Hell's Vengeance

by Max Jager

  A chef in the corner of the barrack sat atop a wooden table with a cleaver in one hand and a centipede in the other gave. He slammed down. The head of the bug rolled. It fell. The demon slurped out the meat out from the creature and watched them. Jeronus could hear someone barfing in front of him. He had to step over the vomit as they went on.

  So they went silently on. Making sure not to even breath louder than they could. Berok tugged on Jeronus as they went inside a building that looked a bit like a mission church. It had the large rectangular shape of one, with walls made of adobe and straw which felt rough to the touch. The room, the building, was orange and its interiors, dark. The square windows were boarded up and they passed through several doors, torches flickered and shook at their sudden pass. They stopped at a room with littered tables, where the stains of congealed blood and surgical gear and saws were thrown around like furniture pieces. On the walls, torture devices. Sitting around the tables, demons. Or soldiers. Or elites. Whatever they preferred, the slaves could not argue. Some eating, some playing games with strips of paper and small marble sized shiny stones.

  One of the demons lost, it seemed. He shook his head and ripped a golden tooth out of his mouth. Jeronus turned. He gasped and put his hand over his mouth. A thread of blood followed from the demon's mouth.

  "You lost another one, Toadvine." One of them said in that circle of evil, it caused a stir of laughter and a pounding of fists against the table tops.

  Jeronus stared at them and thought amongst the clammer of noise, It's an exhibition. A zoo for them. And me, the monkey, to dance and to scream.

  "What are you looking at?" The Captain of the squad came to the bars of the cell. The bars were closely packed together and the captain's rotten hands could barely fit around the metal rods.

  "Nothing." Jeronus said. His eyes fell to the floor, away from the Captain.

  "You have that American spunk. Toadvine was an American. Got scalped by an Indian though. He's the one who taught me how to speak English and how to break Americans." The Captain said. "Where you from?"

  Jeronus stayed silent.

  "I asked you where you're from?" The Captain slammed the bars.

  "Horston, Colorado."

  "Colorado, huh? Never heard of it. Do they breed good warriors there?" He laughed. "Doesn't matter, I guess. You're no soldier, no warrior, no anything. Down here you're inventory, commerce. You're the piece of fine robe. You're the fur. You're the stallion. You're a slave. Something to be fought over and traded, nothing more."

  "Why? Why do any of this? Where is down here, where are we?" Jeronus walked away.

  "Well, I shouldn't say but you'll probably find out eventually. Might as well be now rather than later. I'm assuming you're a Christian man?"

  "No."

  "Doesn't matter. Many faiths have a word for where you're in. You may know it as Purgatory, or Hell. They might be the same for you, I suppose. Best to think of it as a prison." He pointed to the corners of the jail. "A bigger prison than this."

  "Is this all you do? Terrorize people?" Jeronus could hear the voices of people behind him, telling him, kindly, to shut up. To shush, to speak a kinder tone. He heard the whispers and ignored them.

  "Sure. Down here, with this infinite boredom and infinite existence, we do the only thing we know. We fight. We fuck. We kill."

  "We fight. We fuck. We kill." A voice repeated.

  "We fight. We fuck. We kill." The chanting began around the room. The men and women in the cell began to crowd each corner as they stepped away from the loud voices.

  "We fight. We fuck. We kill." They banged on the walls, banged on the tables.

  "We fight. We fuck. We kill." The captain screamed, he brought his fist up. They were a final glorious hooray amongst the demons and then it died. The excitement still filled the air, made them nervous, like a blanket of static had wrapped around the slaves.

  "We're the eastern army of Astrix. There are three more for each face of the compass." He said. "And we fight and war with each other endlessly."

  "That's insane. Fight for what?" Jeronus said.

  "For pleasure. For honor. For slaves, like you. What else is there? Dirt, sand, rock. What would you do with an infinite amount of time and no hope of escape?" The captain asked. His mouth came to the small spaces of the bars. It smelled sweet, sickly sweet, like a corpse. "Whatever life you had up there means nothing. Whatever ambitions, whatever pleasures. Get rid of them, instinct rules here. Instinct and strength. There is no society but Astrix's and this is New Troy."

  "New Troy. New Troy. New Troy." The animals began to chant again.

  "It is this way and no other way. And it doesn't matter if you don't like it, you'll get used to it. You'll have an eternities worth of time to get used to it."

  He left the bars and all heat seemed to come out of Jeronus and Berok who was clinging to his leg. There was silence for a moment before the crowd of twenty-odd folks broke into shrieks and wails.

  "You heard him. We're in Hell." A man said. Another fainted and the sound of his head hitting the wall made a low thump.

  "This is a dream." A woman kept slapping her face.

  It went like that for hours or what was perceived as hours before they came to accept it. And in accepting it, paced within the jail cell with heads lowered to find an empty space to take up post.

  "We should have never gone to church. We should have stayed at home." A husband blamed his wife.

  "And while we wait he sits above, smug in his throne." Someone blamed God.

  "What the fuck are we going to do?" Sam asked. Faces turned, their eyes set past Sam, past the demons, past the walls. as if they weren't even looking at anything, really.

  "What can I do?" Jeronus whispered. "Last time I did something, I killed a third of the people here."

  Sam bit his lips. He took off the first few buttons of his shirt and let the sweat break onto his chest.

  "I'm beginning to think it's better to die." Sam said.

  "Don't say that. Not in front of the kid."

  "Come on, you're smarter. You're the only one here with a bit of sense. Everyone else is a little delusional or too afraid to think. So lets reason this out." Sam wagged his finger. "Do you honestly believe we have a way out?

  "I think we'll have plenty of time to think of one. I'm sure we will."

  "Against soldiers? I don't know about this Hell stuff, but you and I both know these people are willing and able to annihilate us. Without any pity or trouble."

  "You think I don't know that? I saw what they're capable of. Don't remind me."

  "What I'm saying is, there's a good way out. A real way, out." Sam emphasized. He reached into his pocket. He came out with a small dagger no bigger than half a foot. "I pocketed it from one of these goons on our way inside, where the torches were low and dark."

  "Don't even think about it. You heard him, didn't you? We're in Hell. What do you think would happen to us if we died here?"

  "I don't know but anything seems better than this. Even oblivion if that's what it takes."

  "You're asking me to kill you. To assist you in suicide? I can't do that."

  "I'm asking you to think of the boy."

  They both looked at Berok. Jeronus felt his legs go weak, his stomach dropped. It felt like an anchor had stabbed through him.

  "Don't you ever suggest something that cruel ever again." Jeronus looked up. His voice was low and steady.

  "An eternity, pal. You think he'll be able to handle this? An eternity! Look around you, look all this shit, look at how insane they are. Violence, mutilation? That'd be merciful. I'm sure I don't have to describe what else these monsters could do. Beating and hurting would just be a start. It's fucked down here." Sam stuffed his knife back into his pants. He looked around and watched the guards faces with shifty eyes. "Wise up. This is a bad deal, you know it, I know it. And sometimes the best thing to do is to just check out. Let someone else carry the debt. You understand me?"

  Jer
onus felt his throat dry up as if the well or basin of his patience had finally disappeared, evaporated, shrunk.

  "This boys father depended on me when he needed me most and I left him. I saw his dying face and I left him. You're asking me to do the same thing again, to stare at the boys, to watch him die, to leave him."

  "It's the smartest-"

  "Stop." Jeronus walked forward, the rings under his eyes were gaunt underneath the shadow of the prison bars. "Don't ever make this suggestion or any suggestion ever again. The next time you get an idea, kill it. Or better yet, slit your fucking throat in the corner of the room and leave us alone. I'll figure something out without you."

  "You dumb motherfucker." Sam pushed him back. He spat on the floor in between them. "You're so dense you can't even see that there is no out. You're blinded by that pride. That guilt, whatever it is. And you're gonna make us all suffer for it. Ain't you? Those people up on that sandy hill got it lucky, I tell ya. We aren't going to get as lucky and you're going to make it worse. Well, fuck you, man. Fuck you."

  "Quiet over there." The demon said at the group. Everyone hushed, both Sam and Jeronus, who found themselves on opposite halves of the prison. Sam, who hissed and complained with shallow breath. Jeronus, who slunk into calm demure and stared obsessively at the cell door.

  Darr II

  Darr

  Darr could not pass or rather, would not, for the wide arches and marble pillars were too imposing. He stood in front of the decayed bowels of the city, the small stone huts, and temples that had crumbled and shambled. Long spiral minarets, Gothic cathedrals, broken down into shanties of rubbles where the insects hid from light. As if someone, someone desperate, had chased after the eras and had failed, fallen to time. No wind blew, but he swore he could hear moaning, like a groan from those decayed homes. Above, dripping. Leaks from the aqueducts that surrounded the city into a circle. The small transports were broken at spots and sprouted waterfalls onto the shattered stone and hay rooftops of the lower level of homes. He breathed in and took a step inside, going up steps until he stopped at another set of arches. These were red and there was a temple further away, a pantheon stood in front. A false god of marble, the head broken and decapitated. He stopped.

  His spine felt a chill and he turned his head high up. There were two giant pillars, impossibly high, he thought. Above the pillars, he saw legs dangling. He was being watched by something, he could not see them clearly though, only knew they were there by the shine their black scaled shoulder armor reflected. He narrowed his eyes to see the fine specimens. Their abdomens, exposed, rotten. The legs, skirted, and the feet, with worn brown sandals. They sat at the tops of the pillars with golden spears. As if they, miniature Zeus's, sat upon Mt. Olympus, waiting to strike the desecrater.

  Darr drew his guns out and rubbed the handles with his fingers. His heart stood still, his breath quiet. He sucked his lips in and started to flex his legs. One jump, a brief climb, he'd shoot them in the head, he imagined. And then -

  "Stop." A voice said further away. "You'll make a mess of things. Stop."

  It was a voice past the pillars, taking form at the top of the orange stairs, past small shoots of lavender and primroses growing by the sides of the path. Darr could see the red feet descending, he could see the golden sandals and the knee guards that glistened and the loose cape and toga that flew gently. This figure, this heroic figure, waved at the two above the pillars and they sat down, their javelins stabbed through the stone.

  "They're very protective." Astrix said. He came to stand still in front of Darr who still brandished both weapons and who still gripped them tightly. He could feel his fingers twitching at the touch of his trigger.

  "Who are you?" Darr asked.

  "Isn't it obvious? I'm the one who sent the messenger for you."

  Darr lifted a pistol high up to meet the king at the level sight. There was a click, the barrel stared at Astrix's pale forehead.

  "So you're the one that deserves a bullet, huh?"

  "For what exactly?"

  "For everyone you've killed." Darr could feel his blood rise to his head, it made the air seem hotter than it was.

  "What are you accusing me of? Defending my kingdom?"

  "Don't play dumb, it's not just them. It's about the people of Horston. I'm sure the memory is already lost on you, your highness. But I remember. Always will."

  Astrix extended both hands out, he flaunted his chest forward and Darr felt his barrel being pushed back.

  "Is this modern justice? Oh, how standards have fallen for what is considered impregnable truth." Astrix looked up, the two guards had re-pointed their bronze at Darr. He put his palm up, again, and assured them. "Did I kill anyone directly? Did I push the trigger? Did I sink the knife? Tell me."

  "No, but you're the reason people did. Demon."

  "Demon? I'm just a man. Like you."

  "Don't compare yourself to me."

  "And don't confuse your contempt with dishonesty. I am like you and I deserve a say, considering how gracious I've been. I can have you killed, after all."

  "Wouldn't be a bad way to die, taking you out with me."

  "If you even could, Darr. If you even could." Astrix walked forward again. Darr stepped back "But now isn't a good time to fight, not here. Let me state what I offer, I'm sure it'd interest you. I have what you've chased after this whole time."

  "And what's that?"

  "People. Of course, your people."

  Darr's gun shook. He looked at the person in front of him. He was smaller, thinner. This man. Darr thought. This man who is pretending to be human, trying to reason like one, after all he's done. Darr shook his gun. He bit his lower lip. He tightened his face.

  "Let's talk over dinner." Astrix said. "Food and wine softens the soul."

  And then he sighed. He set it aside, let his anger escape him from his shallow breaths. He looked at that smug face that etched itself on Astrix and walked, both, shoulder to shoulder, into the ruined city.

  "Your guns." Astrix said. Only three rooms into the villa and already, Darr was upset. It was a narrow hall where small half-moon beams of light showed through the half-circles of the window frames. There were purple drapes, vases, dead flowers laying on dry fonts. It looked like a ritual room.

  "I'm not giving you my guns."

  "You expect me to break bread with an armed man?"

  Darr looked around, two more armored men were approaching him. He shrugged them for a bit, walked a bit. But he was stopped again, a golden tray lay in front of him. He placed both guns on top of it and watched it get carted off. The wheel spokes creaked.

  He couldn't help but feel worried. He couldn't help that strange curiosity either, those wandering eyes, as he went room to room through the sprawling villa and the pictures and statues that seemed to sprawl too, endlessly too. They were on the walls or in the latticed light of rotunda glass ceilings, colorful and giant, pictures of a mother and of a father and of a city in flames.

  "Do you like them?" Astrix said. "I made them all, I stopped some odd five hundred years ago though. Got boring."

  And perhaps he was honest because as the tour went on, the pictures seemed to get worse and hinted at something dwindling. Sanity, perhaps? That's what it was, the flag markings of the King's sanity, like a long mountain climb straight to the cuckoo's nest. And Darr realized very quickly that this was no exhibit, it was the mausoleum of hope and desire.

  The pictures became more terribly violent, dressed with vibrant red lash strokes. There were pictures drawn of horse-dragged tortured soldiers. Dogs mauling people to pieces. Statues of lonely suicides with the expressions of pain permanent in stone. And then, a simplicity. Detailed photorealism became abstractions, geometry. He stopped at last in front of the dinner door. To the right, one final portrait: A single, simple head rolling on the floor. Fire, brimstone, Hell, everywhere around them. It made him freeze for a moment. He turned to look at Astrix who stared back. Had he even blinked this whole time? D
arr thought. His eyes were yellow. Sis red hands carefully moved over to the handle of the door. He nodded for Darr and they both went in.

  A slave (he suspected she was a slave at least, by the way she wore her collar and the way in which her hair and her eyebrows had been shaved bald) came up to them and offered a small bowl of water to wash their hands in. Astrix slapped it away, the bronze bowl rolled and crashed on a table leg to which she scrambled for it.

  "Go get my other guest." Astrix said.