“Owen, my audience is waiting patiently for you, but we won’t wait forever. So, I’ll ask again. What did you learn?”
Owen choked back a nervous cough. “I don’t know. I don’t really know what you want me to say. I guess I learned that I should have been better.”
“Wrong,” Big Red bellowed. “Well, my wonderful audience, you know what happens to those who don’t seem to get the lesson. Bye, Owen. Say hello to my big brother. He’s going to enjoy meeting you, even if you won’t”
A fireball engulfed the chair that Owen was seated in and as he burned the crowd cheered mercilessly. Hands on John’s lower back gave him a strong shove and his legs that had been locked in position were suddenly functional again. Damned if that wasn’t the worst feeling. It was the illusion of free will. The stage manager just chuckled behind him.
“Welcome, welcome! Everyone, let’s give a warm welcome to our new friend, John Robert Thompson. John tell us a little bit about yourself. We are dying to get to know you.”
The words, innocent enough, were filled with hidden meaning. The audience was now visible to John, and for that he was very sorry. There were rows and rows of hideous creatures of all colors and shapes. Most were half-animal, half-human hybrids. Each looked like a science experiment gone wrong. They were clapping excitedly and heckling John as he sat down. The chair had been spared from damage when the fireball incinerated Owen.
Those two wretched skeletal hands locked down on his ankles. John knew it was just another layer of control. He was positive that his legs wouldn’t have worked to get him off the stage if he tried to take off. There was also the fact that John knew there was nowhere to run to. If Big Red was looking for him to resist, it wasn’t going to happen. John may not have been particularly motivated in his life, but he had a knack of knowing when a fight was pointless.
“Me?” John asked innocently. “There is so little to tell. I am sure you know that. I am more interested in you, and them. Can you tell me where I am?”
“Can I tell you where you are? Of course, I can, you insignificant little...” Big Red yelled before regaining his composure.
Someone doesn’t like his power questioned John thought as he filed away that small bit of information. It might be useful later. He had to hope there was more than one way out of this, and even if there wasn’t, stalling didn’t seem like the worst plan ever.
“You, my tiny friend, are at the passing of souls. Some get sorted up. Some get sorted down, like our dear friend, Owen. Well, most who end up here get sorted down. Come to think of it, I don’t remember the last time I sorted someone up. Even if you managed to get sorted up from here you may not end all the way up. You do know where I mean when I say up. Like up, up. The place all you humans want to get to, The light at the end of the tunnel. But enough about that,” Big Red explained.
“You asked about me. I’m Big Red, one of the old man with the forked tail’s brothers. There are a few of us around. We administer the entrance exam in our own ways. You are so lucky to have ended up here with me. My brothers don’t all put this amount of showmanship into their jobs. I really want you to have an experience before you start paying for all those sins. Like one last hoorah. Know what I mean?”
“That’s awfully nice of you,” John said.
“We’ll see if that is how you still feel when this is over. Say hi to John, my fabulously demonic audience!” Big Red waved his hand out towards the crowd seated in front of him. They went crazy with excitement. Hellish howls and screams rang out as they were introduced to John. “Get a good look, human. These may very well be your wardens for the rest of eternity.”
That whipped them into a frenzy. John squirmed in his seat. If they charged the stage he would be unable to do anything about it. He wiggled his legs and the hands gripped him tighter. Even after he stopped struggling they refused to loosen. Big Red was staring menacingly down at him. The smile was a practiced art of fear-inducing mixed signals.
“Oh John, don’t worry. They cannot come after you until final judgment has been passed. You must be deemed undeserving of a chance to move up before they can start their torment. And they are exceptionally good at tormenting those that end up in their care. They come up here for a break from the fast pace. Seeing the same despair and loss of fight becomes tedious. You ‘new bloods’ are so fresh.” That last word rolled off his tongue like he could taste its deliciousness.
“Fresh,” John muttered worried to himself.
“Yes, John. Fresh and new, something we covet around here. When time has no meaning, you are jealous of the newness, the naivety of those who are brand new to our world. Now, John, stop stalling and tell us something about yourself. You have but this one chance to set the record straight.”
John swallowed hard. “Fine. My name is John Robert Thompson, but you already know that. I was 45 when I died, and I am not really sure how that happened. I worked in a supermarket my whole life, not because I loved it, but because it paid the bills. On Earth, you do what you’ve got to do to get by. I...” John was puzzled at what more to say.
“Goals, John? Dreams? Accomplishments? Misdeeds? You’ve got to give us something. You have a captivated audience here, and you are bombing.”
“It is really hard to concentrate with your afterlife hanging in the balance,” John quipped.
“My, my John. You better come up with some kind of plan. Something to keep our interest, or this is over before it even begins,” Big Red taunted him.
“Fine, you want to know who I am, maybe it will be easier to tell you who I am not. I am not a risk taker. I am not an explorer, or an inventor. I am not a ladies’ man, or a thief, or murderer. I am not a musician, or writer, or international man of mystery. I was someone’s son, and grandson, at times I was a student and, in my best moments, a friend. I was loyal, but not ambitious. I would stand by you, but only if standing by was what you needed. If you needed more you needed to look somewhere else,” John grew more passionate as his speech continued.
“I wasn’t the best-looking man, or the smartest, and definitely not the strongest, but when it came to being average, I was the absolute best at that. My grandfather wanted more, so did my mother, and for the most part all the people who came into contact with me eventually gave up and left. I was abandoned and still kept moving. I may not have been a go-getter, but I was there every day putting my time in.”
“Well, well. We have a lively one here. So, what makes you, John, Mr. So-So Average think that he deserves to find his way out of my brother’s grasp and into the world of angels and clouds?” Big Red asked accusingly.
“I don’t really have an answer to that. What I can say is that I cannot think of a time I did something so bad as to deserve an eternity of torment.” John looked off to the spot where he had been waiting and saw another person staring petrified back at him. His time must be coming to a close.
“Fair enough, but is this place really about fair? I guess we will find out, now won’t we? Alright John, time for the million-dollar question. What did you learn?”
“Nothing. But if I got really lucky I was able to teach someone something at some point in my pathetic excuse for a life.” John braced himself for the fireball to blow him up, or burn him up, or whatever happened when a mystical ball of flames engulfs you. But it never came. He blinked and there he was sitting next to a white owl, perched on a willow tree branch.
The grass was soft and the air smelled of flowers. “Is this heaven?” John asked hopefully.
“No, the owl answered turning his head 180 degrees to look at him. This is your second test to decide up or down. Do you know which direction you came from?”
“Yes, sir, I was definitely down.”
“Well, that’s good. You’re moving up in the world.”
Highway to Hell
The piece of toast had wedged itself just far enough down in the toaster that when
the time was up and it was supposed to pop up as toasty goodness it instead failed to lift above the rim of the toaster. There stood John, knife in his hand, knowing damn well that his mother had told him throughout the entirety of his teenage years that he was not to stick metal into the toaster for he would surely electrocute himself. Of course, his mother was right, as mothers generally are, and even though it took until his 105th time of reaching in with a knife to get his wedged toast, John did indeed electrocute himself.
He cursed under his breath, not that anyone would have understood it if they had been in the room, but of course, there was no one there to hear it anyway. His cursing came out like a muffled gurgle. What John thought he was saying was, “Oh you have got to be shitting me,” but what he actually said was, “Ohrrrggggghhh, fluuuuuu, bbiii, ttttthhhhhhhh, ddddddddddo.”
Those were John’s glorious last words. In either scenario, understood or misunderstood, they were a giant pile of dog-doo as far as last words go. But John wasn’t around to really care about that anymore, and no one had heard them so it really was a wash in the grand scheme of things. Before John’s body had managed to hit the ground, he was transported off to another realm anyway.
John was riding shotgun. The man in the driver’s seat looked to be no older than twenty or twenty-five. Scruffy and unkempt, John was slightly nervous at the idea of this man overseeing the direction of whatever vehicle they were in was pointed. He soon noticed that they were not actually moving but were completely blocked in, trapped in what looked like the world’s largest traffic jam.
“Hey.” His car mate grunted from the seat next to him without turning his head to look and see who had appeared.
“Um. Hey yourself. Where the hell are we, and how the hell did we get here?” John shot back.
“I dunno.”
“What do you mean ‘You dunno?” John asked, panicked.
“I mean I dunno, dude. I got here a little bit before you and haven’t moved an inch. Seems as good a place as any. Wish I had my bowl with me right now, though.”
“Are you freaking kidding me? You magically poof into a car somewhere, and all you can think about is getting high, not how you got here or where here is?”
“Nah man. The universe has a way of sorting itself out.”
“What the hell does that even mean?” John snipped.
“It means sit back and enjoy the ride dude. Let it hang. Do whatever it is you do to chill. Because as far as I can tell, we’re going to be sitting here for a long, long time.”
There was a sizzling sound from the back seat.
“Sounds like we have company dude,” the stoner said.
John turned to face the back seat and realized a twitchy teenage girl with the loudest pink hair he had ever seen was staring back at him. She immediately started ripping at the door handle next to her, trying to get it to open so she could dive out of the car.
“Easy there, Pinkie,” John said trying to calm down their new car buddy.
“You stay away from me. I have a knife and I swear to God I will slit your throat if you try to touch me. How the hell did I get here and who are you two?” she demanded to know.
“Good question sweetheart, but neither of us know. We just got here too,” John answered.
“You can take your ‘sweethearts’ and shove them up your ass. I don’t know how you two got me here, but I am getting out of this car first chance I get. You ain’t going to be having your way with me. No, sir. That is not happening, so stop thinking it.”
John was about to turn around and do his best to ignore the tiny little spitfire in the back seat until she could understand that neither of them had anything to do with her appearance in this god forsaken car when he heard another sizzle. A very large, heavily tattooed man with skin as dark as night appeared next to the little pink haired girl. She yelped and began scratching at the door frame like a caged animal. He on the other hand turned his head slowly as he checked out his new surroundings.
“Hmmmmm,” he grunted.
“Dude, you are huge!” the stoner exclaimed.
The giant eyed the stoner up and down but the stoner seemed unfazed by this mental assessment. He was too busy checking all his mirrors and adjusting his seat back to give the guy more room. Suddenly, he was acting as though he was actually heading somewhere. The problem was that no one had told that to the cars in front of him. So even after all of his safety checks, they were still exactly where they were three seconds prior.
“Hey, we should all just calm down. We all got here the same way, so Pinkie, you might want to chill the hell out. My name is John, and I don’t know where we are any more than any of you do. I would love to figure out exactly what is going on here. And since we know you can’t exit the car, maybe just maybe, we should relax for a freaking second until we know what’s up. Deal?”
“Deal,” chimed out in unison from the stoner and the girl while the beast just grunted. John took that as agreement. The quiet allowed John to get a better look outside without distraction. There were crappy old cars as far as the eye could see in every direction. Each was filled to capacity. For some that meant two people, but others had as many as ten or so. John was happy he only had three other people to deal with.
The air was thick with smog from all of the vehicles. It was so thick, in fact, that you couldn’t see the area outside of the cars. There they sat, in a line of cars with no markers to tell them where they are going or how far away they were from it. The only thing they would see after observing for a few minutes would be a lack of movement. They may be in cars, but they weren’t in motion.
John focused in on a car two rows over. The windows were smeared with what looked like blood. The occupants were hunched over like they were dead. It was eerily still inside the car. As he was watching the blood faded away and the people slowly came back to life. Oh no. John thought. There really is no way out.
Pinkie must have seen it too because there was a gasp from the backseat. He wasn’t really in the mood to have to keep calming that girl back down, not when he had no idea what was happening himself. Aside from that, John had avoided most interaction with people throughout his life due to moments like this. He wasn’t really the helping type. But in this car, he seemed the best equipped to keep everyone calm.
An idea struck John, and he opened the glove compartment. There was an owner’s manual for the car, 1981 Chevy Malibu Owner’s Guide was printed across the front. There was also a manual and a small black book. The brochure was black with a plain white font printed across the front. Welcome to the Highway to Hell. John wanted to read it through before he alerted the others.
Welcome to the world-famous Highway to Hell. You may be asking yourself how you got here, and what happens next. All of your questions will be answered when you reach the Hell Intake Center. For now, sit back, relax and enjoy the ride. You should arrive at your destination shortly depending on traffic. There were pictures through the pages of people engaged in numerous everyday activities such as sitting at a bar and watching TV.
“Found something,” John said as he tossed the brochure back to the back row.
“At least we know where we are now. Sucks that we are headed to Hell,” Pinkie said. “And what’s with all the pics of people playing and hanging out? That can’t possibly be what this place is like. Probably some bait and switch kind of crap.”
“Let me see that,” the giant said as he snatched the brochure out of her hand.
“Geez, you could have just asked. I was done with the thing anyway. Anything else in there?” she asked directing her attention to John.
“An owner’s manual and a little notebook.”
“Weird,” the stoner joined in, “pass me the owner’s manual. I wanna see if I can get the radio working. I tried it before you all got here, but it was a dud. We need some tunes in this swag wagon!” He air drummed at the end just to make
his point.
“You want to see the notebook?” John offered it to the back row.
“Nah,” Pinkie said, “just pass it back when you are done.”
The beast grunted in agreement. He was still staring at the brochure in front of him. John opened the notebook to the first page. There were strange symbols scribbled in what he hoped wasn’t blood, but due to their current situation, he was pretty sure that was what he was looking at. He flipped through the book slowly. Each page was distinctly different. It was like looking at the assembly instructions for a piece of furniture that came in dozens of languages. You could tell that they were separate and unique, but not what they said.
As he got closer to the end the pages were filled with more familiar looking styles. He realized that these were the languages of man as time went on. There were hieroglyphics and other picture languages. Then came the Asian and Middle Eastern writings. Followed by European languages and finally he reached English. Rules and Regulations of the Highway Authority. Just then, John was distracted by commotion that was occurring in his peripheral vision.
A man had rolled his window down and was making his way out of the driver’s side window when a large winged creature flew down and scooped him up, tearing him to pieces as it flew away. One of his hands landed heavily on John’s car and left a fairly large dent. Pinkie screamed. By now he was hoping she was becoming numb to the experience, but no luck yet.
The truly amazing thing was how the man reappeared in his seat seconds after his hand had mysteriously melted away. John was thankful for hand crank windows, and now, armed with that knowledge, he rolled his down. “What are you out of your mind?” Pinkie wailed from the back seat.
“I am pretty sure that thing only came along because he tried to get out of the car. I just want to see if I can talk to anyone who has been here longer than us. I promise if I see any monsters I will roll up the window,” John said calmly and slowly like he was talking to a child.
The Many Afterlives of John Robert Thompson Page 7