by Jay Bell
“Think people are kept down here, too? L ike the guy who freaked out. M aybe they brought him here.”
“Hope not,” Dante said. “I f this is where they put people on ice, then we’ve gone from bad to worse. Come on.”
They chose a random direction to walk in, hoping that if they followed a straight line they would eventually reach a wall. This proved difficult since they were forced to pick their way around animals of all shapes and sizes, although some of the taller species, such as giraffes, they were able to walk under.
“There aren’t any birds,” John said as they skirted an assortment of cougars.
“What about the huge group of penguins back there?”
“They don’t count. They can’t even fly.”
“They have wings.” Dante argued.
“No they don’t! Those are—” J ohn hesitated, and in the silence they heard the distinct sound of a dog barking.
J ohn looked at Dante, who shrugged. The barking came again, and they began to cautiously move toward it. The floor was made of the same soundless material as the corridors were, so their footsteps made no noise. They had been so busy watching where they were stepping that they hadn’t noticed the wall ahead until now. At least the chamber wasn’t infinite. Ducking and dodging between animals, they tried to keep hidden as they progressed. W hile using the massive bulk of a hippo as cover, the barking became frantic.
Peering over the hippo’s body, they saw a P rop dragging a dog along by a glowing blue rope tied around its neck. The dog, a black and white E nglish S hepherd, was resisting, hind legs skidding along the floor in a desperate attempt to brake.
Despite the Prop’s merciless yanking and pulling, the dog was putting up a fair fight, causing the P rop to tumble over. The dog dragged it a few feet, growling and whipping its head back and forth. B ut then the P rop recovered itself, placing the blue rope in the slit that passed for its mouth before changing shape. The P rop’s arms and legs split into halves, the body rising off the ground on eight limbs instead of two. Then it slowly began to swallow the rope, looking very much like a spider devouring its web. Fur bristling, the dog was powerless against this new strategy, losing ground until it was dragged within reach. Two of the P rop’s arms scooped the animal up as its head descended, fangs now protruding from its maw.
J ohn stood to help, but Dante dragged him down, fixing him with a scowl that threatened death—or whatever the equivalent was here—should J ohn act on this impulse. The dog yelped. B oth men looked in time to see the P rop’s mouth enclosed over the dog’s neck like a bizarre vampire. E lectricity flickered and se led around the S hepherd’s form until it was just as blue and motionless as the other animals in the room.
Skin tingling with fear, Dante and John ducked the rest of the way behind the hippo, not moving until the room went silent. E ven then they refused to move, wanting to be absolutely sure the coast was clear.
O nce they dared to come out of hiding, they found the dog added to the foremost line of paralyzed animals, between a raccoon and a zebra. J ohn knelt down beside it, reaching out to touch, but Dante caught his wrist. John pulled it away irritably.
“I think I know this dog,” John whispered, examining it but still not touching it.
“Family pet?” Dante asked with disinterest.
“No. I saw it my first day here. I saw it on the bridge.” Dante had walked away toward the wall and was now inspecting the large number of doors. There were at least ten, all spaced out equally.
“Did you know they could do that?” J ohn asked, rushing to catch up. “The P rops, I mean.”
Dante shook his head. “Never seen it before, but like I said, they did something similar to that one guy. There were a lot of P rops in the way. M aybe they were intentionally blocking the view. I doubt they’d want everyone to know that P urgatory is run by bunch of creepy vampire spiders.”
J ohn swallowed. At times in the last month he had come close to flipping out. Had he done so, the P rops would have made short work of him. He never would have seen it coming, either. They looked so ineffectual and useless. Now he knew the truth.
C ountless P rops were in P urgatory, intermingling among the souls and playing their silly games when really they were an invisible police force. S hould rebellion or riot break out, it wouldn’t last long, but J ohn still didn’t believe they were the masters of P urgatory. J acobi was right. The P rops were nothing more than mindless tools, but whose?
“W hich door?” Dante mu ered. “I wish I had seen which one the spider left through. That’s the last one I want to open.”
J ohn took advantage of his companion’s distraction and returned to the dog.
Unhindered, he reached out and touched it, expecting his special abilities to instantly break the spell. Nothing happened. He glanced back at Dante, who was systematically opening each door a crack and peeking at what was beyond.
“Come on,” John whispered. “Wake up.”
He tried shaking the dog, but its body was stiff. Next he wrapped his arms around it, hoping that more body contact would make a difference. The animal didn’t stir. J ohn closed his eyes and began breathing, hoping to encourage the dog to do the same. He didn’t believe in New Age mumbo jumbo. He’d had no room in his life for crystals, tarot cards, or spirit guides, but he did believe in visualization. Athletes who pictured successfully shooting hoops would perform much be er the next day. This was an idea J ohn could believe in. M ore than once he would imagine a meeting going well before having to face difficult clients. Maybe something like that could help here.
I n his mind, he pictured the blue light draining away from the dog, puddling on the ground and soaking into the floor. Nothing. The animal was still as stiff as stone in his arms. M aybe he needed to give as well as take away. J ohn had something in him that made him more resistant to P urgatory’s tricks. He pictured this as white light inside himself and, keeping his eyes closed, he breathed out and tried to send as much of that light to the dog as he could.
The furry body squirmed in J ohn’s arms. W hen he opened his eyes, the dog’s head was turned toward him, looking confused and somewhat groggy.
“Hey there!” John said. “Feeling better?”
The dog panted happily in response.
“W onderful,” Dante said from behind. “Plan on waking up the rest of the zoo while we’re here?”
“M aybe,” J ohn answered, although truth be told, the effort had taken a lot out of him. For the first time since dying, he felt tired. He started to yawn but was interrupted by a number of wet licks to his face. J ohn laughed as he fell backward, the dog relentless in its effort to make sure he was drenched.
“J acobi didn’t send us down here to open up a pet store,” Dante grumbled. “We need to find a way out of here.”
“Maybe Bolo can help us,” John said as he got to his feet.
“Bolo?” Dante was incredulous. “You named her?”
“Him,” John corrected after a cursory inspection.
“Well, you’ve had your fun. Put it back and let’s get out of here.” J ohn ignored him, addressing the dog instead. “B olo! Wanna go po y?” he said with an overdose of enthusiasm. “Huh? Wanna go potty? Let’s go!” I t worked. B olo took off toward the doors and began sniffing each entrance. S ix doors down he started barking, his tail waving so fast that J ohn worried it might fall off.
“Yeah, all right,” Dante conceded. “Having a dog could be good.” J ohn opened the door and B olo bolted through, ignoring J ohn’s calls for him to return.
“S eems like he knows where he’s going,” Dante said, surprising J ohn by taking off after the dog. J ohn raced after them both, gray corridors whizzing by to either side.
B olo took turns at random, leading them deeper into the labyrinth. J ohn was terrified that their carelessness would land them in an entire nest of P rops, but they couldn’t stop, not if they wanted to keep sight on their four-legged guide.
The halls gave way to a
large open space where fog oozed across the ground, obscuring it from view. The sound of machinery rumbled like thunder in the distance, even though nothing mechanical was visible. They raced across this open space, J ohn catching sight of more spidery P rops in the distance, slinking through the low fog, but by some miracle he and his friends went unseen. O n the other side of the room, a short hallway ended with a door, and here B olo waited for them, tail wagging and eyes eager.
J ohn hurried to open the door before the dog could bark. Daylight, or at least P urgatory’s poor equivalent, lay beyond. B ut that wasn’t all. The G olden G ate Bridge stretched out in front of them. B olo quickly disappeared in the obscuring fog, barking happily.
“Deserter,” Dante mu ered before breaking out into a smile. “This is it! The mu led us right to it!”
“Across the bridge and we’re free?” John asked, excitement overtaking him.
“B ridge? O h, yeah, I get it.” Dante scratched at his stubble. “E veryone sees something different, just like the rest of P urgatory. I ’ve heard people talk about the B erlin Wall, or a river, that sort of stuff. W hatever you see, it’s always a barrier and a border to be crossed.”
“What do you see then?”
“The Dublin Ferry. Come on.”
What about Jacobi? J ohn thought, but the question went unspoken. He thought of the creatures lurking in the room just behind them and knew they were lucky to have made it across without being seen. They would never find their way back through the maze of hallways, either. J ohn’s fear heavily outweighed the guilt he felt for abandoning J acobi, so he shoved thoughts of the old man away and turned his attention toward the unknown.
The fog swallowed them as they reached the bridge, blinding their vision. Dante had only been a few feet ahead, but already he was lost to sight. Their footsteps echoed eerily, reflecting back at them from all directions and giving the impression they were being chased. J ohn tried to ignore his rising trepidation, but he had lost all sense of direction and didn’t know if he was still following the others. B olo’s barks echoed all around him, but they no longer sounded joyous, and each was preceded by a gu ural growl.
Through the white cloud that dominated J ohn’s field of vision, a shadow rose up before him. At first J ohn thought he had finally caught up to Dante, but then the clouds broke, revealing the minimalistic face of a P rop just inches away from J ohn’s own. The scream stuck in his throat as J ohn stared at the protruding fangs dripping with blue poison. From around this gruesome visage, eight spidery limbs shot through the fog and wrapped around John.
Teeth bit into him, and now J ohn found his scream. He fought and struggled as the poison made him sluggish, almost escaping from the P rop’s grip, but the fangs stabbed out over and over again. I t hurt. E ach puncture was the burning cold of ice. J ohn’s screams faltered as even his throat muscles went numb. That his mind soon followed was a mercy.
Chapter Four
A face, pristine in beauty, serene. A sculpture made of light. No, not light. G lass. The hypnotic eyes were two perfectly fashioned orbs, glass grapes set delicately inside their sockets, impossible detail carved into each iris. W hat master craftsman could create such perfection?
The brow above the glass eyes furrowed, shocking J ohn out of his repose. He tried to open his mouth to speak, to ask any number of questions, but he could not. He was completely paralyzed, unable even to blink, his field of vision filled by the beautiful face looking down at him.
The glass head pulled back, bringing into view a neck and chest just as immaculate.
J ohn watched in fascination as the glass man put a thoughtful finger to his lips. The gray walls of P urgatory were visible through his transparent body, telling J ohn that his escape had been a failure. But had he been rescued? He saw no sign of the spiders.
“You should be unconscious,” the glass man said, each word perfectly formed, his voice ideal in pitch and volume, “and yet, here you are, seeing things that no soul in Purgatory has ever laid eyes upon.”
As pleasant as the voice was, it was laced with disapproval. J ohn hadn’t been rescued after all. He had been captured.
“C aptured?” the glass man said, pursing his lips. “Yes, I suppose you could say that.
You were, after all, behaving like an animal, scurrying after a dog like part of a depraved pack. A more formidable man might have been restrained, a dangerous opponent neutralized, but you? C aptured. Downed like a mindless beast. B ut who is your keeper? Who unleashed you and allowed you to run free?” J ohn silenced the name before it could reach his mind, focusing instead on the image of a solitary tree in a park.
“Amusing,” the glass man said. “Normally in these situations I am unable to read minds since my guests are always unconscious, but I do have other methods at my disposal. There is one in particular that I enjoy. I am quite eager to see how a conscious mind reacts to it. Shall we begin?”
The glass man came near, his graceful crystalline hands poised before him. The beautiful transparent face came close to J ohn’s own, as if proposing a kiss, before the delicate hands pressed against J ohn’s abdomen. After minimal resistance, the fingertips passed into his body.
C old! L ike the spider’s fangs but a thousand times worse. C old and hard. The fingers slid further inside J ohn until immersed up to the wrist. G lass hands moved through him, opening him up in impossible ways, exposing his insides to air and causing them to ache. Was this what rape felt like? This violation, helplessness, exposure?
The face in front of him grinned, diamond teeth framed by lips made of stars. S o beautiful, but the sensations coursing through J ohn’s body were of pure revulsion.
L ike a careless surgeon, the glass man’s hands scampered inside of him, but instead of organs and intestines, memories were being manipulated. Dozens of experiences were brought to the surface, all of them painful. The heartbreak of being left by his first love, the crushing pain that came with losing his grandmother, the humiliations he had suffered in junior high, each feeling as fresh as the moment it had happened, but now all were occurring simultaneously. The glass man had found J acobi’s name long ago, but still he played.
L ife’s brutality came next: his drunken father beating him, or the night he was jumped by three men and became the victim of random violence. He felt everything, the physical pain dim and distant compared to the anger, frustration, and powerlessness that had accompanied the experiences. J ohn longed to moan, but even that release was denied him.
Then it was over. The glass man’s lips curved in satisfaction before he spoke again.
“There is only one system, J ohn, one path to walk correctly. We try to teach you that in life, to break your insignificant spirit before you come here. You don’t realize how generous that is of us. P urgatory was your last chance to learn your place. You’re nothing but a rat ungrateful for his cage, when you should be thankful for the shelter given to you. You should have obeyed our love. Disappointments like you don’t even deserve to be broken, only discarded. The rest of eternity awaits you, John Grey.” The glass man snapped his fingers and everything went black.
* * * * *
A rainbow of balloons soared into the overcast sky, theoretically breaking through the clouds to the blue beyond. A crowd cheered, and J ohn noticed that he was being carried, hoisted heroically for all to see. His head lolled to one side. He could see Dante to his right, pale and limp, like a fish starved of water. The two P rops beneath Dante carried him above their heads like a giant entrée making its way toward the dining room. W ith a grunt of effort, J ohn rolled his head to the other side to find J acobi also being carried, his wide eyes full of panic.
“We’re graduating!” the old man said. “You have to do something!” O n the contrary, J ohn thought. Heaven, Hell, or whatever came next had to be be er than here. He never wanted to set foot in P urgatory again, or to think about the icy hands that had played with his insides as if they were a toy.
J ohn managed a groa
n as they began ascending a hill. Dante had pointed it out to him once. Here was where every good soul went to graduate, an inaccessible green slope covered in grass that led upward to an ancient stone archway glowing with golden light. B eyond lay the greatest of promises. Heaven, sponsored by M cDonald’s, they had joked. J ohn noticed with some disappointment that the grass appeared to be artificial.
They passed through the golden arch and the sound of the jubilant crowd ceased.
The plastic grass and the hill had disappeared too, replaced by choking fog that suggested they were on the edge of P urgatory again. W hy hadn’t they been allowed to escape? Their punishment for trying was to be exiled? This was nonsense, but J ohn didn’t care as long as he got away. The P rops set him on the ground, then transformed into their natural spider forms.
J acobi began yelling, begging J ohn to “do something, do something, please do something!” Dante was roused from his sleep and panicked, reaching out to J acobi before the spiders bit them both to silence their screams. J ohn was bi en as well and went still after the first bite, not wanting to earn extra venom by revealing his natural resistance. O ne of the spiders tensed its abdomen and shot a blue line of web somewhere above before gathering John like freshly caught prey and rising upward.
All around him, other souls were rising into the air, not just J acobi and Dante. Their expressions of terror or confusion, all frozen in place the moment they had been bi en, showed that they had expected something more from graduation. J ohn almost envied their unconsciousness, the tranquil oblivion that followed the brief moment of fear. Perhaps he should struggle, be bitten more until his mind went blank.
The gray sky slowly faded into blue, but instead of hope J ohn felt only puzzlement.
This blue wasn’t that of the sky, but the electric, stinging blue he had first seen with the dampeners. Their ascension stopped abruptly, and John was hoisted upward.
Above him was a ceiling that stretched as far as the eye could see, a dome glowing with blue energy that pulsed around the frozen, unmoving bodies that were its bricks.