by Matt Hickman
Where did it all go wrong?
Jack checked his watch, the expensive Schaffhausen time piece revealed that it was 20:07 p.m. on the twenty-fourth of December. Christmas Eve, and he was alone and half sozzled in a seedy bar in a part of town that he didn’t know particularly well.
The barman approached. “Can I get you another, sir?”
“Huh?”
“Another drink, sir?”
“Oh, yeah. Gimme another scotch. Make it a double, no ice.”
The barman smiled and nodded and walked away. Jack thought back to the run of events over the past week. His boss had called him into the office on Tuesday to discuss an issue. A property that Jack had rented to a family a few months ago had caught fire. Two family members had been admitted to hospital suffering smoke inhalation and since the event, the insurance company had refused to pay out following the residence not having a gas safety certificate - something that Jack had neglected to issue as part of his responsibility.
Despite his excellent track record, Jack’s boss had informed him that he was going to have to let him go through negligence. Just like that, he found himself with no job, no income, and his pride and joy - his luxury Mercedes - was taken away from him as part of his package.
Life sucks.
He was snapped from his reverie when the barman returned and placed a fresh glass of scotch down on the bar in front of him.
“There you go, sir.”
Jack pulled his wallet from his pocket and fished out a fresh ten-pound note. He offered it to the barman.
“It’s okay, sir. It’s already been paid for.”
Jack frowned, confused by the man’s statement. “What do you mean?”
The barman pointed his thumb to a man who was sitting on a tall stool at the other end of the bar. Jack had never noticed the man sitting there.
In fact, I could have sworn I was in here on my own.
Jack nodded to the barman, who smiled and walked away. Jack looked over at the stranger.
“Hey, buddy. Thanks for the drink.”
The man across the room turned on his stool to look at Jack. He smiled, a hint of menace flicking across his pale face. He held up his own glass. “Merry Christmas, Jack.”
“Merry Chr … wait a minute, how do you know my name?”
The man smiled, stood from the bar, and slowly approached Jack. He was tall and slim. He wore an expensive looking jet black suit and a white shirt. As he approached, Jack couldn’t help but feel light-headed, as if the man’s presence was making him queasy.
Or is it just the half-bottle of scotch that you’ve downed this evening?
The man paused and stood beside Jack’s stool, his elbows leaning down on the bar. “I know everything, Jack.”
“What do you mean? Who are you?”
The stranger looked at Jack, the lights from above the bar reflecting from his shaven scalp. For a single split second, as Jack’s eyes locked with the stranger, he could have sworn that the sclera of the man’s eyes had turned opaque. The man radiated an intimidating sense of menace, Jack couldn’t quite place him. The man smiled again, his features laced with animosity and mischief.
“My name is Isaac, but it’s not who I am that you should be concerned with.”
“I don’t … what do you mean?” He spluttered.
The man grinned, and flashed a perfect set of white teeth. “I understand that you’ve had a run of ill luck recently, wouldn’t you say?”
Jack took a sip from the contents of his tumbler. “You could say that.”
“And how are things looking on the career prospects?”
Jack looked at the man. “How do you think it’s going? I was sacked a week before Christmas. Who the hell is going to employ me now?”
“I would.”
"Wait, what? You want to give me a job?”
“You could say that. But first, you will need to prove to me that you are capable of this type of work.”
“What do you mean, capable? What is it you want me to do?”
“All in good time, Jack.”
Jack felt his wobbly tolerance with the stranger beginning to slip. “Look, buddy. You either want to make me an offer or you’re wasting my damn time.”
“Wasting your time? As you sit in this dive of a bar, drinking, alone. No friends in your life, no girlfriend, no wife. And I’m wasting your time?”
“Now listen to me you piece of…” Jack’s statement was cut short as the man lashed out and grabbed him by the wrist. The stranger’s vice like grip was freezing cold to the touch. A look of pure malevolence spread across his face. Jack suddenly felt a spike of fear as the man raised his voice. “I can offer you a job that can reward you with the type of lifestyle that you could only dream of. You can have it all – immortality, wealth, power, women, the real deal.
Jack rubbed at his sore wrist. He stared at the mysterious figure, for another split second, and the man’s eyes turned opaque.
You need to get home and sleep it off.
“So, what would this job entail?” he said, humouring the man.
“Oh, before we even get to that, I have to see if you are up to the task.”
“Up to the task? I don’t get what you…”
Jack followed the gaze of the stranger as he stared at something over his shoulder. He spun around on his stool. Two strangers had entered the bar. One of the men was wearing a ridiculously garish Christmas jumper, adorned with a depiction of a famous red-nosed reindeer. The other man wore a black woollen coat and fingerless gloves. Both men appeared jovial.
“Who’s round is it then, Jimmy?”
“I do believe it’s yours,” the taller of the men replied, chuckling. Both men approached the bar, and stood next to Jack and the stranger. Jack nodded at the two men.
“It’s bitter out there. Looks like it’s starting to snow.”
Jack didn’t reply. He found himself feeling uncomfortable as the other man stared directly in his direction.
“Don’t I know you from somewhere?” the man asked.
Jack turned to face him. “No, I don’t think so.”
The man squinted his eyes at the hint of recognition. “I do know you,” he spat. “You’re the piece of shit that evicted my family from our flat earlier this year.”
The man took a step towards Jack, who leapt from his stool, back tracking with his arms held up beside his head.
“Look, man, whatever it was, I was just doing my job.”
“Just doing your job? Don’t give me that shit. I told you I could have paid you by the end of the week but you went and served an eviction notice on us anyway. You caused the breakup of my marriage. I only get to see my fucking kids once every week, and it’s all your fault.”
Jack continued to retreat as the man quickly strode towards him, poised for a brawl. The man swung a wild punch that connected directly with Jack’s jaw. For a moment, Jack’s world went black and he landed on the cold bar floor with a thump. The man continued his attack. Jack raised his foot and kicked out at the man, connecting with the centre of his chest, sending him flailing across the bar. As he fell forwards his face connected with the corner of the bar with a sickening crack. His twisted body landed face down in a heap on the floor.
The second man ran to the aid of his fallen friend. He placed his fingers on his neck.
He looked at Jack, “He … he’s dead. You fucking killed him.”
Jack pulled himself slowly back to his feet, “I … I didn’t, it was self-defence.”
The man launched himself at Jack, locking his hands around his throat. Jack’s vision started to cloud as the man tightened his grasp. Jack attempted to slip his fingers between the man’s own to alleviate the pressure, but it was no use; the man’s grip was like a vice.
Jack panicked as he fought for breath. Frantically searching around the room, he spotted a half empty pint glass standing on a nearby table. Reaching out for the glass, his fingertips brushed the rim and it tilted from his touch. H
e continued to fumble clumsily as the glass tumbled from the table top and smashed on the floor beside where he lay. Jack looked over to Isaac, pleading for the man to come to his aid. He casually observed the incident from a distance, propping himself up against the bar.
Jack started to panic as he felt the life slowly ebbing from his body. He fumbled around on the ground, clumsily attempting to find something to use in his favour. His fingers brushed against a broken shard from the pint glass. Gripping the sliver of glass between his fingertips, he thrust upwards with the makeshift weapon. The jagged tip of the glass sliced straight into the man’s throat. Blood erupted from the wound like a volcano. His face suddenly filled with panic and he let out a deep, guttural moan. Immediately releasing his grip on Jack’s throat, the man fell to his knees. Jack gasped, greedily filling his lungs with air while clawing at his throat. The man continued to thrash around on the floor, groaning in pain.
Isaac took a step from the bar. “You need to finish him, Jack.”
Jack looked at the man, incredulously. “What do you mean?”
“He is a witness to the other murder; you have to finish him.”
Jack looked over at the fallen man. He had ceased moving, and his right foot began to twitch.
“I can’t,” he said.
“Do it,” Isaac replied impassively.
Jack climbed to his feet, his body aching, his vision blurred. He stumbled over the fallen man. His whole body was shaking from exertion.
“Finish him,” Isaac repeated.
Jack glanced at him, then down to the man. He raised his boot above the man’s face, using the nearby table to steady himself. Isaac had turned to face him. His facial features had turned sadistic; his eyes had glazed over – predatory, like a shark.
“Do it, Jack.”
Jack closed his eyes and brought the sole of his boot down onto the man’s face.
Jack opened his eyes. He looked around, confused. He found himself standing in the centre of a strange living room. A large Christmas tree stood in the far corner, beautifully decorated with multi-coloured tinsel and bows. Gifts were spread out all over the floor below where it towered. Jack repressed the sudden urge to burst out laughing when he noticed that he was dressed in an ill-fitting Santa costume.
A voice spoke from behind him. “Congratulations, Jack. You passed the first test.”
Jack span around and spotted Isaac sat in an armchair in the opposite corner of the room. He was dressed in a green velvet costume with red lapels, complete with green and red striped tights and an elf hat. Speckles of claret decorated the front of his outfit.
Jack smiled. “The fuck did you come dressed as?”
“Just keeping in tune with the Christmas theme. Are you ready for your next test?”
Jack eyed the man, suspiciously. “What the hell is going on here, man. What was all that stuff back in the bar?”
“Hell? That’s quite an apt statement. Don’t worry. My offer still stands, but remember, you could have all the power you desire.”
“So, what’s next?”
“This is a simple one. You see all those gifts under the tree? I want you to destroy them.”
“Destroy them? But they’re kids’ Christmas presents.”
Isaac sighed. “They are a bunch of worthless gifts given to snivelling children who probably don’t deserve them. They won’t miss what they never had.”
“But…”
“Don’t forget what is as stake here.”
Jack hesitated for a moment, considering his options. Was this a dream? He understood that Isaac held some strange kind of power. “Okay, how do you want me to destroy them?”
“What can I say? Those Christmas tree lights don’t look safe to me.”
Jack looked over at the Christmas tree – the threadbare electrical cord wrapped around the branches showed exposed wires.
“What if anyone’s in the house?”
“Don’t worry. Nobody is home.”
“Are you sure?”
“Trust me.”
Jack pondered on the stranger’s statement for a moment.
“Remember, Jack, whatever you desire.”
Tentatively, Jack reached over and flicked the switch to the Christmas lights. The Christmas tree instantaneously erupted into flames, Jack threw himself backwards from the blaze.
“Holy fuck, we need to get out of here.”
He turned around, but Isaac no longer appeared to be in the room. Scrambling to his feet, he darted for the exit. Throwing the front door wide open, he ran outside. The freezing cold wind bit at his face, and the fresh snow crunched beneath his boots. As Jack waded through the deep snow on the front lawn he spotted a sign partly obscured by snow. He approached slowly, brushing back the white flakes to reveal the sign. Jack screamed.
Heritage Gold Orphanage.
Jack heard a sound that sent a chill down his spine – the screaming of young children. Spinning around he looked up at the burning building, where acrid, black smoke filled the night air. The whole building looked like a macabre scene from a horror movie. Flames danced up the gables of the building like sweeping, burning talons. The faces of young children peered out through the upstairs windows, screaming in fright. Small, balled up hands thumped against the panes of glass in a hopeless attempt to escape.
Jack took a step towards the building when he spotted Isaac in his peripheral vision. He ran towards him. “Isaac, what the fuck? You said there was nobody in the building.”
Isaac turned to face him, an unsettling look of satisfaction spread across his face. “I lied,” he replied, unemotionally.
“What the fuck?” Jack screamed. “They're innocent children.”
Isaac turned to face him, with an evil grimace. Despite the man having his back to the fire, Jack could see the flames dancing inside his pupils. He spoke with an inhuman, rasping voice, his arms extended out from his sides.
His voice echoed out throughout the cool night air. “Nobody is innocent, Jack. You of all people should know that.”
“But if I’d known that there were…”
“You did what you had to do. Life is always about choices. Remember what is at stake here.”
“I know but…”
“But nothing. It was your second test and you passed. I knew you were the man for this job.”
Jack looked over the man’s shoulder, and the building continued to burn. The air was now filled with thick black smoke; he could feel the heat from the burning structure on his face. For the first time in his life, Jack felt the stinging sensation of guilt and regret. He attempted to look up at the children in the windows but the smoke now obscured the building from view. The intensity of the smoke increased and began surrounding them, filling his lungs with heat. Jack began spluttering.
“Are you ready for your final test?” Isaac called through the smoky haze.
Jack continued to cough, and attempted to cover his mouth and nose. “Yes,” he barked.
The smoke around them suddenly dispersed, clearing the view. Jack gasped in fear at the sight. He looked up at the night sky; thick snowflakes fell all around him, surrounding him in a beautiful white shroud. Looking down he saw that he was teetering on a concrete ledge, no wider than two feet. He briefly looked down and attempted to steady himself from the dizzying sensation. Through the thick, falling snow he couldn’t see how far he was from the ground. He guessed that he was on the ledge of a very high building.
A calm voice next to him spoke. “So, are you ready for your final test?”
“Where am I?”
“That matters not. I’m assuming from your current predicament that you understand what you are to do?”
“I’m to jump?”
“Let’s just say it’s a leap of faith.”
“I’m scared.”
“What do you have to fear? Remember what is at stake – immortality, power, influence, wealth. You could have it all. You could be more powerful than you’ve ever imagined.”
> “But, what about my friends, my family?”
“Come on. We both know you have no friends, you were always too ruthless for them and your family can’t stand you. You haven’t spoken to them in years.”
Jack raised an eyebrow and looked down at the ledge beneath his feet.
“I can’t help you do this. It has to be your own choice.”
“What are you?”
“I’m an angel, Jack.”
The recent events played over in Jack’s mind – the humiliation of being fired from his job, his employers taking back his car, his influence. He thought back to when he had first met Isaac in the bar, the man’s seemingly preposterous claims. He thought about the two men he had killed in self-defence and the horrific images of the children being burned alive in the orphanage. He swallowed the lump in his throat, and his heart hammered inside his chest cavity, he closed his eyes and stepped forwards from the ledge.
Isaac smiled.
*****
Jack awoke, naked and cold in a filthy room, illuminated by a single burning torch hanging from the wall. He sat up, the putrid stench of rotting meat immediately assaulted his senses. He glanced around the room; numerous bodies littered the floor in varying stages of decay, accompanied with fresh bodily fluids and faeces. Two men and two women hung naked from the ceiling, shackled with chains at their wrists. Fresh blood and grime ran down their torsos and legs. Crude pentagrams had been carved into the flesh upon their chests.
Jack covered his mouth and nose to block out the foul smell. He looked around the room. The bodies lay moaning and writhing in pain, their flesh covered from head to foot in savage looking burns and deep lacerations, their bodies devoid of any hair. Jack looked around frantically, and caught the attention of one of the men that hung from the chains.
The man looked at him, somehow strong enough to hold his head high. “You decided to step off the building too, huh?”
“What … what do you mean?” asked Jack, wearily.
“Don’t worry, we’re all in the same boat.”
“Where am I?”
The man smiled, exposing broken and bleeding gums where teeth had been ripped from them. “Where do you think you are?”
