Dead Jack and the Pandemonium Device

by James Aquilone

  He returned to normal, or the closest thing to normal he knew. “Do you know how you got here, Jack?”

  “I took a boat.”

  He gave me a little condescending laugh. “No, I mean to Pandemonium itself.”

  No one really knew, but there were theories. Most of them were completely nutso. One client of mine tried to convince me we had always been here and our memories of the Other World were just illusions. I didn’t subscribe to any of those theories. I said, “One day I was in the Other World and then I was here. That’s the long and short of it. I stopped questioning it once I realized I wasn’t going anywhere.”

  “Good little zombie Jack. Complacent. Obedient. Scared. Stupid.”

  “Maybe we’re all dead and this is the afterlife.”

  “Is that what you believe?”

  “I already died. So, wherever I go it’s the afterlife.” No laughs.

  “I’ll let you on to a little secret. It’s not the afterlife. Plain and simple, Pandemonium is a prison, Jack.”

  “That explains the bad food.” Not a chuckle. I was bombing. “So who imprisoned us? From the smirk on your face, I can tell you have an answer.”

  “I could never bluff this guy at poker.” The Duke laughed, a bit more intensely than was comfortable, and pointed at me. “Maybe you really are a smart zombie.”

  “I’m not smart, just too dumb to know any better.”

  “You really haven’t figured out who put us here and why? You fought in the war. From what I heard, you fought on both sides. Is that true, Jack?”

  Now I was pissed. “You clearly want to make your big reveal, Duke, so let’s get to it.”

  “Okay, Jack. It’s pretty obvious. The Normals sent us here.”

  “The Normals? You mean people without supernatural leanings?”

  “The true dead. The normal, average, unextraordinary humans of the Other World who know only fear and hatred. The war, if you remember, was coming to a head. The Nazis were gathering supernaturals to their side, and with an army of extraordinary beings the war would be over in a flash.” He snapped his fingers and the candlelight grew brighter.

  I knew about the Nazis and their plans for the supernaturals all too well. I learned it firsthand in Room 731.

  “But it wasn’t the Nazis who sent us here,” the Duke said. “It was your original side, the Allies. The scared, ignorant Americans and their lackeys.”

  I had never heard this. I took another hit of Devil Boy and let the formaldehyde coat my throat.

  “Wasn’t it your side, too?” I asked.

  “I was always on our side.” He swept out his arms to indicate all the swell folks sitting around the table. The good little toadies whooped it up and banged their fists on the table.

  “Lucky us,” I said.

  He let that one go and continued. “The Allied Forces enlisted a group of scientists to deal with the ‘supernatural problem,’ as they called it. Their original plan was much worse. They wanted to commit genocide on us. Wipe us out once and for all. But we don’t die so easily, do we, Jack?” I raised a glass of Devil Boy in salute. “No, they couldn’t kill us, not all of us. So, they decided to banish us to another dimension, which their scientists had discovered when they were working on the atom bomb. The failed Manhattan Project. But their weak science wasn’t enough to do the job. The hypocrites had to turn to a group of black magicians. They would be allowed to stay in the Other World if they could work a spell to send all the supernaturals away. It took some doing—a banishing spell like no other—but they accomplished it and—poof!—sent us all here to Pandemonium, an interdimensional realm that exists alongside Earth, sort of an inverted copy of the Other World.” The Duke stopped, out of breath and impressed with himself. He took another long draw of wine as he waited for my next, inevitable question.

  “And how do you know this, Duke?”

  “That’s a good question, Jack.” He flashed a crazy smile. “And that reminds me of another question. Jevex, have our guests arrived?”

  Something about the way he said that worried me. “You’re expecting someone?” I asked.

  “Three leprechauns. In fact, one is our old friend, Fine Flanagan. He’s a bounty hunter now, can you believe it?”

  “Sweet guy, that Flanagan.” And salty, I thought as panic set in. I downed my glass and poured another. My hand trembled so badly that most of it spilled onto the table.

  12. A Room Without a View

  I got lucky. The leps hadn’t shown before dinner ended. Had they, what would I have done? The best I could come up with was to swear I was a different zombie. “Dead Jack who? Never heard of the brain-licker.” That probably wouldn’t have worked, though. I really needed to start carrying a gun.

  I had tried to get the Duke to answer a few more questions, but he remained tight-lipped. He was only interested in wine and doing cheap magic tricks. At one point, he pulled a purple lizard out of my fedora. The demons ate it up. Figuratively and literally. Eventually, he excused himself from the table, saying he had more of that business to attend to. He offered me a room for the night and I accepted.

  Jevex brought me up a marble staircase, which led to a door-lined hallway. Moonlight poked through the holes in the ceiling. Jevex stopped at the third door on the left and opened it. He swept his clawed hand inside, indicating I should enter.

  As I passed the demonic doorman, I asked, “No turndown service?” He slammed the door closed. I didn’t hear a lock engage, but I also didn’t hear the demon stomp away. He was no doubt guarding the door.

  At least the room had an intact ceiling and solid walls. On second thought, that would make escape more difficult. The only furniture was a smashed desk and a filthy bed covered in ash and what I hoped was red wine. Dust and debris littered the floor. Flaking paint and graffiti covered the walls. In a shaky hand, someone had written “Fook Pandemonium” and “Lucifer Sucks Fairy Arse.” Opposite the bed was an alcove.

  When I sat on the bed, a tiny puff of ash mushroomed into the air and brimstone filled the room.

  What the hell was going on here? Why was Eddie going by the Duke of Pandemonium, and why were all these demons following him like some god? When I knew him, he was a hustler and addict who couldn’t hold a job. He was always trying to impress us with silly little magic tricks and his crazy ideas, but no one took him seriously. He was just another off-the-wall dust-head. Crazy Eddie had certainly moved up in the world.

  I reached into my pocket before I remembered I was out of hellfire sticks. Damn! And I had forgotten to bring a bottle of Devil Boy up with me. I was pretty sure the room service in this place was for crap so I didn’t try to ring up a hunchbacked bellhop.

  I wasn’t sure if the Duke was telling the truth about the Allies zapping us into this dimension, but I had to admit it made sense. The Nazis were definitely working with dark forces and, with their defeat seemingly imminent, they would have literally made a deal with the Devil to turn things around. Why hadn’t Eddie ever mentioned this story before, though? He and I went back to the early days of Pandemonium and, at the time, he was full of wild theories. Either he had just learned of this or had kept it to himself all those years. How long was the bastard planning whatever it was he was planning?

  And what did those nasty leps have to do with this? I kept thinking how every type of fairy was in that mass grave up on Corpse Hill, but not one leprechaun. Why was that? The Duke said Flanagan was in the bounty-hunting game now. That explained the overcoat and boots. But who was that winged baby that I freed in Irish Town? I had never seen anything like that little shit before. He must tie in with this. It certainly was part of the Duke’s modus operandi so far: kidnapped kitties, dead fairies, a stolen Jupiter Stone.

  I stood and began to pace. Where the hell could I get a pack of Lucky Dragons around here? And where the holy hell was Oswald? That little bugger better not be playing games with me. I thought for sure he’d have made an appearance by now. He was always showing up when you l
east expected it. How was I supposed to search the palace with Jevex tailing me? Maybe I could disguise myself and walk out backwards, making it appear that I was actually entering the room. I could throw a sheet over my head and pretend I was a ghost. I was grasping at straws.

  If the leps were due at any moment, I needed to move fast. If the bird-flipping baby had something to do with the Duke’s plans, the psycho wouldn’t be pleased with me freeing the tyke. The leps, on the other hand, didn’t need another reason to be displeased with me. As soon as they laid eyes on me, they were going to stomp me with their little pointy shoes.

  As I saw it, I didn’t have many options. I either had to slip past Jevex or fight him to the death.

  Bzzt-bzzt. Bzzt-bzzt. Bzzt-bzzt.

  A demonic fly zipped across my nose.

  “Hey, arsehole!” it said.

  A second infernal insect buzzed in my ear.

  “Think we forgot about you, corpse?”

  A third black bugger bit me on the neck.

  I swatted at them and they dispersed. They regrouped and hovered in V-formation just out of reach.

  “That was an ugly thing you did to Carl,” one of them said. I think it was the middle one. His bony horns pointed at my face. “Swatting him like a common housefly.”

  “The indignity!”

  “The injustice!”

  “The iniquity!”

  “He had it coming,” I said. “Just like the rest of you.”

  I pulled out my lighter, flicked it on, and jabbed it at them. The infernal insects flew off.

  “He’s a madman!” one of them shouted.

  “Murderer!” another yelled.

  “He’ll burn the lot of us, the sicko!”

  “Bite his eyes!”

  “Blind the fooker!”

  The demonic flies came at me from all directions. Bzzt-bzzt. Bzzt-bzzt. Bzzt-bzzt. I had a surprise for them. I pulled off my hat and swiped it at the three buggers. The blast of air sent them into the alcove. I ran after them with my lighter blazing.

  “I’m going to roast you!” I shouted. “Slowly!”

  “You heard that, Jasper?”

  “He’s a sadist, he is!”

  “How isn’t this guy locked up on Purgatory Island?”

  The dumb demons were trapped. I stood in the entry to the alcove. The three flies sat on the far wall.

  I turned up the flame.

  “He’s serious,” a fly piped.

  “Be brave, lads. He ain’t got us yet.”

  “First I’m going to cook you,” I said, “and then I’m going to eat you.”

  “A damn ghoul!”

  “Sweet Lucifer, why did we mess with this monster?”

  “We’re coming to meet you, Carl. Keep a seat warm for us in Hell.”

  I leapt at the demonic flies, my lighter leading the charge. I don’t know if I killed any of them, but I absolutely murdered the wall. My hand went right through it, the stone crumbling like it was made of dust and spit. With nothing to brace myself, my head collided with the wall. That’s all it needed to fall apart. The wall crumbled—and I kept going. I was hoping I had uncovered a hidden passageway, but all I found was a shaft that led straight down.

  The Broken Palace? The dump was falling apart.

  I must have dropped a hundred feet. My head thought it was a pinball banging off the bumpers, except here the bumpers were stone walls.

  I dropped into a space narrower than a preacher’s mind.

  Claustrophobia isn’t a problem for the undead. In fact, the tighter the space the more at home I feel. And the dark? Well, I was always more comfortable in the dark than the light. Probably that had to do with my handsome face. So, I wasn’t panicking. Yet.

  My feet weren’t touching the ground. I tried to shimmy, but I only managed a slight wiggle. I was wedged in pretty good. I tried sucking in my gut, but that didn’t help. The only thing I could move was my head, but only about an inch or two back and forth.

  Cold and damp wrapped around my bones. I was pretty sure I was underneath the palace. I sure dropped far enough.

  I couldn’t see anything. My lighter must have flown out of my hand when I took that tumble through the wall.

  If my head was hard enough to bash through the alcove, maybe I could do the same here.

  I head-butted the wall. Unfortunately, the stone below the palace was in much better shape. I did manage to blow the dust off the wall and into my eyes. I was going to have the headache to end all headaches, but I wasn’t too keen on waiting a few hundred years for the palace to fall down around me on its own.

  I pulled back my head until it touched the back wall and let it rip. The first few strikes did nothing, but the other three dozen or so did the trick. Dust and mortar filled the air and slowly the stone bricks moved. When I saw a fraction of light seep through, I re-doubled my efforts. I chipped a tooth.

  Once one brick fell, the others were no trouble. I demolished the wall and, with the grace of an ice-skating ogre, I slipped through it.

  13. Beneath the Palace of the Arseholes

  I stood in a cramped storage room. Wooden barrels lined the right wall. Most had been smashed open and emptied. Bare shelves hung to my left.

  I shivered in the underground cold.

  I found the door, which opened onto a hallway dimly lit by torches in niches. My footsteps echoed against the stone floor. The hall led to other halls and passageways of rough stone walls and low-arched ceilings. Soon I was lost.

  I searched for one of those maps that say “You Are Here!” I had no such luck. But then I came upon a steel door that seemed particularly important, mostly because there was a sign on it that read: STAY OUT!

  It was locked, as you would expect for a door with a STAY OUT sign, but there wasn’t a lock in Pandemonium I couldn’t pick.

  I went to remove my lock-picking tools from my breast pocket—actually, it’s a paper clip. Or I would have, if it was still there. Most likely my trusty paper clip now resided at the bottom of the Broken Sea.

  I kicked the door. It didn’t open.

  I tried the door handle again. No, it was definitely locked.

  An overturned tin pail sat in a corner. In my frustration, I kicked the stupid bucket, mostly for the joke of it. My foot got stuck in the wire handle and I fell. So much for jokes. As I bemoaned my fate, I had a brilliant idea. I grabbed the bucket and pulled off the handle. The wire was—I hoped—thin enough to fit inside the lock.

  I straightened the handle as best I could and jammed it inside the lock. Delicately, I worked it inside the mechanism until I heard that satisfying click.

  The door opened.

  Unlike the rest of the underground level, here the ceiling was high and the room as wide as a ShadowShade block. Maybe the place had once been a dungeon—shackles were bolted into the walls—but now it looked like a madman’s laboratory. Electronics and wires covered benches. Machines big and small were scattered around the room. Some even had blinking lights, so I knew they were high-tech. But the most interesting features were in the center, where four large glass containers stood in a semi-circle. As I got closer, I could see that each held something or someone.

  Immediately I was reminded of the glass jar that held Flanagan’s insolent baby. But these were much bigger, at least ten feet high.

  I crouched in the shadows.

  The vessels held human-looking creatures—human except for the folded-up wings at their backs. They were naked and tall and ill-looking. Sickly black and red spots covered their dull, gray skin. Their heads sat heavy on their shoulders. They seemed to be sleeping on their feet. I also noticed that there was nothing where their genitals should have been, just a smooth piece of skin.

  Seeing these poor creatures filled me with an incredible sense of sadness. I was overcome by emotion and—this is hard to admit—I was on the verge of tears. I was pretty sure my tear ducts wouldn’t produce any tears, but my body wanted them to erupt.

  Sticking to the shadows, I c
rept up to the closest vessel. I gently tapped on the glass, like an obnoxious tourist at an aquarium.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

  I jumped, but tried to look suave as I turned. I think I pulled it off.

  The Duke emerged from the opposite side of the room.

  “Jack, I should have warned you not to wander around the palace. There are things here you won’t understand.”

  “You got me there. This place is a real head-scratcher.”

  One of the creatures lifted its head and looked in my direction. His—her?—silver eyes seemed to be pleading with me. A lump formed in my throat. I had to turn away.

  “It’s a long story, my friend. Come with me and I’ll tell you all about it.”

  I looked back at the creature, but its head was slumped like the others.

  The Duke led me into a small side room, which resembled a typical ShadowShade office with a desk and chairs and bookcases. The books, however, weren’t typical. Enochian script covered most of the spines. The Duke opened a desk drawer and pulled out a bottle of Devil Boy, a bottle of whiskey, and two glasses. He poured me a glass of Devil Boy and the whiskey for himself. He sat. I didn’t.

  “Are they that business you needed to attend to?” I asked.

  “In a manner of speaking.”

  “What are they?”

  “Our ticket out of Pandemonium.”

  “That’s your plan? To escape and return to the Other World?”

  “What other plan is there? Pandemonium is a prison.”

  “You said that before.”

  “You believe it, don’t you?”

  “I don’t care.”

  “You’re a fool, Jack.”

  “Then enlighten me. How are those poor bastards going to get you out of Pandemonium? Fly you out of here?” He took a hit of whiskey and I did the same with the Devil Boy. It wasn’t as good as the stuff I had at dinner, but it wasn’t bad.

  “I wish it were that easy. You see, I’ve been looking for a way out of this hell the second I landed here. You asked me how I knew about the Pandemonium Project.”