"What's that?"
"The Princes of Hell didn't care if the soul they were torturing or having tortured was innocent or not. They could see plain as day, just as you and I are standing here, the soul was white and pure. But they didn't care as long as they had something to rip into.”
"What are you saying? One of the most corrupt places known to, well, man I guess, is corrupt on the inside?"
"It's exactly what he is saying.” Damien has now joined the conversation.
I'm not sure whether to be confused or appalled. I mean, come on, this is Hell. It's supposed to be evil and now we're all standing around astonished it is?
"I feel like I missed the punch line.” I hate it when I don't get the joke.
"It means either my father has lost control over his brothers and their respective acolytes or he knows and he just doesn't care. Either way, it's bad for business. Have you ever considered what will happen if Hell overflows?"
I stare between him and Dante, still waiting for the other shoe to hit the pavement.
"My dear, perhaps I can put it into perspective for you. Think of it like Yankee Stadium. Heaven has year-round tickets to some of the best seats in the house and access to some of the best nachos in the Universe I might add, but instead, the nosebleeds section is being crowded out. What happens when the seats get full up? Where are they going to go then?"
I'm shaking my head. Leave it to men to bring the conversation back around to sports. It must be an unwritten Universal truth somewhere, men will associate the big moments to competition somehow. But I get it. Life is a competition. The longer you live and survive, the more you win. So is the afterlife. Survival of the fittest. If the souls of the wicked consume the souls of the innocent in Hell, whether they are supposed to or not, then evil is going to start seeping out and getting a lead in the rat race to get to the empty spots in the big palace in the sky.
I look up to find the clouds are light and fluffy. The kind Fiona used to lie out on the lawn and watch. She never looked for animals like bunnies and puppies. She dreamed bigger. She found dragons and unicorns instead. If by the time she gets to punch her ticket, will her dreams and fantasies be destroyed by the filth that doesn't belong up there?
I catch Damien's eye and look away quickly. I imagine he feels the compulsion for both good and evil, and maybe it's his motivation in all of this. He recognizes the balance needing to be upheld.
"Maybe you're right. Maybe there are casualties, but it doesn't mean I have to give up on Lowell. If innocents have been overlooked, why not start with not doing it to Lowell?"
Dante shrugs. “Do you think there's a vending machine inside?"
I blink and it takes me a minute to realize what he is talking about. I've got his number now. Competition and food, easiest way to a man is his stomach and apparently a healthy dose of witnessing eternal torment for recreation. His next book is bound to be a bestseller. I can just imagine the drama.
"The plaza is closed, Dante. I'm not stopping again until we get to the Devil's Wall in Maine.”
"What's so special about the Devil's Wall?" James asks, although the nervous sweat breaking out on his upper lip tells me he's not as naïve as he is letting on.
"It's one of the most secluded portals to the Underworld. I'm banking on Satan not having used it much because it is a mountain peak overlooking Mattawamkeag Lake.”
"Never underestimate what my father is or isn't aware of, Trina," Damien warns.
I wave my hand at him. It's the best plan I've got and his good versus evil is starting to give me whiplash. He was easier to deal with when I believed he was just a constant pain in my ass.
"There's no vending machine? No food?"
I feel for Dante as I watch his face droop. I wonder if it's an angel thing to constantly need food. Wait a minute, I wonder if he's an angel at all or if Phil just went up to whatever variation of Heaven Dante was hanging out in and called the old man out on a mission. I'd get bored too after centuries of napping on puffy clouds, lyres, and especially all those cherubs flying around? Kudos to the mamas and the papas out there, but babies have never been my thing. It's no wonder he needed a vacation.
"Nope, just a whole lot of wilderness. You might get lucky and find some blueberries though. Except, we will be heading up the mountain so it's unlikely. Just a whole lot of foliage this time of year and maybe a moose. Probably a black bear or two.” I pat the prophet on the shoulder. “You are the food, Dante.”
13
"How many demons does it take to screw in a light bulb?" I snort. It looks like Tabby is back to her usual punchy self. It must have been getting her licks in on Zeke that did it. He's looking on, bitter and angry, and I would be too if I were him. Charles has a firm grip on him so he can't rabbit, and he's being forced to stand there and watch the pot boil.
"Do we really have to screw in all of these tiny yellow bulbs on the ticket booth?" Fae wipes sweat from her forehead and glares at the box with the hundreds of yellow light bulbs. The white stand sits in front of the massive entrance to the ride itself, and I gaze up at the plastic and metal fake demonic Satan. I get the strangest sense like I'm not looking in the eyes of molded metal, but into the portal itself and seeing Lucifer staring back at me. I shake myself, willing away the heebie-jeebies. If Satan really does know what we're all up to, I'm sure he would have sent an entourage in the wake of the fiasco with Uncle Asmo. I still can't help but feel like as fake and cheesy as the ride is, because it is sitting on a portal to Purgatory, it seems to bring it to life in ways a normal amusement park wouldn't find so amusing.
The ride itself is enclosed behind the doors of the massive Satan figure. We set it up so it looks out over the lake, which offers a breathtaking view this time of year. In the rest of the continental U.S., it is scorching hot. But here, so far north of civilization and the decent cup of coffee I desperately need, the foliage is starting to turn for the season. Bright yellows and golds kiss the horizon, and there is a hint of orange with a touch of burnt red. Peak season will be in a couple of weeks for the good people of Maine, the Canadian Comrades. Tabby pointed out she wasn't aware Mainers were part of the U.S. when we arrived.
"Well, how many states do you think there are?"
Fae has been pissy ever since we pulled onto the dirt road. It leads to the access tote road to climb the mountain. We'd parked the bikes and the rental truck, and although the mountain itself isn't very tall, a sign we pass reads it is only 459', and just over half a mile. Someone has babysat Zeke while the rest of us lugged boxes up. Marty and Fae have been putting their mechanic skills to use and begun setting things up, and Dick, Doug, Damien, and Charles have been using brute strength to muscle the heavier boxes up the hill. The rest of us have been working in pairs or flying solo to get the job done. Fae used her big brain to calculate what went where and try to organize the situation, but since when have demons ever played well enough together to stay organized? Dick and Doug got into a dogfight when Doug dropped his end of a particularly hefty box, and Dick tackled him, causing the box to start sliding down the hill after them where they were rolling in a massive mess of arms, legs, teeth, and cuss words. Damien sorted them out as James, Lowell, and I tried to stop the downward momentum of the box, but it was so heavy, only two Hellhounds would be able to stop it. They were too busy being put in time out by Damien.
The end result was the box smashing into a boulder as the three of us jumped out of the way and the weight plus force of gravity sent it catapulting to its doom. Fae spent the better part of an hour bringing up each individual piece to the top of the mountain while Dick and Doug took a breather as they crammed intestines back into their stomachs and let the healing power of evil retain their insides. I can see the perks of being a Hellhound now. They aren't so far off from a Hellcat with the ability to heal quickly is one of them. But the setback put Fae in a bad mood, or I should say, a worse mood as she's always in a state of irritability, and the rest of us griped and moaned they were slac
king on the job.
"Hey, remember who it was who loaded the damn thing on the truck in the first place!" Dick snapped as we all got off pot shots to his ankles on the way by. I couldn't look at the state of his clothes, which Damien pointedly not fixed for either one of them as he did for Tabby and me, or the ground around him. There was a quagmire of blood and bile and it stunk like acid on fried eggs and it made my stomach heave every time I climbed down the mountain and fetched another box. He and Doug weren't moving far as they rearranged their insides to heal and it’s just as well. The last thing we needed was for them to be tripping over them like a couple of kids with untied shoelaces. Better to give them the hour than continue having to hear the squelchy noises they were making.
Lowell and James took a breather from this one too. To be fair, the rest of us were able to stomach the scene because we'd seen similar back home downtown, but being the freshies to the group, they were dry heaving, which if Damien and I made them continue to pass by the scene much longer, there would have been more clean up on aisle 666 and my boots can't handle that kind of grime.
It resulted in Fae's carefully laid out time schedule in her head being thrown off by about an hour. For me, it was still pretty good timing, but she's always been the type to have a plan, stick to it and execute it to produce the expected results. There's no throwing the grey area wrench in her black and white universe, which makes her a pain in the ass to work with sometimes, but it's good she's along because looking at the nuts and bolts of the situation, I never would have known how to set this thing up.
After Dick and Doug get back on the job, Tora calls me over and I can see her patience is at an all-time low. I would have left Dante to babysit Zeke, but he still seems kind of irritated we didn't make another pit stop for the last five-hour leg of the journey. I imagine he's sore after riding so long, but then I wonder if dead people from Heaven can get sore? I shake my head, refocusing on the task at hand. Charles switched off with Tora who was on Zeke duty, and she was all too happy to be rid of him once the rest of the boxes were brought up. The rest of us were busy helping ratchet metal pieces together and supporting the load bearing walls at the direction of Marty and Fae. Since Zeke gave Tora the slip, and he'd clearly pegged her for the weakest link since he'd also tried it at the DMV, I can see the nerves etched on Tora's face. She's just waiting for him to try it again.
Which is why I told her, "Kick him in the jewels if he tries it again. And he will.”
Tora nodded and Zeke spewed a mouthful of nonsense, stuff I'm sure would make Damien's uncles cringe, but I ignored him and went back to helping lug the freight. She's done with him now though, as he's purposefully trying to get on her nerves by chucking pebbles at her. She's been dodging them, but as the little ones were just irksome, of course, he's taken to throwing larger stones. I think it would be futile to point out he'd been living in a glass house for so long and shouldn't throw stones, but his day of reckoning has already come and gone, and it's up to me to fix the snafu in the proverbial paperwork. I beckon Tabby over, as I don't think it will be a good idea to put Lowell on him. Lowell has been pointedly avoiding eye contact with Zeke since yesterday afternoon at the rest area and I don't put it past Zeke to outrun James or Dante if he wanted to.
"What's up, boss?" Tabby snaps some gum and I almost ask her for a piece to give to Dante to get back on his good side, but I gesture to Zeke.
"Tora needs a break.” Tabby stares at Zeke and I wonder what she thinks of him. He's not a bad looking guy, and Tabby is known to get a little pick-me-up sidepiece when she's feeling the vibe.
"Sure thing.” Tabby takes out her cell phone and holds it up. This far north of humanity though, she's lucky to get even a single bar. We can't take the chance of Lucifer tracking us though.
"No cell phones. Sorry, Tabby. We can't run the risk of being traced.”
She puts the phone back in her pocket and glances around. She stoops, picking up the last stone Zeke pelted at Tora, who is now making a hasty retreat for the manual labor, and she smiles sweetly at Zeke who promptly drops the stone he picked up a moment ago. It clacks against the bolder beneath his feet and he turns away.
It gives me the opportunity to ask, "Are you cool, Tabitha?"
She looks into my eyes and in the depths of hers, I see the visceral response to what she saw at the police kiosk. There are some scenes of reality that are etched worse into the minds than the person's worst nightmares.
"They just started ripping each other apart, Trina,” she whispers.
I shake my head. "I know. Asmo-"
"Don't say his name,” Damien's voice warns us from around the far corner of the amusement ride. He steps out from the shadow of the tall wall and shoves his hands in his pockets.
"Are you always lurking and eavesdropping on conversations you aren't part of?"
"Are you always going to meddle in the affairs of things you aren't supposed to be a part of? It seems to me if you hadn't, Tabitha never would have found herself in the position she was in the other night.”
I wince and turn back to her as she watches the two of us. She squares her shoulders and turns away, keeping an eye on Zeke. Over her shoulder, she responds to him.
"I made my bed a long time ago, Damien. I've never had any issue lying in it until two nights ago and I don't blame Trina for asking me to help her step up and save Lowell. We all have vices to overcome.”
I chuckle. I wasn't aware Tabby knew what the word vice meant. I'd assumed since she couldn't distinguish Maine from Canada, she probably didn't have the vocabulary to verbally spar with the big boys. Good for her. When I turn back to Damien, he's leaning against the wall staring at us. I ignore him for a moment and observe the ride itself. It has come together nicely. It's the original Dante's Inferno ride too. Not the remake in 2005 when it was converted to Dante's Dungeon. The park replaced all the internal stunts. Dante is keen to point this out too when we are toiling away to assemble it.
"I don't understand why you kids today seem to think it is considered creative to just remake something that was once a good thing. What's wrong with the old classics? Why mess with a good thing?"
"Then why did you write Purgatorio and Paradiso, old man?" Charles sets down one of the fake green and gray Satan wings next to a sheet of blood-red flame still needing to be attached to the outside façade of the ride.
"Purgatorio was a sequel and Paradiso part of the series. Not a remake. There is a difference.”
With all of us working together, it has taken a lot less time than I thought it would to assemble it. I was worried about it being so open and exposed like this since the Devil's Wall is at the top of the summit, but the mountain itself is just a massive barren rock, we might as well send up a white flag of, "here we are, come and get us!" So far, so good though.
The tree line, mostly pine, spruce, and beech trees, ends about halfway up the mountain. Sitting exposed like this, the pre-dawn breeze whips around us and I pull my jacket tighter around me. Moving up and down the mountain with Phil turning the bright and shiny on his aura up so we can all see, I'd worked up a sweat with everyone else, but now we are settling down, I can feel the cold cut through my leather. It was interesting to see the kid light up like the star on top of a Christmas tree when Leo pointed out none of us were going to be able to see very well, but Damien gave Phil a nod and the kid's happy place on the inside lit up like a lighthouse. It makes me think of something else though.
"Did no one think of nabbing a generator? How are we going to juice this thing?" I look at the remaining boxes, which are just bits and bobs needing to be attached, but nothing of the fuel injected gas run machinery kind.
"I've got it taken care of," Damien says as he pushes away from the wall.
I snort and begin to walk away from him, but he stops me with a hand on my arm.
"Why are you running from me? Have I not proven again and again through this endeavor of yours, I'm on your side?" His face is earnest, but a lifetime of being
stabbed in the back by people who should have been on my side makes me distrustful of just about everyone.
"You're the son of Satan. You can't possibly think I haven't considered this is all a ruse, Damien. Your reputation speaks for itself. You're like the ticket machine at the supermarket deli. Everyone takes a number and stands in line waiting for their carve up, only I'm not all about being filleted.”
"That's a fair assessment, I suppose, but to be fair to me, none of the others in the cage are worth a grain of salt compared to someone like you who will take on Hell in order to do the right thing. You saw what I am. You saw both sides; the good and the evil. Yet you still compartmentalize me into the dark zone.”
"No, you're wrong about that.” I turn back around. I figure we need to have this out before we reach the others who are helping screw in the tiny yellow light bulbs on the ticket booth, much to Dante's delight.
"Am I?" He stops with me.
"Yes, you are too much of the grey area for me to be able to trust the fog. I got lost in it the other day, remember? When your Dad sent his goons, the Drudes, in after me in my own dreams. When I look at you, all I see is a haze; impossible to get out of once you get mixed up in it.” I shove my hands in my pockets and kick a stone around, not looking at him.
There’s silence for a long moment before he asks, "What have you learned since you've been in Hell?"
It's an odd question and I look up before answering. I consider the question and then choose my answer carefully. “Appreciation.”
His eyebrows disappear on his forehead. “Huh? Not the answer I was expecting.”
Highway to Hell Page 17