Chapter 4
"If you are going through hell, keep going."
― Winston S. Churchill
It was another long jaunt of walking before they met another stranger coming toward them. William recognized him first. "President Nixon again! Boring!"
Nixon was muttering over and over, "There is no honorable way out. Not from Vietnam. Not from scandal. Not from Hell. And I deceived people."
John could not resist talking to this once famous, now infamous, politician. "Excuse me. I hate to bother you, Mr. President… Mr. Nixon… but…?"
"I am not a crook!" Nixon shouted.
John winced at the words. "I believe you. You’re a man who made some mistakes, but you saved thousands of lives by getting us out of Vietnam."
"They claim without honor!"
John could see the man was severely conflicted. If people believed Nixon had done anything well, then there was a counter argument of massive public opinion that he had failed. There was no argument that could make it better. His conscience would wrestle with this forever.
"You’re walking the same path I am. Doesn’t this path lead out?" John asked.
Nixon rolled his eyes. "I’ve been walking this path since 1994. You tell me." Nixon walked on, stuck in his irresolvable question about honor.
NO! This was torment. This was Hell. Was this the righteous end of people? Mary, who killed the husband who tried to kill her. William, a man abandoned who fought to survive and ended up losing his way. Cat, a woman used like an old rag, who took her revenge and saved her self-esteem. Victor, a gentle giant who only wanted to live in peace and struck out in fear. And himself – what had he done that was so terrible that he deserved to be here? Where was the sanity in this? Where was mercy? Were there no second chances for these people? Was this justice?
John looked down the endless path. He looked back at the people who now trusted and depended on him – saw hope in him. Was he to dash their hopes? Was he to wander this ignoble path endlessly like Nixon, forever questioning himself about every decision he had ever made, about things he could have and should have done, or not done? No peace? Would he be forever tormented by the crowd of eyes even now staring at him expectantly, full of hope and expectations, forever disappointed… by him?
He was Governor. Maybe he was in a coma, put there by a truck dumping rock. Maybe this was his conscience, his wakeup call. Maybe as Governor, he should be doing more for the people. All those eyes behind him represented expectations. If he could just wake up, he would try harder to take care of some of their expectations. He wasn’t a praying man, but he could be a man of his word when he wanted to be. He would try to do this. If he could just wake up.
He tried to wake up. He used every bit of will he had. He forced his eyes wide. He slapped himself in the face over and over. He held his breath until he was struggling for oxygen and had to wrest himself back. He ran until he was out of breath then collapsed on the ground.
He tried for what seemed like hours to break through. Was it a forced coma they were keeping him in? Did he have a concussion with brain swelling? But every time he opened his eyes, nothing had changed. This was not like a vivid dream or nightmare – those came to an end, or the next time you opened your eyes it was different. No. He was stuck here. Stuck in Hell!
John began throwing a tantrum and screaming at the top of his lungs. "I don’t belong here! I made a mistake! I was in Heaven!" he screamed over and over. The others just stood idly by and shook their heads knowingly.
A wind picked up and a vortex of grey ash swirled. A figure began to appear in the whirlwind, in colorful clothes. The figure was short, had a goofy stove pipe hat that looked like it came from a leprechaun. For some odd reason, he wore a topcoat that looked like it was made by patching together different colors of rags: Light brown, red, and red and black checked, with silver elbow patches, and silver lapel strips. And light brown leggings.
John was mesmerized by the strange sight, but then he realized that the others were also surprised, and they cowered before the… apparition? The wind died down and the figure began to speak very quickly and with high energy.
"Woooohooooooooo!" The ashes cleared to reveal a big smile. "What’s all the racket?!" He waved away the remaining swirling ash and dust, and coughed. "Hate this miserable place." He looked at John expectantly. "Cough it up, man, what’s your problem?"
Vagabones
"I was supposed to be in Heaven. I hesitated, and I ended up here. It’s all a big mistake!"
The figure gave him a suspicious look. "Maybe, but I doubt it. Where is that psychopomp who is supposed to guide you?!" He looked around, scanning the horizon expectantly.
"A psycho… psycho-what? Who are you?" John asked impatiently.
"Psychopomp. Haven’t you heard of Charon’s Ferryboat?" He paused. No response from John. "The River Styx that departed souls cross?"
"Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, that Greek mythology stuff. Wasn’t my best subject in college. Will this Charon guy get me out of this dream?"
Vagabones flew into the air and kicked John in the chin.
"Ow! Oh, God, why did you do that?"
"Hurt, didn't it? You're not dreaming. Get a grip on reality. You were too stupid to live and got dumped on by a truck full of gravel."
John was now genuinely frightened. Hope was slipping away. "Who are you?"
The figure slumped. "Oh, not that again! It takes fifty years to tell all about myself. Do you really want to know?"
John replied as if on cue from the press, "Sound bite version, please."
Vagabones recited quickly in a monotone, "I’m Vagabones, one of God’s early children. We populated the Earth - magical people - slightly slandered reputation aside – I didn’t do those things, I swear! But the trouble with magic is that magic is trouble, so they banned it on Earth, and that only left the rest of the universe to me. Now just who are you to be making all of this noise?" he demanded.
"I'm not one of "His" favorite children. BUT I SHOULDN’T BE HERE!"
Vagabones gave him a defiant look, with an appraisal that said everything. "That’s what they all say. Put a man in prison and suddenly he’s an innocent saint surpassed only by his mother, the town whore, thief, and murderess."
"No, no, I was in Heaven talking to my Mother… about politicians… and suddenly…. I’m here! Now, how do I get back?" On reflection John decided his defensive explanation sounded like a thief caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He shrugged innocently.
"Politician! They all bring themselves here. Overloaded with guilt, wandering, conflicted, confused and in turmoil, in search of a perfect decision or as penance for their bad decisions and greed. Hopeless - sounds like you’re stuck here."
Argh! There must be a way out. He was a lawyer and politician, skillful at debate, defense and pleading. There had to be a way. "You… you just came here. Can you get back?"
"Of course. I go wherever I want," Vagabones said cheerfully. The others began to come closer with interest.
"What about me?" John asked hopefully, or begging.
"You can go wherever you want, too… well, wherever your conscience allows. See, that’s the thing – you stumbled out of Heaven for a reason, didn’t you." Vagabones stated the accusation, like a prosecutor.
John looked glumly at the ashes at his feet, full of disappointment in himself. "I suppose I did."
"You might try helping yourself by helping others. It isn’t written anywhere, but I’ve heard good things about it. For example, say a person tries to help other wandering souls here end their turmoil. Could work." Vagabones offered this without showing any commitment of any kind, and the whirlwind began to swirl ashes again. He was leaving.
"I’ll try anything to get out of here," John hurriedly offered. How could things get any worse?
Vagabones smiled. Maybe the smile was tricky – John couldn’t be sure. He was suspicious. The whirlwind abated. "You’ll try anything? Lucky y
ou found me! I provide "anything" opportunities! Let me show you a… place." William, Mary, Cat, and Victor crowded near.
Vagabones opened an invisible curtain to reveal a town, greenish grey cast, but an actual town. "I present to you, the somewhat OK, usually adequate, Asphedolus! Never promise too much, then they can’t complain."
From afar, Asphedolus looked like a town that might be found anywhere in the Western world. But there was no sign of activity. "Ohhhhhhhh!" William, Mary, Cat, and Victor each exclaimed.
John felt relief just looking at the place. "Can I go in?"
Vagabones gave him a quizzical look. "I don’t know...can you?"
Liars Truth Page 4
