In The Lap Of The Gods

by John B. Hendricks

  “I’m going for a walk,” Jehovah had told Peter one day. Jehovah had snatched the keys from Peter’s hand, tipped his fedora, and disappeared into the mist. Peter saw the gate that Jehovah had swung wide open was closing quickly, so Peter jammed his mitre into it so it wouldn’t lock and keep people out of Heaven. That was 1500 years ago.

  The crowds of people slowed to a trickle until finally no one looked to gain admittance. He saw an occasional ephemeral being in the distance, but Ertosi and his band of violent mercenaries scared them off. Someone had brought him a deck of cards a couple of hundred years ago, but the thrill of solitaire had long faded and now he just did it by rote. He knew every possible combination of cards.

  “Hey, you can put that black queen on that red king.”

  St. Peter fell off his stool.

  From the ground, he saw a group of four men looking at him questioningly. He scrambled to his feet and straightened his robe. “I am St. Peter,” he said, trying to put some authority into his voice. “Welcome to Heaven.” He leaned over his terminal and checked for their names. Nothing.

  He looked at them again. “There seems to be a problem. You’re not appearing on my screen.”

  “That’s probably because we are not deceased,” Fat Boy said. “Well, most of us are not,” he modified, looking at Baldur.

  “But, that’s impossible,” St. Peter said. “Inconceivable! Only the dearly departed can make it this far. It’s in the manual.” Peter fished around under the greeting podium. “I know it’s around here somewhere.”

  “Peter,” said Absalom. “I think it’s okay.” He jangled the keys. Peter stopped and slowly stood up. Wide-eyed, he said. “The keys. You have the keys. Where is Jehovah? When can I take a break?”

  Peter fell over in a cold faint.

  Silence greeted him when he awakened. The four men were no longer there. He sat up and rubbed his head. Maybe it was all a dream, he thought. Wait, something is on my head. He grabbed at it and realized it was his silk mitre that had been bestowed to him when he took over the Pearly Gate. I’m locked out, he thought. The gate must have closed without the hat blocking it open.” He covered his eyes with his hands and looked toward the gate with dread anticipation. Slowly, he peeked through his fingers. His heart sank. The gate was closed.

  He got up and trudged over to the gate. Maybe those guys will come back and let me in. His thoughts brightened and he leaned on the bars of the gates. The gate pushed open.

  He fell over.

  Using the frame to pull himself to his feet, he examined the Pearly Gate. The lock was completely ripped out of it. I wonder what they could ever use that lock for? Peter thought. He stepped across the threshold and kept walking, looking for a place to eat. He felt that he deserved it.

  Chapter 71[71]

  “Boy, this place sure is dead,” Fat Boy said.

  “Literally and figuratively,” Absalom agreed. He wondered if Joe even cared that his finest work of architecture had been deserted. Absalom doubted it. Joe was all about Joe and Joe’s needs. Something trivial like abandoning the people who worshipped you enough that they were able to gain access to Jehovah’s Private Club didn’t seem to matter much to the Great Creator. Absalom fumed.

  “Here’s one of those signs,” Solly said. He stood in front of a large glowing sign. A large red X at the bottom indicated where they were.

  Fat Boy’s head was on a swivel, keeping an eye out for Lucifer. He had pictured something entirely different in his vision of Heaven. He envisioned angelic choirs and crowds of people doing some Gregorian chanting. Instead, there seemed to be a lot of paper trash blowing around, an eerie silence, and for some reason many tumbleweeds rolling past them. Regardless, he kept alert.

  Absalom read the address of Jehovah’s office to the sign and it printed out a map on how to reach it. “Keep your eyes peeled,” Absalom told Solly and Fat Boy. Baldur seemed more curious about the city than keeping an eye out for enemies. “This is the kind of place that a Norse god wouldn’t be caught dead in,” he said. “All flash and no substance, like a glittering award for the suckers. Look at all of this, I must really love you, that’s all this place says.” Baldur shook his head in disagreement. “This is a shallow place.”

  Absalom agreed. They pressed on through the deserted streets to the center of Heaven. They found the gigantic high-rise building that housed the offices of the Lord.

  “Babel Tower,” Fat Boy read. “Our buddy Joe seems to have a twisted sense of humor.” They walked through the lobby and read the sign beside the elevator. “God’s office. 200th floor,” it said. They got in the elevator and before they could blink, the doors opened with a soft ding.

  Plush carpet and Scandinavian furniture were some of the highlights of the room. The walls were adorned with what appeared to be Greek paintings from their classical period. The full-wall glass windows provided a breath-taking panoramic view of the entire City of God. A large number of “Please call” memos were stacked on a large oak desk. Several boxes nearby overflowed with the same.

  Solly’s eyes found the wooden credenza.

  It was there.

  Solly walked over zombie-like, his arms outstretched. The small clay cup stood about six inches tall. It appeared delicate and fragile but when Solly picked it up, it felt solid and substantial. He examined it closely. There was lettering on the side just under the rim. It was Greek.

  “Property of the Happy Fisherman Restaurant,” Solly translated. He couldn’t believe it.

  Jehovah, in his assumed role as Jesus, had nicked the cup from the restaurant where the Last Supper had taken place.

  “Did you find it, Solly?” Absalom asked. He was still looking out at the view. It was truly wondrous. I wonder if Evangeline is out there somewhere, he thought.

  “I found it,” Solly said, tucking the grail into his bag.

  Absalom touched the screen on Jehovah’s desk. “Hello, Adonai,” the bright feminine voice said. “How can I serve and worship you today?”

  Geez, even the computers are in full adulation mode. “I need to find an individual,” Absalom said.

  “Then just ask,” the computer said.

  “Evangeline Jones,” Absalom said breathlessly.

  “Searching.” Absalom mentally heard the computer sifting through the voluminous files. “Found. Evangeline Jones. Reported deceased in master file. No record of Heavenly residence. Final disposition unknown.”

  “Are you saying,” Absalom said, his voice rising, “that she’s in Hell?”

  “Unknown,” the computer said. “No record.”

  “That’s crazy,” Fat Boy said. “Dead, but lost? Did something cataclysmic happen up here that we don’t know about?”

  “Computer,” Absalom said. “Last record issued for a new resident.”

  “Searching. James, son of Cooper. Issue date. 1256 ACE.”

  “That explains it,” Absalom said. “No one has entered Heaven for 750 years. That’s why St. Peter was freaked out and why the streets are deserted. This ship has been abandoned, but unlike the tradition, the Captain bailed first.”

  “Now what, boss?” Fat Boy said.

  “No trace of Lucifer in here,” Absalom said. “It looks like we need to head over to Eve’s house. If he’s not been there and we can’t find any clues, then we are totally screwed.”

  They exited the building and wove their way to Eve’s house. It was a nice California style bungalow with a pleasant looking garden in the front. Heaven seemed nice on the surface, but underneath it seemed to have a rotting core.

  There was no front door so they went straight in.

  “Yoohoo?” Fat boy yelled. “Anybody home? Adam? Eve?” He looked at Absalom. “Never thought I’d been yelling that in this lifetime.”

  “Look at this,” Solly said. He was kneeling beside the glass coffee table. It was cracked and the potted plant that had been on it was scattered onto the floor. “Something happened here and it wasn’t good.”

  “Lu
cifer kidnapped her,” Absalom said. “Took her by force.”

  They all jumped when they heard the scream. To Absalom’s ears, it was the scream of a little girl that saw a giant mouse in the closet of her bedroom.

  Fat Boy leaped over the couch and flung open the door of the closet where the sound emanated from. A small, hairy little man sat on the floor covered in beach towels. He was trembling like the San Andreas Fault.

  “Don’t hurt me!” he shouted in his little girl voice. “I can help you. Belphegor knows things. Many things. Important things!” Fat Boy grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and hauled him out.

  “What do you know?” Absalom asked calmly. “Does Lucifer have Eve?”

  “Lucifer was too late,” Belphegor whimpered. “He came for his beloved and she had already been taken. Take me with you,” he said.

  “Who took her?”

  “The wretched Queen of Hell, Lilith did,” Belphegor said. “She is worse than a pit full of Episcopalians. She punched Eve out and carried her off and left me to face the wrath of Lucifer!” He started sobbing.

  “Where did Lilith take her?” Baldur asked.

  “Back to the fiery pit! She’s bait for Lucifer. He is following her back to the place he left, such is his deepest love for her. Lilith will keep him from Eve and maximize the torment. The vibe in Hell will be at the red torment level,” Belphegor whimpered.

  “Can you show us the way?” said Baldur.

  Belphegor looked at them. “You won’t beat me or call me Hairy-Ass?”

  “Of course not,” Absalom said.

  “I hate Lilith,” Belphegor said. “She treats everyone like gum on her shoes. Lucifer was a peach. He knew how to treat you with respect. Can I tell you the story about married happiness?”

  “You can, on the way back,” Absalom said.

  “But, but, but, what if we get caught?” Belphegor stammered. “Lilith rules with iron fist. She’ll catch us all and force-feed us live eels. Just for starters.”

  “We’ve got a little power ourselves,” Fat Boy said. “The keys to heaven, the Holy Grail, and a chain of silver.”

  “It sounds like you’ve been on religious scavenger hunt to me,” Belphegor said.

  “In a sense, you’re right,” Absalom said. “But we might be able to help you even it up with Lilith and save the earth at the same time. Are you in?”

  Belphegor thought about it and shrugged. “You’ll protect Belphegor? Closet was very safe and smelled good.”

  “It will be okay. Lead the way,” Absalom said. “Solly, let’s go.”

  Solly looked up from the terminal on Jehovah’s desk. “Coming,” he said.

  “Emily Goldstein. Deceased. Final disposition unknown,” the screen said silently.

  Chapter 72[72]

  They followed Belphegor down a set of golden stairs into a cavernous room that stretched beyond the range of their vision. Their footfalls echoed eerily as they set out across the great expanse.

  The room started narrowing and Absalom spotted a long barrier across the neck of the room. A ladder was propped up against it. Belphegor jumped up and down excited. “Here is where we go over!”

  “I’ll go first,” Baldur said. “I think I’ve been this way before.”

  He confidently climbed up the tall ladder and peered over the edge. Humanity was packed beneath him. The Remusians were really cleaning house. He turned and looked down at his comrades. “When you get up here, just let yourself fall over the side like your scuba diving. They’re packed like sardines down there, so the crowd will break your fall whether they want to or not. Get up quickly and press against the wall so we can stay together.”

  “What about we get split up?” Solly said. “Then what?”

  Absalom looked at Belphegor who said. “Much turmoil and confusion near the entrance. Go to wall opposite office. Maintenance door. Belphegor has maintenance key. Teeraal and I both demoted to cleanup duties. Insufficient butt kissing of Lilith. All office politics. Knock three times.”

  Baldur inclined his head, leaned backwards, and disappeared from view.

  Solly went next, then Fat Boy. Absalom shoved a suddenly reluctant Belphegor up the ladder and dumped him over the side. He took a deep breath and flopped over backwards into the streaming crowd.

  Absalom felt himself riding the human wave and struggled to get down. When he found his feet on the floor, he looked around frantically but there was no sign of the others. He was pushed forward relentlessly. Ahead he could see a flashing sign.

  “HELL,” it pulsed continuously.

  “Belphegor!” he shouted in vain as he was shoved through the exit.

  The smell hit him. It was a combination of the worst of bad farts, sulfur, skunk, and diesel exhaust. He hacked and coughed ferociously. The people around him looked at him oddly.

  “What’s the problem, buddy?” a fat little old man asked.

  “Fumes,” Absalom choked. “Horrible.”

  “I smell it too,” he said, “but it’s not like I have any lungs left to breathe it. Heck, I feel clear as a summer day and haven’t felt so good since I got the emphysema that put me down like a sick dog.” He looked at Absalom. “You ain’t dead, are ya? How in the heck did you end up here?”

  “Saving the world,” Absalom said.

  “Then you probably need to get back to the world for that,” the fat man said. “We’re the damned, apparently. I thought I wasn’t that bad. Must have been all that masturbation I performed as a youth. No pre-marital sex allowed but the Big Guy still expected us not to take matters into our own hands. Now that’s a setup for failure.”

  The line was narrowing down into separate lanes and Absalom could see where each line was running through a gateway that looked like an airport security scanner. As each of the deceased went through, a red light flashed on the gate and a spiked creature that resembled a man-sized stegosaurus sans tail shuttled the person away. When Absalom went through the gate, no light flashed. A Stego grabbed him by the arm, and then hesitated.

  “You didn’t register,” he said to Absalom. “Hold on.”

  Stego forced his way back into the line, kicking and punching people until they were forced back away from the gate. The creature motioned to Absalom with one vicious-looking talon to come back. Absalom could feel the eyes all around him watching his every move as he walked back through the gate. He faced the Stego.

  “Back through, meat popsicle,” he grunted, spinning Absalom around and giving him a two-handed shove. Absalom stumbled through the gate. Still nothing.

  Stego scratched him head in confusion. His massive back was blocking the line and he was falling behind in his quota. Lilith would have all three of his testicles in a lock-vise if he didn’t keep his numbers up. He strode back through the gate and the torrent of humanity resumed its path.

  “You,” he said to Absalom. “I don’t have the time or managerial accountability to find out or worry about why you aren’t registering. What do you say that you be a good little soldier and just find a line somewhere and join it. Then you’re out of my area and I can’t be held responsible.” He grabbed Absalom by the throat and lifted him a foot off the ground. “You’ve never seen my handsome face, have you?” Absalom shook his head no, as much as he could in the monster’s vise-like grip.

  “Good team player,” Stego said, releasing him. He swatted Absalom on the butt. “Move on and have a nice afterlife.” Absalom sprinted away into the milling crowd.

  Catching his breath, he looked around. More people were pouring through the check gates on his left. To his right he could see people queuing up in front of huge doorless entrances. He squinted and read some of the signs.

  “Torn Apart By Dogs.”

  “Drowning in the Sea of Nuclear Waste.”

  “The Disney Room.”

  Absalom dry-heaved, his hands on his knees, shaking. He looked up over the crowd and saw a giant glass partition about a story above the throng. “Office,” the sign said on it. He lo
oked behind him and saw a large craggy looking stone wall. Maintenance, he thought, and walked sideway through the crowd. The non-denondescriptscript door was nestled deep in the stone and he almost missed it. He tucked himself inside the entryway in front of the door and took a deep breath. The air was a little cleaner on this end of the area and Absalom was glad he had not suffered an asthma attack. When he was a kid, he had went through a few bouts of anxiety episodes that his country family doctor had attributed to Absalom’s weak constitutional fortitude, but his mother had insisted otherwise. To placate her, he dug up an old air nebulizer and Absalom had spent a few years taking precautionary treatments before going outside to prevent any attacks that his mother thought could lock up his lungs and kill him.

  It had taken him a number of years to get over that bit of paranoia.

  He rapped on the door three times and waited. He heard keys scratch around in the lock and the door opened to a crack. Belphegor’s hairy head poked out and the door flung open. Octopus arms grabbed him and pulled him through.

  The octopus, which turned out to be the eight arms of Fat Boy, Solly, Baldur and Belphegor, pounded him on the back and squeezed him like a veteran returning home from a victorious campaign. “Man, I thought we had lost you,” Fat Boy said. “When that big dinosaur guy grabbed you, I thought you were going to get your ticket punched for the Bait for Hungry Sharks Room.’”

  “We were able to group together before we got to the entry gate,” Baldur said. “Belphegor was able to shepherd us through on his own recognizance. We tried to yell to you but the din was way too loud.” Baldur punched him on the arm. “We were sitting here trying to decide what to do if our fearless leader was no longer available.”