Through the In Between, Hell Awaits

by Robert Essig

  “Listen, listen,” said one of the alky painters. “This is that story I was telling you about. Those musicians that were found in that cabin.”

  The painters, the bartender and Austin all watched as the news reported on the discovery of the band that called themselves Death Fraud found mutilated in a cabin in the Sierra Mountains.

  After two screwdrivers, Austin left the bar for the Sierras.

  25

  The skies looked as if they could rain magma from strange clouds that resembled porous lava rock. The land was somewhat barren yet there were naked trees that appeared to be dead, as well as large rocks that sprouted out of the sandy ground like giant potatoes pushing their way to the coral-like sky.

  It was fascinating for Acronos, particularly since his mind was still half-Rich. He didn’t know if that would leave or whether he would always think like a human, but it made the walk through the In Between that much more interesting. It resembled the Earth in many ways, yet there were formations that were completely alien, almost as if someone had created abstract, new wave sculptures from rock.

  And then he came to one of the many crossroads across the vast plains and mountains of the In Between, all of them leading straight to Hell.

  At this crossroad, there was a rusted pole standing nearly fifteen feet tall with four poles protruding at the top where four bodies hung like coats on a coat rack. They looked more human than Acronos as far as the shapes of their bodies, however they had rather large welts from head to toe, their flesh a green so dark they were almost black. They smelt of sulfur, which was very unpleasant and made Acronos gag, but he wanted a better look, so he approached them cautiously as if they would attack. He shouldn’t have retained his human fear, but something about this spectacle startled him. It was the Rich side of his brain. He hoped dearly that the Rich-thinking would dissipate.

  His heavy footsteps crushed the thick granulated sand with a crunching sound like stepping through a bed of rock salt. He tried to be inconspicuous (for what reason, he didn’t know) when one of the things hanging from the rusted poles lifted its cocked head and looked at Acronos with hollow sockets where eyes had long ago been sucked out by thits or some lost soul seeking the entrance to Hell.

  Acronos stopped in his tracks. In that moment, standing there like some massive deformity of the human kind, twice the size of the gangrenous being with the cavernous eyes, and twice as ugly, he felt like a little kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

  You don’t need to feel this way!

  “Get me off of here,” said the being. Its voice was like sandpaper.

  On further inspection Acronos could see that the beings were hanging by large hooks that were inserted into the back of their heads where skull meets spine. It was an injury that should have killed the being, yet he pleaded for Acronos to free him.

  “Please. Get. Me. Off. Of. Here.”

  It’s a trap. Don’t be fooled.

  “No,” said Acronos.

  The other three beings became animated, grunting and groaning. This sent fresh spears of fear into Acronos via his goddamn bitch-ass Rich-thought.

  You can’t think like that.

  “Help us,” said one of the other beings.

  And then, right there in a desert of rocky sand and queer looking trees, Acronos decided the Rich mentality had to go. He was above that kind of useless human emotion. Perhaps the lingering Rich-thought was getting in the way of his transferring from the In Between to Earth. There was no reason fear now that he was beyond human.

  Lifting his calloused hand (it looked like calcium deposits or perhaps miniature coral), Acronos lunged his thick, gnarled fingers into the being’s face, grabbing the hollow eyes like a bowling ball and retracting his clenched fist ripping the head off, in turn dropping the body to the ground.

  Holding the rotten head, Acronos squeezed his hand turning the face into mush. The bizarre thing about all this was that the being continued to scream even as his head was turned into mush. The body scrambled to straighten itself, but its disorientation resulted in it falling over again and again like a sloppy drunk after last call. The head screamed, which in turn threw the other three into hysterics that grew into a fit of yelling.

  Acronos used his monstrous foot and crushed the disembodied head, stomping on it repeatedly until it’s screaming ceased. The body continued its futile attempt to stand without success.

  “All of you, shut the fuck up!” roared Acronos, but the three beings railed on, their yelling melting into something that sounded like an alarm, some kind of call for help, and then Acronos saw what they were calling forth.

  The In Between was an unmerciful land of many. Spirits, demons (such as the three hanging on the rusty poles), mutants (such as Acronos), sentinels, abominations, rejections, and things unspoken of and unheard of; things that slip through the void from Earth and the kingdoms of Hell that grow like fungus under the radar of detection from what could serve as natural predators. Such parasitic creatures grew inward and often became very dangerous, such as the ones that heard the wailing of the hanged demons like a dinner bell.

  Acronos was in a state of power, his Rich-thought banished, perhaps forever. Four things came his way, two of them floating through the air in a way that defied gravity, and two others that kept pace with their floating brethren though they galloped along the ground kicking up tufts of sand. The airborne creatures were the size of large cats and looked like an animal turned inside out with thick, corrugated purple veins stemming from their heads like antlers that plunged into their abdomens like absurd IV tubes. The ground stalkers were larger, about the size of a small donkey, galloping on four metallic legs with large cloven hooves. The legs met with bodies like a human’s torso with a pregnant gut (Acronos could see that one such gut was torn open and something like a tiny fly-eyed fetus with purple lips and flashy teeth sat like a baby kangaroo in the mother’s pouch). The heads on these galloping freaks had an elongated neck with a face that was part horse and part pig, but rotten, deformed and ominous.

  Acronos didn’t know how to deal with the vile visitors, but he had no fear and no reservations. The flying creatures got to him first. He batted one away with a closed fist, but the second one latched onto him with a series of needle-thin appendages, at least a dozen of them, and they sunk into his flesh like hypodermics. Fluid from the vein-ropes that protruded from its brain pumped through the spindly legs and into Acronos’ body, instantly numbing him.

  Poisoned, his body went limp, however as much as his Rich-though tried to impede upon his power with waves of fear and terror, he managed, in a dopey state of sedation, to banish his former self, even as his bulk fell to the ground.

  The little beast remained attached to Acronos pumping him full of toxins. From the beast’s face protruded a proboscis lined with thousands of miniature spines. The opening of the proboscis had several suction cups that opened and closed like little mouths, leaking viscous drool.

  The galloping beasts came to a stop. The little fetus-like monsters that rode within the bloated stomach of the beast leapt onto the ground like little trolls. They were bow-legged as they hobbled to their prey. In a matter of seconds, they attacked Acronos’ legs, chewing his calcified flesh.

  “Acronos!” came a voice from somewhere.

  He was too sedated to move, but he could tell that it was the distant voice of Dagana. Then again that could just be his ears losing feeling much like his body. He laid there staring to the mountainous skies wondering just what the hell was happening to him. He couldn’t feel the fetal things on his leg, nor the proboscis that had latched onto the rough landscape of his chest, and he didn’t care. He figured they were moments away from feeling his wrath.

  A war cry issued through the land, startling the things that fed on Acronos. Though they had turned inward and tasted madness, they were at the very bottom of the food chain, and deep in the distortions of their madcap minds, they knew it. When Dagana stomped toward them howling like the mon
strous thing she was, they stopped their feeding frenzy. The fetal things stared at her approach with psychedelic eyes that reflected a rainbow of upside down images of Dagana. The look on her face rivaled the angriest of demons, causing the fetal creatures to seek refuge in their awkward wombs, however Dagana kicked the galloping beasts causing them to topple over one another before the little monsters had a chance to conceal themselves. She then grabbed one in each hand and smashed them together hard enough to pop their bodies like eggs, bursting them into a tiny explosion of blood and guts.

  Witnessing the atrocity, the flying creature retracted its proboscis before taking flight and evacuating the bad scene before it met a similar demise as its counterparts.

  Dagana came into view hovering over Acronos as he lay there oblivious to what had gone on around him, numb and slightly delirious from the poison traveling through his veins. He tried to move his limbs but they were locked in dried cement. Dagana’s obsidian eyes locked on his and he could see, even in his troubled state, that she was seriously pissed off.

  “Now do you see why I don’t go outside of the forbidden zones? Huh? And those abominable bottom feeders are the least of your worries. They are nothing here. They run in packs and swarm like pests. You see them,” Dagana gestured toward the three beings hanging from the rusty poles. “They’re demons. Teenage demons by the looks of them. Left here to be raped and tortured by their ilk and the others as they pass through this crossroad.”

  Acronos listened, but he couldn’t control his facial features. Jaw slack, his black tongue lolled, risking escape from his toothy maw.

  “We have to get out of here. Demons are also the least of your worries, not that you should worry about much here. You shouldn’t. Worry and fear pave the roads that lead to Hell, and those roads lead to enslavement and eternal punishment. It’s the Sentinels that you have to worry about. My kind. We are the rulers of the In Between, as I’ve told you before, but I am an outcast and they want my blood. If they think they can get to me through you, they won’t hesitate to torture you into submission.”

  From behind nearby rocks and trees, bottom feeders watched hoping Dagana would leave the poisoned beast where he lay. Yes, there were three perfectly good demons hanging there, but they tasted of sulfur, and sulfur tasted terrible no matter who or what ate it.

  “This is the last time I am going to do this for you,” said Dagana as she placed her hands on Acronos’ body. “From now on you are on your own. If you wander away again you had better know how to defend yourself from mere pests such as the ones that subdued you, because their predators are even more vicious, and they like blood just as much as anyone else in the In Between. Only the strongest survive. Remember that.”

  She closed her eyes and before the watching bottom feeders knew it, Dagana and Acronos slipped through the realms and back to Earth.

  26

  Yet another road clustered with people going here and there like ants following a trail of apple juice. Austin has traveled every major highway in the world. Many of them he knew intimately, other not so much. As for the I-80, he’d driven it several times going to the Sierras, but wasn’t as familiar as, say, the five that runs from Mexico to Canada through California, Oregon and Washington, or good ole Route 66.

  Austin liked scenery, he really did. It was one of the things he never grew bored of, however this trip was unlike any trip he’d ever been on before. Even in his darkest hour he’d felt more optimistic and lighthearted than he felt now. Scenery was just that, passing by like a background loop in an old cartoon. It was enough to put a person into a state of highway hypnosis, though there was far too much on Austin’s mind to cause that particular affliction. At least that’s what he thought.

  You wouldn’t lead me on, would ‘ya? said a voice in Austin’s mind. As if a pair of hands grabbed from the backseat, he actually swerved when it invaded his thoughts. He’d never experienced such a thing before. He was familiar with his mind’s eye and the various voices therein. There was his father’s voice, which he could replicate in his mind as if his old man was right there with him even though he hadn’t seen him in years. He could replicate his mother’s voice as well, and even Audrey’s, but the gritty voice that spoke in his mind was something foreign. He didn’t like it one bit.

  Like it? I don’t give a shit what you like, but I think maybe I should better illustrate what’s on the line here.

  It was Baz. The bastard was speaking to Austin telepathically. Gripping the wheel with sweaty hands, Austin told himself that it wasn’t happening, that he was indeed in control of his own mind.

  You’re mine, asshole! Get it? You cannot escape me.

  Austin told himself once again that he was in control, repeating I am in control, I am in control, but Baz insisted on barraging him with laughter and voices of nonsensical ramblings.

  “Shut up!” said Austin aloud. “Stop it!”

  He began to hyperventilate. It felt as if his mind was being filled like a balloon, far past its bursting point, and that soon he would suffer an aneurysm.

  “I’m pulling the car over.”

  Oh no you’re not.

  And that’s when everything changed. The madcap ranting in his mind ceased, however the car had transformed into a rusty heap of its former self. Austin withdrew his hands from the wheel in terror as it began to undulate beneath his fingers like a serpent, though it resembled some kind of rotten sausage.

  “What the hell is going on?” Austin was a man who didn’t scare easily, however the past ten minutes had been perhaps the most frightening ten minutes he’d ever experienced, and it was getting worse by the second. Things had changed all around him. It wasn’t just the car, but the scenery, too. The pines that had been to his left and right looked almost burnt, or covered in fine black mold. The ground had become decidedly sandier, however it was more like a path of tiny pebbles.

  “You wouldn’t lead me in the wrong direction, would you?” said Baz who was suddenly sitting in the passenger side of the car, tipping back some kind of jar that looked as if it was made of dried skin, drinking from it. Baz extended his arm clutching the dried-skin jar and offered the elixir to Austin.

  “No thanks,” said Austin. His heart raced as he tried to navigate the car.

  “Go ‘head. Try it. You like a little nip here and again. I’ve seen you. You hit the bottle as soon as you wake up every fucking day like normal people brush their teeth. You have to, right? To ward off the shakes? To ward off your . . . demons.”

  Austin didn’t respond. He wasn’t going to discuss his alcohol problem with some blood-crazed monster. But he knew he’d better comply or he might find himself in deeper trouble than this lunatic had already set him up for.

  Baz shook the jar. Some of the liquid jumped ship and dotted his gnarled arm. “G’head. It won’t kill you.”

  Austin took in a deep breath and then shifted his head to look into Baz’s strange mercury eyes. “Why are you doing this to me?” he asked.

  Baz grinned, but even a happy grin would have looked maniacal at best. “Don’t ask stupid questions. You’re going to find Dagana for me. She’s cavorting around your world, and I don’t like your world. Somehow she blends in there. It makes me sick. Drink up. You’ll feel better.”

  “Where are we?”

  “The In Between. My world. Drink!”

  Baz shook the dead-skin cup, and this time his voice was laden with anger and venom. Austin grabbed the cup. It was light and felt like papier-mâché beneath his fingers. It was wrong. He’d drunk mystic wines and fire-water in primitive nations all across the world during his travels, but this was like nothing he’d ever experienced. He was truly fearful of drinking whatever was in the cup, but more fearful of what Baz would do to him were he not to drink.

  He drank. Just a sip, but he knew that wouldn’t suffice, and so he took a little bit deeper drink, but not too much. There was no telling what it would do to him. The flavor wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t normal either. It
was a sweet and savory taste that seemed to defy the logistics of flavor itself.

  “We’re nearing one of the crossroads,” said Baz. “There you’ll see how serious this is to me.”

  The car drove itself through a land barren and twisted inside out. Nothing was familiar, yet in some bent way it was all familiar, just spun differently. The trees, the rocks, even the wildlife; it was like the very things of Earth put through a time warp and thrust into a parallel universe upside down and inside out.

  “Here we are,” said Baz as the car rolled over a small hill and into a clearing that was decorated with cages, shacks, and other such contraptions, many of which would seem to fit nicely in a torture dungeon or on the outskirts of a medieval castle to ward away enemies.

  The absurd car came to a stop. It seemed to breath and move like a living thing, wheezing as if out of breath, dry-mouthed and in need of water, gasoline, or whatever cars used for fuel in this world. Once they came to a complete stop Austin realized that not only were the strange lands of this particular clearing littered with cages and torture devices, but they were in use, too. Bodies were strung abound, some of them writhing and others just lying there with blank timeworn stares of madness and exhaustion. They were of varied species, though all decidedly human in make up. Some of them were demons, others nomads who passed through the realms and committed an atrocity, and others had been pulled in from Earth, such as the woman who was suspended twenty feet into the air and strapped to a crude contraption of metal and exotic woods. Her body was severely sun burnt, but she looked much fresher than the other caged and bound freaks.

  Baz downed the final gulp of his potent liquor. “Right up there.” He pointed to the woman suspended on the makeshift contraption.