat.
“She’s under investigation.”
“Investigation?” What the Hell was she talking about? “What the Hell are you talking about?”
“Certain people are suspicious,” she answered with more nonchalance than the subject appeared to warrant. “They think she might be playing for the other side.”
My frown disappeared and I laughed out loud.
“Poe? Ridiculous.”
“Really? What about all the Carrions around when you harvest a soul?’
I’d been thinking about the Carrions since Piper mentioned it before and couldn’t deny I seemed to attract them like kids to an ice cream truck.
“Why do you suppose they keep showing up, Icarus? Do you think Gabriel’s sloppy with the scrolls?”
Gabe always seemed quite casual but I guessed one didn’t get to be an archangel by being bad at their job.
“I just thought the Carrions always showed up.”
“No one gives them scrolls when someone’s dying. They show up if they get wind of it on the streets, if someone leaks the info.”
I leaned forward, elbows on the table, and propped my chin on my fists.
“Poe. I don’t believe it.”
Piper shrugged again and rose from her seat.
“Why do you think she’s nervous all the time? Why do you think she’s so afraid of Michael?”
“Yeah, but--”
“It’s time for us to go, there’s souls a-waitin’. Pay the lady.”
She walked out of the restaurant leaving me pondering her words. I looked longingly one last time at the pork left on my plate—I usually maintain a strict policy of ‘no meat gets left behind,’ but we did have things to accomplish. I left a twenty on the table and followed the angel out, my head spinning with her revelation.
Had Poe been setting me up all this time?
Bruce Blake-All Who Wander Are Lost
Chapter Ten
We entered Hell through an abandoned warehouse near the water this time and, upon our arrival, found no river Styx to cross. Instead, a wide chasm separated us from the city. I stepped up to the edge and peered down the sheer side at a swirl of mist hiding the bottom. Mind you, this was Hell, so who knew if a bottom lurked down there or not.
“This doesn’t look good,” I said doing my Captain Obvious impression.
“There must be some way across.”
Piper wandered off to the right and I watched her go—clearly no way across in that direction. I looked the other way and saw the fissure stretching away to the distant, hazy horizon. On our side of the gap, the land was desolate and barren, on the other, the city seemed to go on forever. With the chasm too wide to jump, the sides too sheer to climb—not that I’d have climbed down into the eerie mist, anyway—there seemed no way to get there from here.
“Icarus. Look over here.”
A hundred yards along the ravine, Piper stood at the end of a decrepit bridge of rope and wood planks. It swung gently over the gap despite the stillness of the air.
That wasn’t there a minute ago.
A shiver wiggled its way up my spine. Something about this made me several steps beyond nervous, but I joined Piper by the bridge, anyway.
“I don’t feel good about this,” I said.
“What’s there to feel good about? This is Hell. Do you want to find your friends or not?”
Good point. Nothing would be easy down here; frankly, it surprised me we weren’t being melted or something.
“You’re right. Let’s get on with it.”
I put one tentative foot on the first wooden plank, testing its strength. When I looked across to the other side, I saw a man standing mid-bridge, a black cowl hiding his face.
He wasn’t there a minute ago.
“Shit.”
“What is it?” Piper asked.
I pointed to the figure as she stretched to peer around me.
“Hmm, bridge-keeper,” she said.
“Great. He’s not going to ask me the air-speed velocity of an un-laden swallow, is he?”
“What?”
“Monty Python and the Holy Grail. You angels should rent more movies, you’re really missing out.”
“I’m more a Meaning of Life fan.”
I stared at her for a second before laughing, but the merriment died quickly as I took a step onto the bridge, the plank beneath my foot creaking, as expected. Two more steps set the bridge rocking slightly. I stared ahead at the figure blocking my way—he seemed unconcerned by my presence or the motion I created.
“Wait here until I deal with him,” I said over my shoulder. Piper made a noise of agreement.
I took a few more steps, choosing my footing carefully to avoid slipping through the gaping spaces between some boards. The rope sides of the bridge made stretching sounds, the way they do in thrillers to indicate their impending break.
Great.
A few yards short of the bridge keeper, I stopped and regarded him. His black outfit hung to the wooden planks, hiding his feet, while the cowl left his face shadowed. I felt like I’d either run into the grim reaper who’d left his sickle at home, or I’d been transported into Dickens’ A Christmas Carol and this fellow was to show me my Christmases yet-to-be. Didn’t like the sound of either.
“Hello,” I ventured.
No reply.
I took another step toward him, the bridge trembling along with my knees, my knuckles white as I gripped the rope sides. One more step and the figure extended his arm, the black robe falling away to reveal an old-yet-unremarkable hand –no skeletal fingers, hook or stump.
I began breathing again. Until I realized he wanted payment.
“Payment,” I said without intending to verbalize the thought.
A gust of wind rose from nowhere, stirring the keeper’s hood to look as though he nodded. I reached my hand toward his, willing it to keep from quivering.
This time, when our hands touched and the figure transformed, I was ready.
The cowl and cloak melted away from a hog-like head with flat nose, bulging eyes and short tusks. The beast lunged at me with its mouth full of yellow, misshapen teeth agape, but I zigged. Its jaws snapped closed in surprise and, before it recovering its balance, I jammed my shoulder into its solar-plexus and toppled it over the side.
The bridge rocked wildly as it somersaulted over the side, pitching into the chasm below. It fell silently, cloak snapping in the air as it fell—no cursing my name, no scream of fear or hate. I grabbed one side of the bridge with both hands, holding on for my after-life until the motion of the bridge settled. When it did, I straightened, faced Piper with a smile and gave her a confident wave.
She didn’t smile back, giving me a look of concern instead. My smile faded as she pointed over my shoulder, warning me. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.
I turned, but the beast didn’t give me time for fancy moves. It lowered its head and surged forward, the two short tusks digging into my gut. The force lifted my feet off the planks; pain shot through my gut, swirled into my head. My upper torso leaned precariously over the side and I stared into the abyss. For the first time, I saw shapes swirling in the mist, indistinguishable yet undeniably huge and dangerous. I struggled to right myself.
The beast’s forward motion stopped and I fell to the splintered boards as it pulled its tusks free; it felt like my entrails followed them. Hands clutching my mid-section, I rolled onto my side and peered into the mist again as it swirled and roiled with the flap of great wings. Teetering on the edge of oblivion, I closed my eyes and waited to die.
†‡†
Piper’s electric touch woke me from what felt like a short, fitful sleep. She’d rolled me onto my back to keep me from going over the side and I stared up at a solid gray sky; lightning streaked through it like glowing veins in the mo
ttled skin of the underworld. When she leaned over to check on me, the world became blue eyes and black hair.
Much better.
“Is it gone?”
“It?”
“The hog-thing. Don’t tell me you didn’t see this one, either.”
“I saw a man in a black cloak. He touched you and you fell. I was worried you might go over the edge.”
“Yeah, me too.”
I attempted to sit up but intense pain in my gut like I’d done too many crunches—which for me was about twenty—stopped me. My hand instinctively went to my stomach looking for blood where the creature had gored me but it came away dry. Relief sighed through my lips.
“Is he gone?”
“He disappeared after you fell.”
“Good. I don’t think he’d have been able to withstand any more of my onslaught.”
She smiled a smile which suggested she thought me more pathetic than amusing.
“Are you okay to go?”
“Yeah.”
She stood and offered her hand. I didn’t want to take it but my attempt at sitting didn’t go so well, so I slipped my hand into hers. The charge immediately jolted me: manicured nails raking a bare back, teeth nibbling an earlobe too hard, expressions of ecstasy and pain.
And then I was standing and my hand was my own again.
The lust and excitement and hint of fear brought by her touch drained out my feet like water from a tub and I stared at her open-mouthed. Her lips formed words my ears couldn’t figure out how to decipher.
“Icarus,” she repeated. “Are you alright?”
“Ric. I’m fine. Let’s go.”
I let her lead so I’d have time to catch my breath. I’d found it by the time we reached the end of the bridge without further incident.
A fifteen foot swath of dusty earth separated the gaping chasm and the city limits. As we crossed it, the sound of rushing water made me glance back to see the bridge swept away as the misty canyon filled with murky water. A huge goldfish jumped, its jaws snapping empty air. What would a kid have to feed a fish to make it grow to that size? I put it from my mind and directed my attention back to the city ahead us. We stepped off bare dirt onto hot sidewalk.
The city presented itself differently this time: crowds filled the sidewalks, cars crept along the streets, horns blaring. Other than the outlandish gargoyles keeping vigil over the crowds from the corners of every building, this might be any city in America. I pointed to a particularly hideous monstrosity overhanging the street from a fifties-styled office building of about forty floors.
“Those weren’t there last time, were they?”
“No.”
As if responding to my reference, the gargoyle’s head pivoted toward us, the red-glowing eyes set in its cockatrice face locating us at the edge of the crowd. It shifted position to see us better.
Shit.
“Let’s get out of here,” Piper said, mercifully catching me by the sleeve instead of touching me directly.
We melded with the flowing crowd, ducking our heads to avoid the gargoyle’s stare. As we moved away from the building-mounted beast, I noticed no one in the crowd made eye contact; they all stared straight ahead, eyes glazed, more than one person bumping us unapologetically. We weaved our way through the press of zombies stepping on toes and bumping arms. Three blocks passed under our feet before I looked back to see the gargoyle had settled back into place, but one on the nearest building watched us from beneath hooded lids.
“They’re still watching,” I whispered.
“Yes.”
We fell into the rhythm of the crowd and with each building we passed I wondered if we should check its directory for a name I recognized. Piper faced straight ahead, walking like she knew where to go.
“Where are we going?”
“I don’t know,” she replied.
I was looking at a building when she answered, but I’d bet she shrugged.
The people we passed during the next half-hour didn’t look exactly alike, but extremely similar: ashen complexions, drab gray clothes, blank eyes, mouths pulled taut out of fear or extreme constipation. The latter might explain the sulfurous smell permeating the city.
While checking out our fellow commuters, I noticed a stir in the crowd across the street. I stopped to see what it was and the crowd flowed around me like a stream around a rock. I stood on tippy-toe to locate the cause of the disturbance.
“Hey, Pipe. What’s going on over th--”
A head popped out of the throng, halting my last word before it made it over my lips. I recognized the head.
Marty.
Another lucky coincidence? Possible...but in Hell?
Maybe God’s not the only one who works in mysterious ways.
“Hey,” I yelled without waiting to see if Piper had heard me. “Marty!”
I pushed through the crowd, bumping a dozen people on the way. When I reached the edge of the sidewalk, I stopped, waiting for a break in the bumper-to-bumper traffic. None came, so I took a page out of an action flick and jumped onto the hood of the closest car, intending to leap from one to the next and make my way across the road like the frog in that old arcade game.
It wasn’t as easy as it looked in the movies or playing ‘Frogger’.
As soon as my foot hit metal, I lost my balance and left an ass-shaped dent in some blank-faced guy’s hood. I scrambled to my feet and stumbled to the next car, wobbled momentarily, then jumped to the next, arms extended like a tightrope walker.
Imagine how difficult this would be if they were going faster than three miles-per-hour.
Horns blared. One guy jammed on his brakes when I landed on his hood and I almost slid off the front and under his wheels. I righted myself and flipped him the bird; he stared back with empty eyes and taut lips. From its place on the nearest corner, a gargoyle stretched its wings. By then, only one lane separated me from my goal. I looked up and saw Piper standing on the curb, hand extended, encouraging me. I leaped from the last car landing awkwardly beside her without help. Maybe if I’d accepted her assistance, I wouldn’t have twisted my ankle.
“How’d you get here?”
She shrugged. “Angel stuff.”
“Hmph. Could you have helped me?”
“Yes.”
“Why the Hell didn’t you?”
“You didn’t ask.”
I glared at her, wanting to be angry, but the thought of having found Marty—and therefore, probably Todd—made it difficult to be mad. That and her blue eyes.
“Did you see--?”
She pointed over my shoulder.
“That way.”
I forced my way through the robotic crowd, keeping an eye on Marty’s head bobbing amongst them. The black coats he and Todd wore made them easy to pick out of the gray crowd. They weaved their way through the horde keeping a consistent distance ahead. If we sped up, they sped up; if we slowed, they did, too.
I broke into a run and they did the same, right on cue.
Damn it.
I tried to dodge a blank-faced little old lady but failed, mowing her down. A pang of guilt made me look back over my shoulder to see if she was all right, but she’d already regained her feet and carried on as if nothing happened. I turned back in time to see Marty and Todd disappear down some stairs, but didn’t give myself enough time to either stop or adjust my gait to the concept of descending stairs.
I went down them, anyway.
My hip hit the stairs first, flipping me over and smacking my shoulder next. I attempted to stop myself and, when I couldn’t, went for the old tuck-and-roll—also with little success. My right arm got caught between my body and the edge of a stair and pain exploded as I heard a snap.
My spill down the stairs ended flat on my back, head propped on the bottom step, staring at the ceiling. I groaned loudly at the pain in my arm and squeezed my eyes shut. Seconds later, I felt a presence at my side.
“Are you okay?”
I opened my eyes an
d looked up at Piper bent over me, mild concern showing on her face. I bit back the urge to curse.
“I think I broke my arm.”
I struggled to a sitting position and looked at what I expected to be a subway station but turned out to be a locker room.
“Couldn’t you have done something? What kind of guardian angel are you?”
“Not yours. Your guardian angel wouldn’t come to Hell with you, remember?”
“Right.”
She grabbed me by the collar and pulled me up as I held my arm gingerly against my chest.
“Let’s have a look at that.”
Her fingers brushed my flesh and the buzz of static electricity followed it, standing the hairs on my arm on end. After a second, she grabbed my forearm on either side of the break. I felt the ends of the bone grate together and sucked a breath through my teeth as I bit back the urge to scream in pain. I wanted to pull away, but the pain subsided, replaced by warmth and a tingling like I’d slept on the arm wrong and woken with pins and needles. The sensation was pleasant and uncomfortable all at once. In my mind, I saw the ends of the bone knitting themselves back together under her touch. I put up with it as long as I could, pulling away after a minute. My arm didn’t hurt as much.
“We don’t have time for this right now. Where did Marty and Todd go? Did you see?”
I wobbled and she put a hand under my armpit, steadying me.
“No.”
Something caught her attention and she stopped, listening, fingers buried in my pit sending a tickle into my chest. I brushed her hand away.
“What is it?”
“Someone’s coming.”
I surveyed the room quickly—it looked like the locker room of a high school: wooden benches, double banks of short lockers painted different colors, sinks, toilet stalls, and an open shower area. There was a blue door with a metal pull handle in the farthest wall I suspected might lead to a gym, and a second door with a locking knob in the wall to our right, across from the showers.
“In there,” I said moving toward it with my arm cradled against my chest, though it felt considerably better.
I twisted the knob and found it unlocked, barely making it through as the other door flew open and the sounds of sneakered feet slapping tile floor and the hoots and hollers of a team of teenagers flooded the room. I twisted the lock on the knob and we leaned against the door, listening to see if we’d been noticed. It didn’t seem as though we had.
