The Dark Side of Heaven

by Gord Rollo

  Sensing no danger or ill will coming from the four remaining men ahead, Tyrone regained his feet and walked down to greet them, his left hand staying near his Ka-Bar just in case they weren’t as friendly as their jovial mood made them seem. It was in his training to always remain on guard.

  Dead or not, it never hurt to be careful.

  “Hi guys!” Tyrone said when the first of the men turned and became aware of his presence. He showed his open hands, palms up again, trying to be friendly and let them know he wasn’t here for trouble. If all went well, he could get some directions to Tartarus and be on his way again. Hopefully the city he’d been told he might find Tommy wasn’t too far from here. If it was, maybe these guys could at least let him know where he could hitch a ride or get some sort of transportation faster than he could move on his own.

  None of the men hurried to answer his greeting but all four of them certainly snapped to attention when they heard him shout. Eventually, the tall blonde man walked over to hay hi, his big hand outstretched to shake Tyrone’s hand.

  “Hey there, soldier,” the tall man said; a smile plastered on his face. “Nice to meet ya.” They shook hands and the leader of the group proceeded to introduce himself and his friends. “You can call me Jacko, and these do-nothing’s here are Ben, Murphy, and Jess.” The trio of black men nearby nervously gave a wave of their hand as they were mentioned. They were dressed in similar ragged clothing, jeans and t-shirts, in decent shape other than the one on the left who had a bit of a beer belly. All three of the men looking like they knew how to take care of themselves in a fight.

  “Any you are…?” Jacko prompted.

  “Tyrone, sir. Tyrone Banks. Nice to meet you guys too. I’m actually hoping you might be able to help me out.”

  “We can try. What’s up?”

  “Well, I’m trying to find my brother and the little man at the crossroads a few miles back told me you guys could point me in the direction of some place named Tartarus. Can you tell me the fastest way to get there?”

  Two of the men behind Jacko, Ben and Murphy maybe, burst out laughing at Tyrone’s question and the third had a hard time keeping a straight face, even after their leader shouted at them to shut the hell up. His scolding wasn’t all that harsh, though, the tall man slightly amused at the question too.

  “I say something funny?” Tyrone asked, annoyed; after everything he’d been through not in the least interested in being the butt of anyone’s joke and the look on his face showed it.

  “Easy there, friend. No one is laughing at you. It’s only because you said you were looking for Tartarus.”

  “What makes that so amusing? I am looking for Tartarus!”

  “Well, you’re in luck then, because you’re already here!”

  Tyrone was even more confused now, looking past the men at the ramshackle hut close to falling over behind them.

  The tall man named Jacko saw where the soldier was looking and hurried to explain. “No, no, not our shack. This is just the gateway to the city. It’s the pit. Tartarus is down in the pit. Here…I’ll show you.”

  Jacko made a move to shoo Tyrone toward the edge of the chasm without actually touching the battle-hardened Marine. Tyrone caught the tall man eying up his .45 a bit too long, clearly a look of desire in his gaze but he allowed himself to go along with the man to the rim of the stinking pit. He was aware that Jacko’s men had quietly taken up a position that cut Tyrone off from the dirt road behind them but he pushed his instincts to the side for the time being, still not feeling any real threat from anyone.

  He was more concerned with the awful stench emanating out of the hole in front of him, not fully convinced he could get much closer without being sick to his stomach. What the hell was that smell? Not helping the situation any, the closer Tyrone walked to the edge the warmer things started to get, a blast of heat pushing skyward along with the thick black smoke. How could there be a city down there? Sure the opening in the earth was large – probably too far across for him to throw a baseball over – but there was still no way it was a big enough of a hole to hide a city within. Maybe these men were having fun with him, playing a prank on the new kid in town. For their sake he hoped that wasn’t the case.

  Tyrone wasn’t in the mood to play any games today.

  “You see?” Jacko said, pointing down into the massive gap in the ground. “Careful you don’t get too close. The edge crumbles in every now and then. You wouldn’t be the first man to take an unexpected nosedive.”

  Skeptical and still fighting the urge to vomit, Tyrone inched closer to the rim of the pit and peeked over the edge to see if there was anything visible down below. To his surprise, he saw the rooftop of a massive cube shaped building and far below that, through a haze of shimmering heat a man-made bridge leading from the chasm wall over to the huge obsidian stone structure that seemed to be the only habitat in sight. Way below the immense stone foundations, a lake of boiling lava washed up against the slick, three hundred foot tall windowless walls. The building, or whatever it was, was incredible large, way bigger than the opening Tyrone and Jacko stood beside. Tyrone couldn’t be sure, but from this viewpoint it appeared that the stone walls of the black structure might go on for a considerable distance beneath their feet and off in other directions as well. Obviously, where they stood was only the small opening at the top of a much larger underground chamber, the city below them in the hollowed out cavern.

  “This horrible place is Tartarus City?” he asked.

  “Tartarus isn’t a city, my friend,” Jacko said, a wicked grin creeping over his gaunt face. “It’s a fortress; a dark hole in the ground where people await their final judgment. Not very pretty, is it?”

  Tyrone shook his head, no.

  “It’s not just the bleak look of the place, either; it’s the eerie feeling you get when you look down on it. Something about it just hums with raw power. You feel it?”

  Tyrone took another look down. The dark, nauseous smoke was coming from hundreds of crude stone chimneys sticking out of the otherwise flat top of the black building, the incredible heat obviously coming from the lava below. Tyrone could only see a portion of the underground fortress but he’d seen more than enough to know he’d never witnessed anything like this place before, or to be honest, felt anything like it either. Jacko was right. There was a tangible malice to this dark, desolate building, a physical and mental feeling of unease that swept off its walls in waves, creeping up out of the pit and into Tyrone’s mind, chilling his blood. There’s evil down there, he thought. Pure unbridled darkness. He couldn’t describe the feeling any better than that or understand why the fortress made him feel that way but the darkness in his soul wasn’t something he was imagining. It was real. Maybe there was more down there than just a huge fortress.

  “Is Hell down there too?” Tyrone asked.

  “Ah…you’re a smart one, you are. This place you’re standing isn’t called the Gateway for nothing, son. Below the fortress and the lake of fire, let’s just say things get considerably nastier. Pray that Tartarus is as far down as you ever need to go. A smart man might just turn around and go another way. Understand?”

  Tyrone did. In fact, running away was the best plan he could think of. He had never been a coward and wasn’t about to become one now, but he was seriously starting to wonder how he could find the courage to go down into this abyss. Not that he really had much of a choice. Not if he wanted to have any chance of finding Tommy. He shook his head to clear away the cobwebs. He needed to stop thinking so much and just act. Waiting around like this was only making things worse.

  “I understand perfectly, Jacko, but I’m going down there anyway. It’s the only option I have. I came to find my brother and that’s what I’m gonna do. Maybe I’ll see you guys later.”

  Tyrone made a move to head for the metal staircase he’d seen the man descend earlier, hoping it would take him all the way down to the bridge far below, but Jacko quickly made a move to step in front of him.
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  “I can’t let you do that, son.”

  “Why not?” Tyrone asked, his hands automatically clenching into fists, preparing for the trouble he now knew lay ahead.

  Jacko stumbled for an answer, tripping over his own tongue as he tried to come up with a reasonable excuse. “Ah…umm, well you see you’re not allowed to have weapons in Tartarus. Maybe if you leave then with me, I can call down and see if you--”

  “Forget it, man. You’re not taking my gun, and you’re certainly not having my knife. End of discussion. Now get the hell out of my way.”

  The tall man nodded to his men standing behind Tyrone. “Sorry you feel that way, soldier boy, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist. Murphy?”

  Tyrone half turned to see one of Jacko’s henchmen aiming a small crossbow at his chest. All three of the dark skinned men were slowly closing in on him, tightening the net and forcing the Marine to act now before it was too late.

  So be it, he though, and reached for his .45 auto.

  Tyrone was fast, but so was the tall leader of this lynch mob. Jacko was on him in the blink of an eye, also reaching for the gun and trying to wrestle it free from the Marines grasp. Out of the corner of his eye, Tyrone saw that the man with the mini crossbow preparing to fire his weapon so he spun Jacko around and fired off a quick shot that blasted a small hole in Murphy’s forehead and a much larger one out the back of his disintegrating skull. The crossbow dropped to the ground along with its dead owner, its metal bolt firing harmlessly into the ground near his feet.

  Tyrone kneed Jacko in the scrotum and hit him with an uppercut hard enough to nearly knock his head off. The tall man flew backwards but spun the .45 loose from Tyrone’s grip as he fell unconscious, the gun landing in the short grass about ten feet to the Marine’s left. One of the other henchmen, Tyrone couldn’t remember his name, made a dash for it but the well trained Marine was drawing his Ka-Bar survival knife and wasn’t about to let this fool get a hold of his gun. Tyrone ran at the man and kicked him in the face as he reached down for the .45. His head snapped back and he stood up in time for Tyrone’s Ka-Bar to slice a deep smile across his exposed neck. In hand-to-hand combat training, the badass Marine instructor had called that particular maneuver “slicing the apple” and Tyrone had studied the strike well, his adversary dead on his feet even though he didn’t know it yet. Twin geysers of red juice shot into the air, the spurts keeping time with the man’s rapidly beating heart until there was no blood left to lose. The man probably hadn’t even felt the razor sharp blade take a bite out of him. He dropped to the grass face first, a confused look on his face as if he was still wondering what had happened.

  Tyrone was already thinking of his next opponent, moving like a well-oiled machine towards the last minion standing but part of his mind was rejoicing at his kills so far. Not enjoying the blood and deaths so much as the fact he’d been able to actually kill these men at all. He’d been more than a little worried that dead men couldn’t be hurt and it was a great relief knowing that not only could they bleed and feel pain like regular men back on Earth but that they could also die. Maybe a man’s soul takes on his complete earthly form here, simply living on in an entirely different plane of existence. He didn’t understand how or why any of that were possible but at this moment he couldn’t have cared less. He just knew it was useful intel likely to come in handy around here.

  The last henchmen had picked up a chunk of a tree branch, stalking closer with the wood held high on his right shoulder like he was holding a baseball bat. The branch was about three feet in length so he definitely had the advantage of reach on Tyrone but that was only if the Marine let the brute get that close to him. Taking a major risk, Tyrone reared back and threw his ka-bar at the beefy belly of the man attacking. His stomach was the best and biggest target Tyrone had to aim at, and from this distance he was reasonably sure he wouldn’t miss.

  He didn’t.

  With an audible THUD, the knife slid home to its hilt an inch above the man’s belly button, making him drop his tree branch and stumble to his knees, blood beginning to leak out the edges of the wound and stain his dirty t-shirt red. Tyler knew the injury wasn’t necessarily fatal, so reacting quickly he stepped to the man’s side and launched a sweeping side kick into the back of the man’s head, forcing him forward and down onto the deadly blade. The hard ground jarred the knife sideways, the Ka-bar slicing its way through his stomach, intestines, and the bottom half of his spleen before exiting out his left side. Tyrone drove his fist into the man’s temple to put an end to his suffering and stop him from screaming.

  Standing up, Tyrone was surprised to see that the fight wasn’t over yet. Jacko had regained his senses and was crawling on his hands and knees making a move for the .45 that was still lying in the grass. The Marine had no time to stoop for his knife so he ran and dove on the tall man’s back, pummeling him to the ground. Jacko flipped over and hit the Marine with a hard elbow in the jaw that had Tyrone seeing stars. Together they wrestled for control of the gun, trading punches and jousting for position. Eventually Tyrone rolled back on top and was just about to bust his enemy in the mouth with his fist again when something hit him in the back of the head harder than he’d ever been hit before in his life. It felt like he’d been blindsided by a freight train, his body sprawling forward onto the ground, his eyes going cross-eyed as he tried to turn over to see what had hit him. As the darkness closed in around him, he caught a glimpse of a tiny red haired man smiling down at him brandishing a blood-stained tree branch.

  And then everything faded to black…

  ***

  Once Freddy was sure the Marine was out cold but still breathing, he dropped the branch he’d found near his friend, Jess, who’d died with the mysterious new arrival’s knife tearing up his insides and spilling his guts all over the grass. It had taken the little man longer than he’d hoped to make his way here from his post back at the crossroads but although some decent men had been killed, they were expendable pawns and he thanked his lucky stars he’d made it here in time to cold-cock the soldier before he’d taken out Jacko. It was highly unlikely the little man could have faced the tough Marine alone in a fair fight.

  “Get up, Jack-ass,” he shouted at the tall man moaning on the ground beside the Marine’s still body. “What the hell’s wrong with you? I told you to be careful, mate. He’s a trained fighter; you guys should have all jumped him the second he showed his face. Now look what’s happened.”

  “We tried, Freddy. Sorry. I thought we had things under control. He sure was a tough little bastard. You didn’t kill him, did ya?”

  “Of course not, fool. Shut your trap and tie him up before he comes around and kicks your ass again. And make sure he’s tied good and tight, hear?”

  “Sure. What do we do with Ben, Murphy and Jess?”

  “Toss them into the pit. Hopefully they’ll burn up in the lake.”

  “That’s cold, man. They were our friends, you know?”

  “You wanna just leave them here? You can wait around and be the first to give them a big hug when they get back up?”

  “Jeez Freddy…no way!”

  “Then throw them in the fuckin’ lava!”

  “Okay, okay, I hear ya. No worries. What about soldier boy? We taking him where I think we are?”

  Freddy sighed and gave a barely perceptible nod, clearly not enthused with what they were about to do either. “Let’s get the crazy bugger ready for the witch.”

  10

  For Tyrone, the next twenty-four hours flashed by in a blur of bright lights and total darkness, the concussed Marine drifting in and out of consciousness and not always sure if the terrible things he was seeing were real or part of some hideous nightmare. His unreliable memories were of being carried down a long and winding staircase, the heat and stench surrounding him unbearable. Tyrone thought he’d eventually been taken across a bridge and chained within a dark room but from there his recollections became more surreal, just flickers of ima
ges, sensations, and sounds: a stone chamber with a long line of men and women bound together, wailing in despair as they were led off into a dark passageway by three stern faced men brandishing whips… an old man with a long grey beard hung upside down from a swinging chandelier in the center of a room, a table full of finely dress people oblivious to his suffering, laughing and eating a feast below him… standing still in a lightless place, but feeling something large and reptilian slithering around his ankles… bullied across an open air courtyard and looking up to see a huge white marble statue of a hideous gargoyle with outstretched wings up on the fortress battlements; it’s softball-sized jaundiced eyes seemingly following his every move as he walked on by… eating a piece of damp moldy bread and vomiting it back onto the plate then seeing two other skeletal thin men fight for his leftover crust… stumbling over a dead body and landing on a blood-soaked straw floor surrounded by half a dozen other corpses, but just as he regained his feet, so too did several of the lifeless men around him…

  The fragments of these and other memories swirled in Tyrone’s mind but he had no way of differentiating between which were real and which were merely fantastical dreams conjured because of the heavy blow to his head. For an indeterminate length of time he’d been left in peace, allowed to rest his battered body in a quiet dark place but as his weary mind gratefully drifted down into a much needed long sleep a splash of ice cold water startled him awake. Tyrone reluctantly opened his eyes and was amazed to find himself lying on the polished floor of a brightly lit cavernous room lavishly adorned in colorful silk wall tapestries and hand crafted wooden furniture of the highest quality. Even the putrid stench and insufferable heat that seemed to permeate the rest of the area was absent from this room, the air in this elaborate chamber cool and refreshing, smelling wonderfully clean with the exotic fragrances of lilac flowers and honeysuckle vines.