CHAPTER SIX
SO, THIS WAS HELL.
H-e-double ell.
Hell.
Charlotte Armstrong never imagined ending up there. Not because she'd led an exemplary and God-fearing life and would, therefore, reap the benefits, but for the fact she was an Atheist. God didn't exist, neither should Hell.
Besides, God was for the weak and suffering. She was neither. She made her own luck, patterned her destiny, and took what she wanted from life.
She looked around her cell chiseled from rock. Hell was not what people said. From what she surmised, the area beyond the entryway was a dank and dark cavernous place, a configuration of shafts, corridors and cells. Where were the tar pits and the raging infernos? And where the hell was Satan?
Soon, the demons would come for her. They must know she arrived — she always made an entrance — and she'd be waiting for them. No way in hell was she staying.
There was much she had yet to do. Punishments to levy. Revenge to take. Retribution to invoke.
Spite would drive her to succeed.
She had choice words for the bus driver, too. Damn him for swerving around the Volvo. Left to her, she would have rammed the car. After all, the woman took away their right-of-passage. She probably escaped the mishap unharmed while others paid the price for her negligence.
If only Charlotte had been so lucky to escape the accident without incident.
Her clothes smelled of gasoline and smoke from the explosion. A bath would wash away the stench and grime covering her body, but she doubted Hell had bathing facilities.
She plunked herself on a boulder and looked around the darkened cavern, peripherally hearing the slash of whips and the sobs and screams of the tortured.
Those spineless damned were getting on her nerves.
"Suck it up and stop whining!"
Charlotte was growing bored. Death had not made her patient. In any circumstance, tolerance was not her forté but, holy hell, where was her welcoming committee?
She stood, stomped to the mouth of the chamber and touched the air, expecting the entrance to be electrified. When her finger didn’t sizzle or ignite, she poked her head around the corner. There were no guards and no one traveled the passageway. She was clear to move about as she pleased. Apparently, Satan didn’t consider her a threat. Ha! If he only knew.
The odors of burned rubber, perspiration and excrement attacked her nasal passages the instant she stepped into the shaft. Noxious odors didn't bother her. Satan would have to do better than that. She looked behind her and saw only darkness. A shingle above her cavern read, 'POSTAL'. She took offence and shoved her right middle finger in the air.
Charlotte took a few steps, only now noticing her canted gait. Her back must have been injured in the crash. Oh well. She'd deal with the lopsidedness when she escaped back to Earth.
Through the two-foot wide corridor she read the shingles hanging above each doorway —LIAR, RAPIST, ADULTERER, TRAITOR. The list went on.
Inside each chamber were sinners, each one sorrier than the last. She would never surrender, never become one of them. Never. Never. Never.
Despite her resolve, her slanted bearing annoyed her and would take more getting used to than she'd anticipated. Maybe she never would. In that case....she forced her side upward and with some creaks, pops and snaps her spine straightened. Back to her old self, she continued through the darkness in her normal mean-spirited manner.
She rounded a corner and smelled the fresh, crisp air of autumn. A doorway to the outside, she felt sure, was nearby. She smiled and moved through the darkened tunnel until she hit into something solid.
Damn.
She’d been certain she’d find an exit.
She wouldn’t give up. There had to be a way out of Hell, and she’d locate it. If there wasn’t, she’d make one. She had a lot more living to do.
Just then, the rock quivered beneath her feet. At her sides, the walls tottered.
What the hell —
Then she discovered the cause of hell shifting — a demon as grotesque and huge as any monster she could imagine — materialized from nowhere.
Having no prior knowledge of the workings of the underworld, she could only assume he entered through a portal. From where, though? She'd find out, but later. Right now, she should hide. She dashed into the nearest chamber. LEECH, the shingle said.
The demon passed without a glance on either side. She let out a sigh of relief. Stupid demon.
At her back, someone moaned. Leech, she suspected.
She turned and stared at the shivering cadaver huddled in a corner.
"What's your problem?" she asked, sneering. He should be in her shoes. She looked at her feet. Speaking of, where had her boots disappeared to? A week's pay, they'd cost her. Whoever took —
Leech groaned, catching her attention again.
"What?" she asked, exasperated.
He pointed a gnarled finger in his open mouth.
That he had no tongue didn't stop her from asking, "How long have you been here?"
They played charades, and it wasn't any fun, but she understood 1718, if she counted correctly. He missed two fingers on one hand and one on the other. Speaking of which, what the hell happened to her ring finger? Someone was going to pay for that too. Big time.
Leech jutted his pointed chin toward the door and cupped an ear with a hand.
When she understood what he mimed, she said the obvious, "Someone's coming?"
He danced a jig.
She jutted her chin. "Well, it wasn't that difficult, and I'm hardly stupid."
Leech's laugh fevered her damp scalp. The awareness felt strange. No one had ever instilled fear in her. She took another look at the withered old man. He didn't seem menacing whatsoever. Why then was she nervous? Perhaps her surroundings had something to do with the feeling.
She shrugged off the sensation and said over her shoulder, "Catch you later, amigo." In a huff, Charlotte stomped toward the entrance of the cavern.
Three steps from the opening, something solid slammed into her face. Her hands came up reflexively. There was nothing she could do. She wanted to stand and fight, but the blow to her head unbalanced her. She toppled backward. Unable to regain her footing, she surrendered to the inevitable and landed hard on the rock-packed ground. "Dammit," rushed from her lips the second before she sank into blessed oblivion.
Sleight of Hand Page 7