by Tim Hawken
“How far does this place go down?” I asked in wonder, “It looks like it goes forever.”
“It ends about thirty miles down. The Pit is like a big ice cream cone that’s been wedged into the ground. It holds over two million souls and it’s always sold out, day and night for all of eternity. Lucky for us, all of the most talented people throughout history end up in Hell. Without fail, the stars of Earth become the fallen stars of Hell.”
“You mean none of them go to Heaven?” I asked, perplexed.
“Well, some do eventually, but it’s the nature of the business. It’s a sin to make yourself into a false idol, which draws attention away from the glory of God. If you’re genius enough at what you do, people will naturally worship you, it comes with the territory. That’s where the myth of selling your soul comes from. If you’re great in life, you must pay the price, for at least a small while. Most people revel in it, and why not? A life-time of success is worth a bit of sacrifice, don’t you think?” Satan frowned for a second. “God is such a jealous, spoilt brat that he can’t let anyone else have the limelight for just a second.” He quickly turned his frown to a great flashy smile. “It suits me, though. This place is one of the jewels of Hell, one of the reasons I don’t go insane from rage. It is a splendor of the universe, if you ask me.” He waved his hand out before him. “This is The Pit!”
I could hear the noise below change and a roar of applause floated up to my ears. I admit I was curious to see what was happening down there. Suddenly, the ground started to give way beneath us. I scrambled forward, straining to reach the handrail, which was quickly slipping above us.
“Relax,” Satan said calmly behind me. “We’re going down to our seats, box seats mind you, fit for a king, or a dark prince.” He laughed.
The earth literally swallowed the both of us whole, rocks and dirt rumbling around us in a sphere; never touching us, like we were enveloped in a bubble of air that was burrowing down into the ground. The ground stayed solid just below my feet, receding as we fell down and down into darkness, faster and faster. Just as suddenly as it had begun, we shuddered to a complete stop. There was another rumble and a hallway opened before us into an open space. The eerie green light I’d seen from above flooded through and a mass of sound cascaded towards us. It was a racket of grinding and banging and thumping, which sounded like nothing I’d ever heard.
I stopped and listened for a while longer, and the mess of sound turned into the most bizarre and beautiful music I’d ever encountered. The sounds rose and fell into light and shade, making me feel happy one moment before driving me into anger the next. It was as if I was actually feeling the same emotions as the musicians who were playing the music. The tunes rolled on as we walked through the hall into the green light. We came to a mid-sized glass room suspended twenty feet in the air and thirty feet back from the stage. I looked down. The floor was made of glass as well. I could see a crowd of moshing bodies beneath us, moving up and down with the music. There were humans and demons, all piled in together on the floor below. A fight had broken out down to the side, between a small fat man dressed in a full tuxedo and a naked demon, who was dancing provocatively to the music. The little fat man was poking the demon in the chest, shouting in his face while the demon shouted back, dancing the whole time, thrusting his hips at the man lecturing him.
I moved my eyes up into the grandstands. They stretched right up, out of sight, hundreds upon thousands of rows of seating. Every space in The Pit was crammed full. People were packed in together like cows in a cattle truck. The sound was incredible. It came from every direction. I could feel the bass shivering through my spine.
Finally, I turned to look back at the hallway from where we’d entered; it had disappeared. We were literally in a skybox, levitating in the air, encased in a glass cube. Some seats molded up from the floor beneath us. I fell into a chair which was contoured perfectly to the curves of my body. I looked across at Satan who sat enthralled, watching the stage, tapping his feet and nodding his head.
“Now, this is entertainment!” he yelled above the noise. “This is living, not like those sloths back in the lounge. You can actually learn from this spectacle and involve yourself in it. This is genius at work!”
I looked to the stage for the first time to see a pale human screaming into the air with a band of demons behind him. His arms spread wide, an impossibly high voice peeled a long stretching note, which then fell down three octaves to a raspy bass. An explosion of flames erupted behind him as the song ended and the stage fell into blackness. The crowd burst into applause. Even Satan leapt to his feet next to me, clapping his hands and whistling. He looked at me like a little kid.
“He just keeps getting better!” The Devil yelled, “I never tire of Jeff Buckley.”
A spotlight shone onto the stage punctuating the darkness to reveal a figure at the microphone, holding his hands in the air pleading for silence. The crowd complied, cutting off their applause until silence rippled through the arena. The figure was dressed in tails and top hat, like a ringmaster at the circus. He leant into the microphone to speak.
“And now, ladies and gentlemen,” he boomed, the sound of his voice reverberating throughout The Pit. “It’s time for this evening’s next spectacle. An event so gruesome, and grotesque, that it was almost banned by Satan himself.”
“He’s exaggerating,” The Devil whispered quickly beside me, “but it’s all part of the show.”
I looked back to the stage as the Master of Ceremonies continued.
“This is a battle of strength, of courage, of survival. A battle to the death between two evenly matched enemies!”
The crowd jeered lightly, but subsided as the speaker held his arms up for silence once more.
“We have with us, in the black corner, the ruling champion of The Pit. He has beaten all challengers in his last one hundred nights of straight competition. During his last bout he disemboweled his opponent on stage and ate his entrails. Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you: The Destroyer of Souls, The Crusher of Spirits…”
A flame started to flicker in the far corner of the stage, lighting a black, hulking creature as it strode slowly out into the open.
“He is The Slayer of Hope, The Unforgiving Avenger of Damnation, our champion, the Demon Balthazar!”
The crowd roared as the flame behind the figure detonated. I couldn’t see his face, but the Demon was gigantic, muscles bulging from every limb. He towered above the commentator by at least three feet, and was twice as wide. I pitied the poor soul who had to fight this Goliath.
“And as the challenger,” the ring-master yelled above the crowd, which immediately fell silent. “We have a special treat for all this evening! Ladies and Gentlemen, he is recently dead, and fresh to the dominion of Hell, Balthazar’s killer in life, and a champion in his own right. Escorting the Prince of Darkness this evening, I give you the maniac, Michael!”
ten
I SAT UNDER THE GLARE OF THE SPOTLIGHT like a stunned deer, the halogen globes blinding me. I could barely hear the roar of the crowd over my ticking mind. Had I just heard correctly? I thought frantically. Was I to fight? And this demon was the man I’d killed on earth? My stomach constricted into a twisted knot of fear. I felt someone beside me and then I heard The Devil whisper in my ear.
“It’s time to face your demons, Michael. It’s time to confront yourself. This is the next step. This is the road to salvation.”
I felt myself being lifted by invisible hands as I drifted slowly in the air over the crowd before the stage. I struggled and writhed around but continued down toward the howling black demon called Balthazar. The strangest thought went through my head. I don’t even know his real name. I turned back to look above me at Satan, who just stood nodding at me, looking me in the eyes. I felt like a lamb being led to the slaughter.
My feet thumped on the stage. Balthazar roared and instantly charged at me. Luckily, I was off balance and stumbled forward as he skidded past me, bowling i
nto a stack of speakers at the side of the stage, which scattered like Styrofoam blocks into the crowd. I had a few merciful seconds to assess my situation. There was nowhere to run to, nowhere to turn. I would have to try and fight this beast.
The hulking Balthazar picked himself up off the stage floor. He turned and walked slowly back at me, pointing.
“You sent me down here, you scum. Now it’s time to feel the same pain.”
I looked closely at him for the first time. His face was a deformed knot of scars wrapped around two, yellow eyes. He had no nose, just a collapsed hole where my fist had shattered his skull on earth. He wasn’t even recognizable from the man I’d once fought. He truly was a Demon.
“I’m going to tear your scrawny arms out of their sockets, you little runt,” he grunted as he lunged at me again. I dove to the side and rolled back to my feet, in complete survival mode. I looked around for a weapon, anything I could use. There was nothing on the stage. There was no way I would match him in brute strength. He thundered towards me again. I yelled at him, trying to buy time.
“How can you say I sent you down here? You’re here for your sins, Balthazar, not just because you’re dead. I only sped up the inevitable. I barely recognize you, you’re like pure evil. You disgust me.”
He howled in anger, lashing out and clipping my arm. I was sent spinning onto the ground, crashing to the back of the stage. My arm began throbbing, but it wasn’t serious. I climbed back up again, watching as Balthazar raised his arms at the crowd, thriving on the applause. While his back was turned I searched the stage again for something, anything. There was only the microphone stand close by. I unplugged the lead attached to it and picked up the stand, ripping off the bottom to make a metal staff for myself. I yelled out to my opponent again, attacking his vanity, his pride.
“They’re not cheering for you, Balthazar, they’re cheering for me! No one could cheer for someone as ugly as you. You’ve been deformed with hate and anger. Give it up or you’ll be stuck in Hell forever!”
He whirled around, seething. Balthazar stamped his foot in rage, sending a shudder through the stage. He ran towards me again, but this time I was ready. I fought back, taking him off guard. Jumping forward, I swung with all the strength in my body. I hit him square in the stomach, with a resounding smack. The metal bar ricocheted in my hands, sending vibrations up into my arms. The blow had stopped Balthazar’s charge, but he didn’t so much as take a backward step. The demon ripped the weapon from my grip and threw it clattering to the floor. He cackled with insane laughter and turned to the crowd again, raising his arms in the air, screaming.
“This human is no match for me, the mighty Demon Balthazar. He is nothing; he is weak!”
His words hit me: The Demon Balthazar. He was not the man I killed on earth. There might be some remnants of his soul inside, but this was not who he was, this was who he’d become by choice. The truth of my own words echoed in my head. You’re here for your sins, Balthazar, not just because you're dead. It was like a weight had been lifted from me. I might have killed this man, but I was not responsible for his further damnation. That was his doing. He was evil. I felt no remorse at all for what he’d become, just pity.
I steeled myself as the demon turned around again, hate in his malaria-yellow eyes. He threw his head back and howled at the sky. Suddenly, he fell to his knees holding his ears, screaming in pain. I looked up. The boiling furnace of a guilty sky blazed above me. The whole crowd began to cry out in anguish. I collapsed.
eleven
Covering my head from the view of the crowd, I crouched in my corner and pulled a small bag of cocaine out of my shorts’ pocket. I placed it beneath my left nostril and inhaled sharply, sucking the powder into my lungs. I felt instantly charged. This had become my pre-fight ritual, the only time I used the drug, lest it not affect me in the desired way. It made me feel invincible, capable of anything.
I stood back up to my full height. I felt fit, lithe, fast and strong. I’d trained hard to get rid of my beer-addled body, to hone it into a sleek weapon. I rubbed my bare hands over my ribbed stomach and back up again. The enhanced sensation from the drugs made my skin tingle.
I’d flown to Thailand a month previously to compete on the underground fighting circuit in Bangkok. It was reputedly the toughest in the world and very lucrative. Since my realization that I’d wasted three years of my life behind slot machines and drowning in beer, I’d become obsessed with becoming the best fighter I could. I trained incessantly, day and night, using the skipping rope that Dante had left in my fridge as my first tool for getting back to a proper weight. Completely neurotic about my diet, my only vice had become the toot of white powder I took before my fights. I was focused and ready. I believed strongly that I had become one of the best fighters in the world, all by myself. I’d been too proud to go back to my old coach and ask for his help. I wanted to stand on my own two feet for once.
I danced into the ring, holding my arms out to the crowd, soaking in their applause. I would put on a great show for them. I would toy with this local favorite before crushing his spirits and his body. I hadn’t lost a fight since coming to Thailand. I had been pushed on several occasions, but never really challenged. I hoped in my heart that I would be this time. I was ready for the fight. I began to sweat, not just from the humid Thai climate and cocaine, but also from anticipation of the challenge my opponent posed. He was much taller than me, with long legs and arms. He was fit, with quick hands and lethal feet. His name was Seuua Khrohng, which meant ‘huge tiger’. Seuua’s head was shaved bald, but he had thick black eyebrows that framed his Asian eyes. He smiled. He had a full set of teeth, which was rare for a Thai fighter. It was a sign of great skill.
We touched hands in the center of the ring and then retreated to our corners. I looked around as I did. We were out in the open air, behind a row of dilapidated shops in the back streets of Bangkok City. Some people sat on the roofs of the lowest buildings, watching. Steps had been cut down into the ground in a large circle around the fighting space. We stood in the center of the ring. Spectators stood on each tier, waving their Baht notes in the air, chanting “Suu, Suu, Suu… Fight, Fight, Fight!”
The referee stood in the center of the ring holding his arm in the air. Once it dropped, we would begin. There were only a couple of simple rules: no kicking, punching or biting of the groin; and stop when the other fighter goes limp. That was all. The referee dropped his arm and leapt out of the way.
I stalked into the middle of the ring, while my challenger stayed where he was, just watching me. I waited. He would come to me eventually. I looked him in the eyes. There was no fear there, just the calculation of a warrior. After a few seconds, he moved in. Jumping quickly, springing off the balls of his feet, he threw a straight punch at my face. I blocked with ease and made a low counter kick, catching him on the shins. It made a fierce slapping sound. Seuua hopped backwards again to the outer ring. I bounced from foot to foot, keeping light and ready. My opponent jumped in again, this time leading with his legs. I jumped to the side expertly. He attacked again instantly, with the same jump kick. I tried to dodge the same way, but he followed through his kick with a hard punch to my face, which sent me sprawling onto the ground. Seuua didn’t relent. Straight away he jumped down, dropping a knee into my back, sending excruciating pain up my spine and into my neck. I wriggled from under him and struggled to my feet, panting. How could this local be beating me? I thought. How could he be faster and stronger than me? I was the best. I stumbled around the outside the fighting ring with spectators’ breath on my back.
Seuua stood calmly in the middle of the ring, unmoving, watching me. My right knee ached. I’d fallen poorly and dropped too much weight on it. Mercifully, Seuua let me recover from his last attack. I brought my breathing under control and felt the pain in my knee subside somewhat. I launched into a fierce kicking attack, throwing my feet toward my opponent’s ribs, legs and then neck. Seuua blocked each kick easily with his superi
or reach. I couldn’t get through his defense. I hit again, looking for an opening in his guard. After a few jabs I noticed that every time I punched, he left a gap on his right side, just above his ribs. I feigned a punch, but turned and went for the gap, grunting with effort as I struck him in the side. He wheezed, as the air flew from his lungs. I hit again quickly on the other side while he was doubled over and leapt back. That’s right, I thought to myself, now you know who’s boss. Cocky with my minor victory, I turned to the crowd and whooped, raising an arm in the air. It was a big mistake. As soon as I raised my fist above my shoulder, I felt The Tiger’s elbow in my thigh. How he’d recovered so quickly I would never know, but the blow caused me to fall. On my way to the dirt, Seuua caught me with a hit to the temple. Before I went blank, I smiled. My cockiness and my pride had been my downfall; now I had reason to be humble. I had been beaten.
twelve
SHAKING MY HEAD FREE OF THE VISION, I climbed to my knees. I looked up to see Balthazar still writhing on the ground. Apparently the more evil you were on the outside the more guilt you felt on the inside. He kicked and screamed, holding his head while I had time to recover. So I’d made it back to health, but I had been vain about it. I was glad that I had had humility beaten into me by someone better than me. Again, I felt sickened at seeing myself in that light, but decided it was better to learn from my youthful mistakes and use them to become a better person.
Balthazar stopped convulsing on the ground. He grunted as drool dripped from his mouth and he stood to face me.
“Michael, you should have finished me while I was helpless,” he yelled. “It’s what I would have done!”
“I made that mistake once before, Balthazar,” I yelled back. “It cost me years of guilt. It’s time to finish you the right way.”
