The Book of Death

by AnonYMous

  ‘I’ll fucking kill him!’ the Santa growled.

  By the time Josh had finished wiping the piss out of his eyes the Santa was halfway down the stairs in pursuit of Sanchez.

  Twenty-Eight

  JD had lost track of how long he’d been on the road. His mind had been filled with numerous different scenarios of how the journey might end. And what had become of Beth. He had no way of knowing if she was alive or dead. All he did know was that he, JD, was not the man to carry out any kind of rescue mission, or if necessary a revenge mission. That was a job for the Bourbon Kid, the man he used to be. Others might look at him and see the mass serial killer, but deep down inside he knew that he was nothing of the sort. He was now a man with a conscience and more importantly a soul. That soul was all he would have to bargain with in the Devil’s Graveyard.

  The drive had flown by, much like the scenery, until finally he found himself on a familiar stretch of road. He’d been down this particular highway before, almost a decade earlier. The highway still looked the same and the desert plains surrounding it were still barren and desolate. The sky overhead was clear blue, a stark contrast to darkened cloudy skies above Santa Mondega. As he sped down the middle of the highway all he could hear was the roar of the engine on his dust covered black V8 Interceptor.

  When he passed a burned out old police car on the side of the road he knew he was close. It reminded him of a high-speed chase he’d been involved in with the cops on his last visit to the Devil’s Graveyard. He’d rammed several of their cars off the road and fired off plenty of rounds at them, usually hitting his mark whether it be a tyre or a cop’s face.

  A few miles further down the road he zipped past the decrepit and abandoned gas station with the imaginative title Joe’s Gas and Diner. As it disappeared from sight in his rear view mirror he slowed the car down. There was a crossroads up ahead.

  The Devil’s Crossroads.

  He eased off on the accelerator and pulled over at the side of the road just before the junction and turned the engine off. There was no one in sight. Not a soul. But this was definitely the place to be. He had to cut a deal here. The kind that Robert Johnson had cut with the Devil back in 1931.

  He opened the car door and stepped out onto the dusty highway. The silence outside in the Devil’s Graveyard was eerie. Not the usual quiet one found anywhere else. There was a silent breeze blowing, he could feel it on his face. But the only thing in the desert making any kind of sound was him. His footsteps crunching on the gravel stones beneath his black ankle boots offered the only evidence that he wasn’t in a dream.

  The crossroads looked just as he’d remembered it. The signpost that was supposed to show where all the turnings led was missing, just as it had been all those years before.

  So where the hell was the man with the directions?

  He stood at the central point of the junction and looked around. If he remembered correctly, the now non-existent Hotel Pasadena had been a few miles down the road after a right turn. So where did the other turnings lead? He looked to his left. There was nothing to see but more desert wasteland and some high orange coloured mountains in the distance. It was the same in all four directions. It was while staring out into this abyss that he heard the voice he’d been waiting for.

  ‘I wondered when you’d be back,’ it said.

  It was Jacko. The blues man.

  His old acquaintance was walking towards him along the middle of the road, from the East, carrying a black guitar case.

  The young black singer was still wearing the black suit, fedora hat and aviator sunglasses that he’d been given by the Bourbon Kid for his performance as a Blues Brother in the Back from the Dead singing contest all those years before. He hadn’t aged a day since they had last met, still looking every bit like the fresh-faced young musician looking for his big break.

  ‘You owe me a pair of shades,’ JD reminded him.

  ‘Nice to see you too.’

  ‘You know why I’m here?’

  ‘Sure.’

  He was relieved to know that he wouldn’t have to explain himself to Jacko (who, he recalled, could be quite a tiresome and cryptic individual). The fact that Jacko was well aware of the reasons for his reappearance in the Devil’s Graveyard didn’t surprise him. He’d always suspected that their paths would cross again. It was a small matter that both men had been only too aware of when they had last met.

  ‘What happens now?’ JD asked him.

  ‘I can arrange a meeting.’

  ‘So do it.’

  Jacko shook his head slowly and smiled. ‘Do you seriously want to end up like me?’ he asked. ‘Wandering out here in the Graveyard for the rest of eternity?’

  JD shrugged. ‘The only downside I can see to it is that you’d be here.’

  ‘You don’t change, do you?’

  ‘As a matter of fact I do. If I hadn’t changed I wouldn’t be here.’

  ‘You were always gonna come back, you just didn’t know it back then.’

  ‘Just make the introduction.’

  Jacko set his guitar case down in the road. ‘Who do you want to see?’

  ‘Who d’ya think?’

  ‘It’s not for me to say.’

  ‘I think I’m looking for a man in red.’

  A voice spoke out behind him. ‘I’m right here. All you had to do was call me out.’

  JD reached into his jacket and pulled out a gun. He spun around and pointed it in the direction the voice had come from. Stood leaning against his black V8 Interceptor was a large black man in a red suit with a red bowler hat and a big grin across his face. His teeth created a glare as the sun reflected off them. His eyes were yellow like the sand in the desert.

  ‘How’s this work then?’ JD asked, keeping the gun trained on the man.

  The man in red held out his hand and waited for JD to take it and shake it. What other options did he have at this point?

  None.

  He slipped his gun back inside his leather jacket. He’d come all this way to see this man to make a deal. He was going to have to shake his hand at the very least. Looking the man in red deep in the eyes he reached out and took his hand. The two men shook hands. It was a firm handshake but one that JD was eager to end, so as soon as the other man softened his grip he pulled back.

  The man in red leaned back on the car and hoisted himself up onto the hood in a comfortable sitting position with the sun glaring over his right shoulder. ‘I’ve wanted to meet you for a long time,’ he said. ‘Last time you were here you didn’t stay long enough for us to get acquainted.’

  ‘I don’t have much time to chat this time either. Can you help me? Or what?’

  ‘Of course I can. But whatever I do for you will come at a price.’

  ‘If it’s my soul you’re after then it’s all yours. I got no need for it.’

  The man in red’s grin broadened. He was a master at negotiations, particularly when the odds were stacked in his favour. It was clear that the deal he offered would be shitty. He raised a quizzical eyebrow and spoke. ‘JD, it may surprise you to know this, but I don’t want your soul. You have something of far greater value to me than that.’

  This wasn’t part of the script. JD had expected him to accept the offer of his soul, but even so, he hadn’t come all this way to walk away without accepting the terms on offer, no matter how unreasonable they might be.

  ‘Just name it,’ he said.

  The man in red shook his head. ‘Tell me what you want from me first. Then I’ll tell you the price.’

  ‘All I want is to get back to being the man I was.’

  ‘The man you were last week?’

  ‘Yeah. I wanna go back to being a murdering sonofabitch. You gonna make it happen? Or you gonna sit there like a smug cunt talking cryptic bullshit?’

  The man in red laughed a fake yet hearty laugh. ‘Hahaha! I want you to be that evil sonofabitch too. You were far more interesting back then. These days, if you don’t mind my saying, you’
re a bit dull. Something of a nonentity, by all accounts.’

  ‘Having a soul and a conscience will do that to a man. That shit, it ain’t for me.’

  ‘Glad to hear it.’

  ‘So can you make it happen?’

  The man in red sat back with both his hands on the hood of the car. He crossed one leg over the other. Then he took off his red hat and placed it on his lap. Underneath the hat he had a thick head of curly black hair.

  ‘Of course I can make it happen,’ he said. ‘You see, you and I share a common interest.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘Hell dodgers.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Hell dodgers.’

  ‘I heard what you said. What’s your point?’

  ‘It’s the vampires. I can’t stomach those hell dodging weasels. The werewolves too and most of all, that fucking mummy! You know, that Rameses Gaius, he was stuck in Purgatory for centuries until you lifted that curse on him. I really thought he was gonna be mine one day. And I gotta tell ya, I’m still aching to have him at my table.’

  ‘Good for you.’

  ‘But Jessica, she’s the one.’ The man in red became very animated as he spoke of Jessica. He was clearly passionate about her in some way. ‘She’s eluded me for as long as I can remember. And boy oh boy, there have been times when you so nearly delivered her to me. Honestly, how she’s evaded me for so long really is nothing short of a miracle.’

  JD was surprised by the man’s revelation, but pleased to hear it none the less. ‘So you’ll help me kill her?’ he asked.

  ‘I’ll give you back what you had, and I’ll even up the odds for you,’ the man replied. ‘But I can’t help you kill her. That’s all down to fate.’

  ‘Fate won’t kill her. I will.’

  The man in red shook his head. ‘If you were gonna kill her, you’d have done it already.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘Just think about that when you come face to face with her.’

  ‘Enough with the cryptic bullshit. What do you want from me in return?’

  From behind him JD heard Jacko speak up. ‘It’ll be something you won’t like,’ he warned.

  The man in red slipped his bowler hat back on and slid off the hood of the car. He walked towards JD. ‘On the contrary,’ he said, ‘it’ll be something you’ll love.’

  ‘So what is it?’

  The man in red placed a warm hand on JD’s shoulder. ‘All in good time,’ he said. ‘But, first of all, before I give you what you want, I’d like a little something from you. A deposit if you will. Non refundable, of course.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘Your wheels.’

  JD looked at him suspiciously. ‘My car? If I give you my car, how the hell am I gonna get back to Santa Mondega?’

  ‘Oh my boy, I’ll get you there quicker than any car!’

  ‘Fine.’ JD reached into his pocket and pulled out his car keys. He tossed them to the man in red. ‘I just gotta grab a few things out of the trunk though.’

  The man in red took the keys and carried on grinning. ‘You don’t need anything from the car. Everything you need, you’ll find down that road,’ he said pointing up at a signpost by the crossroads. The missing signpost with its four white wooden panels pointing in different directions was back where it belonged at the roadside. It now had a destination painted in black lettering on the panel pointing West. It read one word, PURGATORY.

  JD turned back to the man in red. ‘What the fuck is in Purgatory?’ he asked.

  ‘A test of sorts,’ said the man in red with his usual smug grin. ‘While I go and draft up a contract for you to sign, you go pass the test.’

  JD looked back down the deserted highway. ‘Where’s the test?’ he asked.

  He heard no reply. Instead he heard the sound of a car door opening. He turned around and was dismayed to see that the man in red was already in the driver’s seat of the black V8 Interceptor. The engine roared into life seconds later. The man in red winked at him and revved the engine a few times before inducing a loud screeching wheelspin, which blew up sand and dust in all directions. JD watched on as the car sped off down the road towards the area where the Hotel Pasadena once stood.

  He turned back to see Jacko behind him. The blues man had taken his guitar out of its case. He now had the sleek black blues guitar hanging around his shoulders, ready to play. He strummed one note on it and began to sing.

  ‘Down to the crossroads…’

  JD reached inside his jacket and pulled out his gun again. He pointed it at Jacko’s face. ‘Shut. The. Fuck. Up,’ he snarled.

  Jacko stopped playing and pointed up at the sign marked PURGATORY. ‘Keep walking ’til you find yourself ready to start over.’

  Twenty-Nine

  With The Book of Death tucked securely underneath his left armpit Sanchez trudged through the snow on his way back to his squad car, which he had parked just around the corner. He’d parked in a disabled bay even though there were spaces nearer the library. There were far too many locals with disabled permits that they didn’t deserve, so now that he was a police officer and could park where he liked, he’d gone straight for the disabled zone. In hindsight it was a decision he was beginning to regret because the air was biting cold. He couldn’t recall Santa Mondega ever being so cold before. It was still fucking dark everywhere too. The only consolation was that with the streetlights on and the snow settled on the ground, the place did look quite festive for once. Not that Sanchez was a fan of Christmas. It just gave more people an excuse to beg for money or badger him in the street to donate to the homeless who apparently suffer worse than usual in the holiday season. Sanchez couldn’t see quite how, because they seemed to get free stuff all year round and at Christmas they just got more. It still rankled with him that the tramps could get free soup at the local homeless shelter, yet he was only allowed to smell it from afar.

  This morning’s soup was chicken flavour, judging by the inviting aroma coming from the polystyrene cup that a tramp sitting at the corner of the street was sipping from. He was an old guy in a tattered green raincoat and a pair of torn grey pants. He had no shoes either, just thick grey socks with holes where his toes poked through them. Sanchez pretended not to see him in the hopes that he could make it past without being harassed for any money. As he walked past him though, the tramp looked up.

  ‘Spare some change officer?’ he asked. ‘For a cup of coffee.’

  ‘Sorry, haven’t got any.’

  The tramp reached out with one hand and grabbed hold of a handful of cloth on Sanchez’s pants. He tugged at them, causing Sanchez to almost lose his footing. He had a pretty tight grip for an old guy too. Sanchez tried to shake him off in the same manner that he would have shaken off a randy dog trying to hump his leg, but this old fucker wasn’t going to let go without a struggle.

  ‘Listen stinky,’ Sanchez snapped. ‘If you don’t let go of my leg, I’ll arrest you and have you charged with vagrancy!’

  The tramp ignored the threat. ‘I just need enough for a cup of coffee. I’m freezing to death out here. You wouldn’t want an old man to freeze to death, would you?’

  Sanchez sighed. He reached into one of the front pockets on his pants to see if he had any change. He had plenty, but also in that particular pocket he had a Zippo lighter and the page he had ripped from The Book of Death. That page needed to be destroyed at some point, so Sanchez had an idea.

  ‘I’ve got something that will warm you up,’ he said.

  The tramp’s grey sullen eyes suddenly lit up and he let go of Sanchez’s pants, looking up at him like an excited puppy waiting for a treat. Sanchez grabbed his Zippo and pulled it out from his pocket. He held it up in front of the tramp’s unwashed but excited looking face and flipped it open. A sizeable flame lit up in the gloomy air. The tramp still looked eager, hoping maybe that he was about to receive the lighter, which was worth a few bucks. Alas, Sanchez pulled out the page he had ripped from The Book
of Death. He uncrumpled it as best he could, while still trying to keep the book tucked tightly under his arm. The tramp frowned, no doubt wondering what he was doing. Once the page was as flat as he could get it, Sanchez held it up and dipped the bottom of it into the flame on his lighter. The page lit up immediately and the flame began racing upwards.

  ‘Here,’ said Sanchez, holding the burning paper out to the tramp. ‘This will keep you warm.’

  The tramp pulled his outstretched hand away and balked at the offer.

  ‘It’s all I have,’ said Sanchez placing the burning page down on the ground at the tramp’s feet. The tramp scowled but then held his bony white hands out over the flickering flame in the hopes of getting some warmth from it.

  ‘Tight ass,’ he muttered.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Sanchez, pleased to hear the words tight ass instead of fat ass for once. He closed the lighter, slipped it back in his pocket and carried on his way, turning the corner and heading towards his car, safe in the knowledge that his good deed for the year was done.

  As he was strutting down the street, he was suddenly hit on the side of the face by something cold. It exploded into his hair and all over the side of his face, splashing water into his eyes. And it made his ear feel numb from the cold.

  Stopping to wipe his face dry, he realised that someone had thrown a snowball at him and caught him real good with it too. He looked over in the direction it had come from and saw on the other side of the road an old lady in a long dark blue coat with a walking stick. She looked familiar. In fact, as she flipped him the middle finger and shouted “Asshole!” at him, he recognised her as the old bag that had fallen in the street when he’d switched on the police siren in his squad car to impress Jessica. The stupid old witch obviously couldn’t take a joke. But right now Sanchez had neither the time nor the patience to deal with her, although he did plan on giving her the siren treatment again, if an opportunity presented itself.

  The impact of the blow from the snowball could have caused him to lose his footing, such was the precarious state of the ice and snow underfoot, so with that in mind he exercised more caution in the remainder of his walk to the car, taking high steps and pressing his boots down hard onto the ground. When he reached his squad car he set The Book of Death down on the roof next to the siren and fumbled in his pocket for his keys. As he pulled the keys out they snagged on his Zippo lighter and it flew out and fell into a thick pile of snow just below the kerb.