Purgatorium

by J. H. Carnathan

  “Are you sure you want to do this? What if he has no other option but to go inside?” she says, holding out the tail end of the wire to my face.

  I reach into my pants pocket and take out a lighter. “The inside of this demonic tree is unpredictable. I cannot take that chance. The evil in this tree needs to burn.”

  I flick the lighter and nothing happens. I continue flicking it and still no flame is produced. Stephanie turns to me madly laughing. “I hope you got a matchbook handy.”

  I turn to her, smiling at the idea she just gave me. “No, but I know where to find one.” I look up at the big business building at the end of the park, staring at my office room.

  “Woo! I’m driving!” She drops the igniter cable and heads back to the car. I get back in the passenger seat just in time to when she stomps the gas. The van pushes out like a slingshot and we are off.

  I turn my head to look at Stephanie. “Remember your role, right? Get him on the elevator at 12, precisely. Not a second shorter or longer. You got that? We only have one shot at this, literally.”

  She keeps her focus straight and says, “I got it. My only concern is, are you sure Uriel will take the bait?”

  “Did you bring the outfit?” I respond.

  “Yea, it’s in the back,” she replies, feeling uneasy about it.

  “Then yes, he will take the bait,” I say, smirking at her soon-to-be situation.

  She brakes hard and the van comes to a sudden halt by the building’s entrance. Stephanie jumps to the backseat and begins to undress. “No peeking!” she yells.

  I hand her a heavy closed container from underneath my seat. “Be careful with this, it’s all we have left,” I say to her.

  She takes it out of my hand and says, “I know, I know. Pour just a little, not a lot. I got it.”

  “I got it! Don’t drop it! I never once dropped anything in my life, just to let you know again!” She hands me a briefcase. “Here you go. Might be still frigid from staying in my freezer for a bit.”

  I open it to find the lion flintlock pistol stored inside. I look at the five self-made balls to the side of it that I formed out of forks and spoons. I toss out the window each of them except for one. I place it inside my pocket.

  Stephanie continues to get ready as she says, “I still don’t understand why you need it though. Didn’t you say it was…”

  I cut her off saying, “Everything has its purpose.”

  I turn my gaze and leave the van. “Remember, 12 on the dot!”

  I walk through the swinging doors, across the lobby, and into the elevator.

  I look at the mirrors surrounding me, which makes me notice my face is viewable. I bring down the mask from the top of my head, covering my face up once again. The elevator doors open and I step out into my office.

  10 Minutes

  Raphael swivels in my office chair, looking at the time.

  The clock reads 10:02.

  A loud noise is heard coming from across the park. Raphael stops and gazes out the window. I look out also to see the interstate has seen better days. I look closer and see a car flying off the railing and smashing itself right beside the coffee shop. Raphael then says, “I think that was your car.”

  When he turns back, I am standing there.

  “Well, hello there, Barachiel is it?” he says, then looking at my mask, continues, “Is this the new 21st century KKK mask that I have been hearing so much about? I am not gonna lie, the white face part of it, pretty racist. Good on you for doing it justice.” He laughs and puts out his cigarette.

  “I mean, it has to be something along those lines to pull a fast one over me like you just did.” He points at the hourglass in the reflection, showing me the sand turning into snow. “Don’t get me wrong, but wasn’t it your idea to plan on doing the race tomorrow? I mean, the trust between demons is getting a lot thinner.”

  “First off, let’s end the black jokes. You’re not black, stop acting like you’re black. And second, let’s face it, you knew it was coming. It was the only way to get everyone to play fair. If I had let this thing drag out till tomorrow, they would have ruined it like they have done so many times before. You should be feeling extra prideful right now. He just passed mile marker two, which means you are well on your way into first place if he finishes in 40:00.” I get out two cigars and hand Raphael one.

  “You better be glad I am feeling extra prideful today!” He laughs, taking the cigar from me. “I knew I liked you for a reason. Going out just the way you came in, with style.”

  “If you can’t trust Greed, who can you trust?” I reply. “That’s what I always say.”

  Raphael puts the cigar in his mouth. He picks up his matchbook, strikes a match, and lights the cigar. Smoke fills the room. “Remind me who’s dropped thus far?”

  “Gluttony choked up,” I say. “Sloth vanished.”

  “I think he is finally going to do it this time,” Raphael says. “We might actually end all of this tonight. Took him over a hundred tries. This was a smart idea you had, dressing up as angels, boosting his morale, and then gambling to see who gets his human carry-on bag. Genius. But what if he doesn’t make it? What if the reapers get to him and his memories get wiped all over again?”

  I take the matchbook from Raphael’s hand and strike the match. I light the cigar, puffing the smoke in and out of my mouth. “Well it’s not like they are going to pull the plug on him tomorrow or any time soon for that matter.”

  I laugh as Raphael joins in with me. “You are the Michael Jordan of lying, have I ever told you that?” he says, puffing smoke from his mouth. “I mean, the whole life support ending in a week nonsense was pure genius.”

  He takes another puff, calming himself down. “But that’s just it—you are the smartest one out of the whole bunch of us. You probably manipulated this whole day to your needs. I would concede, but don’t forget, brotha, I know you. I know you, I know you too well. I can smell your greed from a mile away. That’s why I never keep my back to you,” he laughs, sucking on the cigar hard. He blows out a huge amount of smoke towards my face.

  “So then I guess you knew this was coming,” I say, showing Raphael the pistol in my hand.

  “You may be the smart one, but I am the fastest,” says Raphael, smiling. “I would dodge that bullet and snap your neck before you can even pull that trigger. Though it won’t do any good since it can’t kill ya. Making a never ending cycle between the both of us that will once again go nowhere. So it looks to me we got another demon standoff with no way of solving it. How would you expect for us to settle this quandary?”

  I take out the rag and unroll it in front of Raphael. He looks down at it to see the tools to reload the pistol are attached to it. I take out the second flintlock pistol and lay it in front of Raphael.

  “How about a little game of one-eyed jack for old time’s sake?” Raphael picks up the lamb pistol. I take out two of my lead balls and hold them in my hand.

  “Nice set of balls you got there. Make ’em yourself?” he laughs.

  I roll one of them in front of Raphael. He stares at it, suddenly shocked, “Are those what I think they are?”

  “Yes, they are,” I say, being calm, collected, and cool with each of my words.

  “How in the hell did you find them?” he says, still astonished by the lead ball in his hand.

  “If you can’t trust a demon, why not trust an angel instead,” I say being coy.

  “He actually remembered where he hid them all those years ago? He just learned his name yesterday, how could he have...”

  I cut him off by saying, “I told you he wrote to himself, remember? He must have found the book that told him the many secrets he locked away from us.”

  “I still can’t believe he actually found them,” still looking at the lead ball.

  “I promised you I would. Which mak
es us even. You went along with being Raphael and I found you the only thing that can kill a demon.”

  “Well my brotha, when you came up with this silly plan, I must admit I had my doubts.” He stops to suck on his cigar.

  “Then what happened?” I reply, seeming curious.

  He brings his head up and blows out the smoke in the air. “My pride got the best of me,” he says with a Cheshire cat type of smile. He laughs as he sucks some more on his cigar.

  “Go ahead, have your fun,” Raphael says. “This won’t even be close, boy. Tell me when.” He puffs more heavily. “Tell me when,” Raphael says again. We hear the clock ticking on the wall, waiting patiently for the other to make their move.

  Simultaneously, Raphael and I begin loading our pistols.

  “There’s a problem with your hypothesis about ol’ Jack,” I say, taking the powder and pouring it in the muzzle.

  “Enlighten me,” he responds, cleaning the inside of the muzzle.

  “Jack may have pulled the trigger, but the general’s pride was what really got him killed.” Raphael looks down and notices he is far behind from me. Confused, he watches me progress rapidly across from him.

  “How do you like the cigar by the way?” I ask, coyly. I put the bullet in the muzzle of the gun. Then sticking the ramrod down inside of it, I watch Raphael take out his cigar from his mouth.

  Raphael ponders over it for a second until, without notice, he squeezes it with his hand. Water begins dripping out from under his fist. He says quietly to himself, “He laced the cigar with water.” He forces a small laugh and says to me, “You got me swallowing my pride over here, boy.”

  I take out the ramrod and full cock the hammer. “I’d rather you swallow this instead,” I reply. I aim at his mouth and pull the trigger. Nothing happens.

  “Misfire!” shouts Raphael, grinning. Raphael laughs, hurrying to take out his ramrod. “You want to know your fatal flaw? I found this out a long time ago and kept it a secret, knowing this moment would be in my future.” He cocks back the hammer. “You can never trust a lion over a lamb.” He shows me the lamb’s imprint on the side of the gun. “Which humbly makes me the abysmal victor.”

  While he sits there gloating, I quickly grab hold of Raphael’s tie, push his pistol hand to the side, and stick down my knife into his tie. I quickly run over to his side, kick his chair out from under him, and watch as the tie starts to strangle him like a hangman’s noose.

  Raphael can’t seem to breathe as the tie wrapped around him tightens, cutting off his circulation. I bend down to his level and pull him closer to me, making the tie stretch tighter. I grab Raphael’s pistol hand and push it back toward his own mouth. Raphael struggles but the water running down his system has made him too weak and slow.

  I say to him, “Your own pride led to your downfall, not me.” Raphael’s face turns red, looking confused.

  I push the pistol to Raphael’s lips and whisper, “Tick tock, Tick Tock, goes the clock.” I pull the trigger.

  The bullet shoots right through Raphael’s mouth, sending him backwards. His head still cocked back, Raphael wheezes and begins to transfigure into looking like me, freezing over as he does. I take off the mask. As Raphael breathes his last breath, a stunned look comes over his transfigured purple demonic face.

  I put my mask back on. I breathe a sigh of relief and take the lead ball out of the lion pistol, place it back in the rag with the other tools, and fold it up. I reach over and snatch the Ten of hearts card from Raphael’s pocket. I put both the card and the matchbook in my pockets. I take both flintlock pistols off the table. I look at the hourglass and can tell it’s close to noon.

  I reach into my pocket and take out the green marble bag and place one lead ball inside of the lion pistol. When finished, I head out.

  I walk through the hallway, trying to put another paper cartridge into the muzzle of the lamb pistol. I struggle with it, seeing that the paper is becoming loose. I spit, lubing it up. I roll it in my hand and drop it down the muzzle; it goes now smoothly in. I take out the rod and ram it all in. I place it behind my back, walking to the elevator doors.

  When I reach the two elevators in the hallway, I press the button for the second one to open. After a few seconds, the elevator doors open, revealing Stephanie in a virtuous silk dress. “I look like a hooker,” she says displeased.

  “You look lust worthy,” I tell her with a harmless grin. I glance at the carpet inside the elevator, noticing how wet it is. I look up to her, not having to say a word. She understands what she did wrong.

  “I accidentally dropped it, okay! It was heavy,” she says, throwing out the empty container into the hallway. “I know he doesn’t wear shoes. I will just have to come up with something.”

  “Did you at least pour enough in the other elevator?” I ask, in a panic at hearing the answer.

  “Yes, I only dropped it in mine,” she says, fixing her tight dress. “I can’t breathe.”

  I give her the lamb pistol. “Hide this in the vent and…”

  She cuts me off, “I know! We went over this a million times! I got this! 12 on the dot! I know! Will you go?!”

  She presses for the elevator to go down to the lobby. I quickly get out as the doors close behind me.

  I stand for a few seconds in the office hallway as the first elevator doors open in front of me, revealing Sealtiel. He stares at my mask around my face.

  “You know,” says Sealtiel, “if you didn’t like the face you chose, you could have mirrored another one. No need to hide it away like you are.”

  I remain silent, looking back at Sealtiel, who becomes unnerved. “Is it done?” he asks me more seriously.

  I nod, counting up in the back of my mind the time that I have left. 11:50…11:51…11:52

  “Are you just going to stand there or are you going to come in?” he asks me, growing suspicious. I continue counting, 11:55…11:56...11:57

  “I see you,” he says to me. “I see what you are trying to do.”

  I stay calm. 11:58…11:59

  “You didn’t do it, did you?” he says flustered.

  12:00 on the dot, I think to myself. I get in the elevator and press the button for the lobby. The elevator descends.

  “Gluttony, Sloth, and Pride are out. Did you get Lust to meet us in the lobby?” I say to Sealtiel.

  “That I did,” he replies. “When these doors open, Bang! Sending Lust back to hell,” he chuckles at the violence. “Those fools. Like we would leave it up to chance!” Sealtiel says. “Greed and Envy together, we can do no right. Raphael’s pride always seems to obscure his judgment anyway.”

  “‘Seemed’, you mean,” I respond.

  “Exactly!” Sealtiel says, looking at his watch.

  I smirk. “Nice watch.”

  “It’s a beautiful thing, isn’t it? Always had my eye on this watch. Maybe because it meant so much to him is the reason why. Or maybe I just wanted it for myself.”

  I look at the watch. “Or maybe, you wanted him to fail.”

  Sealtiel laughs at the thought. “Why would I want him to fail? How would that help me in any way, I ask you?”

  I look up to him and say, “Because you hate David’s life. You always hated his life. If you even manage to be the lucky winner today, you would find no enjoyment from it.”

  I lean in closer to him. “You partnered up with me with the intent of not going up at all, is what I am saying to you. Really, it could be any one of us that goes up, as long as it’s not David. You want him to be a lost soul. And by doing so, gives you the opportunity to travel to different self-made prisons. With soul survivors that have more of a predominant lifestyle choice for you to then hijack. Tell me if I am getting warm?”

  Sealtiel claps, “Bravo to you, good sir. You know me too well.”

  “I just know how an envious mind thinks,” I tell h
im.

  “Well, everyone gets what they want out of all this, don’t they? You take David’s bleak life and I find me a lesser bleak life in someone else. Win, Win!”

  Seconds go by in silence. Still looking straight ahead, I say, “So it will take 20 more weeks to reach 26 miles?”

  “What did you say?”

  “The marathon equation. The answer is 20 weeks. Rounding to about 3360 hours. A lot can be done in 3360 hours. Enough time spent to think. 20 weeks.”

  “You wanna prize or something?”

  “I heard you like telling math equations, though that one was a little too easy. Let’s try and make it a little more difficult this time around.”

  I press the button for the 30th floor.

  “What are you…?” Sealtiel says, as I drop a napkin onto the floor. Sealtiel watches as the napkin saturates with water. He looks down and lifts his foot up, hearing the suction of the wet floor. He hears a “click” and feels a gun barrel pressed against the back of his head. I turn his head to face the left side of the elevator.

  “Are you going to try and shoot me, brother?” asks Sealtiel.

  “Envy shoots at others and wounds itself. I’m not your brother,” I say.

  “What game are you playing here?” asks Sealtiel.

  “An easy game. It’s a math game. If you answer correctly, I won’t shoot you, and whatever you want from me, I will do. Shoot me for all I care. But answer wrongly, and I guarantee you, your envy will multiply as you see me standing over your dead, frozen corpse.”

  “And you are wanting me to trust the words coming out of your greedy mouth?”

  “It’s either that or I just shoot you. Which sounds better to you?” I force the gun down deeper.

  “Okay, it’s your funeral because after this, you’re dead. Looks like Michael just went up to coach!” says Sealtiel.

  “We are on the 55th floor,” I say. “Let’s say we ride the elevator down at 10 floors per minute. Let’s say our little racer is on the first floor of the building and rides the elevator up at eight floors per minute. They both got on the elevator at noon. At what time will they be on the same floor?”