Hell Cop

by David C. Burton

  “Once inside I fall apart. Sometimes I don't make it to the bed. I'm curled up in a ball and shaking and crying with terror and laughing with relief at the same time. I mean I just freak for hours.” She hugged herself and shivered. “It takes a couple days till I can sleep regular.”

  I put my arm around her and drew her close.

  “Sounds pretty normal to me,” I said.

  She laid her head on my shoulder, and who's to say who got the most comfort out it?

  Suddenly, our companionable silence was interrupted by a long, high scream cut short at the height of its crescendo. The scream echoed around the cavern, impossible to tell what direction it came from. A little slow on the uptake we scrambled for our guns. We waited. Nothing happened.

  “I guess we're not alone anymore, are we?” Sneaker said.

  “I guess not,” I said, relaxing. “Now I have something to be scared of.”

  Then I started to laugh, and she started to laugh, and pretty soon we were on a laughing jag that left us helpless. Tears streaming, gasping for breath, one of us would get under control, then a glance would set us off again.

  My stomach hurt when I crawled back to my sleeping pad, totally wasted. Sneaker joined me. At some point we made love again and then slept. When we woke, we washed and ate, then packed and climbed down the ladder. Sneaker's ankle, while sore, had improved considerably. Pain is something a Hell Cop quickly learns to ignore.

  At the mine tunnel entrance we surveyed the fire area. All seemed quiet and normal. We slipped out of the tunnel to the left and began an easy jog that would quickly cover the three miles to the trail that led over the mountains to 101—The Schoolyard.

  The first mile went easy. At each set of tracks we stopped and checked for Supervisors and minions. Twice we had to hide, but that's normal. I began to worry that things were going too smoothly when we came up on a group by an overturned ore cart. The Supervisor, a ten foot tall by five foot wide demon with four arms and a scrunched up werewolf face, cursed imaginatively and flogged his minions and souls. As fast as they gathered up the ore, he'd kick it out of their hands and curse even louder.

  I leaned over and nibbled on her ear and said, “A sweet innocent young thing like you shouldn't be listening to crude fucking shit like that.”

  She turned and gently sucked on my ear lobe and said, “Are you going to be my hero and go tell him to stop?”

  “You have to learn sometime.”

  She gave me a dig in the ribs. “It hasn't said anything I haven't already said, better.”

  “I'm sure. It looks like they're going to be there for awhile. We'll have to go upstairs through the Hot Zone.”

  She dug around in her pack. “I hate going through up there. Even with nose filters, it stinks.”

  We were hiding in a small indentation in the rock wall which contained steps that led to the upper level. You get used to the general odor of Hell, but there are places where the stench is particularly intense. The reek of charred flesh, the ever present brimstone, and the suffering sweat of the eternally damned combine in the Hot Zone to form an exceptionally potent stench. With nose filters installed, asbestos booties fitted, and guns at hand we mounted the stairs. At the top I took a big breath, activated the Find, and once again stepped out into one of the most Hellish of Hells.

  Chapter Fourteen

  In all the miles in all the directions the canyons of 15 stretch there is no break in the crush of souls clamoring to escape the burning rock. Sneaker and I didn't have the luxury of sending minions through the door first to clear the way for us like the demon Supervisors. We emerged at the bottom of the heap. The stench hit me like a breaking wave, the impact stronger than the press of souls. Sneaker's eyes crossed for a few seconds; then she shook herself and nodded she was ready.

  Souls are strange things. Though they were piled three or four high on top of us and ten or more in front of us they offered little resistance as we pushed forward. It's as if they have mass but no mass. You can touch them, hit, cut, and fuck them, and your senses tell you they are real; however in the reality of Hell, they are quite unsubstantial. Moving through them was like walking through heavy water.

  The anguished cries of those wretched souls are almost as bad as the smell. It's an emotional battering you take, though. From a distance, even from the fire level, the cries merge into one and with practice can be ignored. But, as we followed the cliff at the bottom of the stack, each scream had an individual face.

  A woman soul clutched at me, tried to climb over me to get her feet off the hot stone. One side of her face was a pretty young woman and the other side was charred black, the eyeball a dangling black lump. Don't interfere. “Help me,” she pleaded. Don't interfere. She had her arms around my neck, half-face inches from mine. “Please.” I grasped her arms to push her away. A man-soul with a blood spattered gray face and milky pig eyes grabbed her hair and threw her down. It had to have been my imagination that I heard the sizzle of her skin. The man-soul stepped on her and grabbed my shoulder to pull himself up. Don't interfere. Then, as if watching myself from the outside, I smashed his head against the rock, threw him down, and kicked him. I drew my gun. Sneaker put a warning hand on mine and, reluctantly, I let the gun drop back into its holster. Stepping on the pushy soul's face, I picked up the woman. Before I boosted her up to the top of the pile I said, “There is escape. That way, a trail into the mountains.”

  Her eye searched mine. I thought I saw a glimmer of hope similar to what I saw in Gregory's eyes. Sneaker pressed past me, and our eyes met. Oblivious to the misery around us, she stared at me. Accusing or supportive, I couldn't tell. Then the souls pressed in and pushed us on our way like a rising tide.

  Once you learn to ignore the individual souls, and see them solely as obstacles to get through, progress is quick. Pushing through souls is hard work; we switched the lead often. We hadn't spoken since I helped the woman.

  Sneaker was leading. About five feet ahead, she unexpectedly broke through to an area clear of souls. She cried out in surprise, otherwise I would have walked into the clearing right behind her. I froze, listened, and heard a familiar deep voice.

  “Grab her, bless you, or you'll freeze in Heaven!”

  Captain Boam and his monkey boy, Grizzle. Shit.

  I dropped to a crouch and retreated from the clearing. I checked my Find. Still two miles to the trail.

  “Come out, Getter,” Captain Boam yelled. “If you don't, I'll drop your beautiful friend Sneaker into the Abyss.”

  That was a lie. Captain Boam wouldn't throw away the chance to torture a Lifer. Nevertheless, Sneaker was in for a tough time if I didn't do something. I grabbed a soul and held it up as cover while I snuck a peek.

  A platoon of minions ranged along the open rock. The big red demon stood ten feet from the edge of the Abyss in the middle of a glowing orange spot. Steam came from his feet as he paced. He held a flamegun, and his tail twitched as if he had a snake up his ass. Sergeant Grizzle stood to his right, closer to the edge, with one of the hands he used as feet splayed across Sneaker's chest. Holding her hostage was one thing, but copping a feel, too, was a bit much. Besides there was no place else to go. I flicked off my gun's safety and stepped out of the soul pile.

  “Grizzle, you scamp,” I said. “Don't you be trying to feel up my girlfriend. I don't want to have to cut off one of your fingers.”

  The black tunnels of Captain Boam's eyes flared red, then settled into a steady orange glow like coals waiting for the barest breath of encouragement to burst into flame. His grip on his gun was a little awkward because of the missing finger, but the muzzle never wavered as it tracked my approach. The minions all had their small caliber flameguns pointed at me. Octoguards hovered in the background. Grizzle sat back on his squat hind legs. He kept one protruding eye on me while he nuzzled Sneaker's neck.

  “Hey, Griz, lay off her. She's already been nuzzled today.”

  “It stinks,” the Sergeant said as his upper lip turne
d up to cover his nose. His voice was too high-pitched for his size, and he slurred his words, as if he'd had too much to drink for too long. “Maybe the troops like it. Make it smell better for me.”

  “It always stinks like that,” I said. “Why don't you give it to me and I'll take it away.”

  “I'll take her,” Captain Boam said.

  Fitting action to word he grabbed Sneaker by the scruff of her neck. Grizzle reluctantly let her go. Captain Boam held her a foot off the ground and inspected her as if she were a stray kitten. And like a kitten, Sneaker lashed out at him. To no effect, as his arms were twice as long as hers.

  With mock admonishment the big demon said, “Sergeant Grizzle, she is quite beautiful.” He brought her close and sniffed her. “And her smell is not offensive.” To me he said, “What do you think, Getter? Maybe I'll keep her. Mephisto will be impressed if I have a Lifer wife.”

  I had a quick vision what life as his wife might be like. From the look on Sneaker's face, she did too. Her eyes caught mine. She slid her eyes to the left, indicating the Abyss, then nodded. She'd rather chance the Abyss than a nasty, and probably short, life as the lesser Mrs. Captain Boam. “Or,” he continued, “I could throw her into the Abyss.”

  The edge in that particular area was ragged rock. When I'd looked out from among the souls I noticed that right behind the two demons a thin point of rock overhung the edge. From my angle I saw a crack run almost through it. This is where Captain Boam stood and, with no visible effort, held Sneaker out over the long fall.

  The idea of Sneaker drifting forever, alone, in the Abyss, frightened me. I'd just begun to entertain thoughts of a more serious relationship than professional friends. She looked so helpless, dangling from the end of Captain Boam's musclebound, red leather arm. On a purely selfish level I wanted to rescue her so she would be impressed with me. After my little anxiety attack in the cavern, I needed to show her I could handle a situation. She was getting under my skin, and though she was as independent as a Hell Cop needs to be, I wanted her to need me. And need me she did at that point.

  My first thought was to blast him over the rim and deal with the surrounding minions and their flameguns after—except he'd take Sneaker with him. I kept my gun aimed at his chest. It was the only insurance I had.

  “So it's Captain Boam now is it?” I said, taking a step closer.

  “No thanks to you, Getter,” he said, turning his right hand to show me the missing finger. The grit in his voice made me wince.

  “Well you shouldn't have tried to cut my head off when I had a knife in my hand.”

  “That soul was mine.”

  “He didn't belong here, Captain. If it'll make you feel any better I had the Purgatory People check him out. He may have been a religious fanatic with a young wife and nine kids, but, despite what most people think, that doesn't automatically qualify him for eternal damnation.”

  I stood only twenty feet away and a little to the right of him. Unconsciously he had stepped back as far as he could on the jut of rock. He still held Sneaker by the neck, her feet dangling over the Abyss. She gripped his arm to take some of the weight off her neck. She wouldn't last much longer. Her eyes bulged and her mouth formed an O as she struggled to breathe. Octoguards crept closer from both sides. Their baseball eyes steady on the closest beings to the edge, Captain Boam and Sneaker.

  I stepped forward and to the right. The nearness of the Abyss and its Forever Fall raised my breathing rate. Why couldn't it be water or snakes? Those I could handle. I tried to ignore the gaping emptiness.

  “What's going on, Captain? It looked like an army marched through 73. Is there trouble in Hell?”

  “Trouble for you, Getter, when Mephisto gets hold of you. That was his daughter you killed in 29.”

  “Oh.” Oh shit.

  “After he takes over Hell from that wimp, Satan, he will have forever to make you pay.”

  Captain Boam grinned at the thought of Mephisto tormenting me. His lips rolled back, revealing double rows of red stained, black tipped teeth. A thick, black, forked tongue slithered out of his mouth and wiggled in my direction. “I'll be a Major, at least, when I deliver you to him,” he said, his eyes taking on an unfocused, orange glow.

  That was it. I couldn't wait. I hoped those Octoguards were alert.

  Sneaker's eyes caught mine. She knew it was time and accepted what I had to do.

  I rushed toward the edge. Sneaker pulled her feet up. I leveled my gun and fired at the spit of rock Boam stood on. Sparks and dust exploded. I fired again, expecting to burst into flame from the minions’ combined fire power. Captain Boam roared with surprise and pain. He fired at me. I dropped to the ground. The fireball passed over me and sent two minions sprawling. I curled on the ground, shot behind me twice, taking out three more of his soldiers. Other minions ran.

  I rolled to my feet. My right foot slipped over the edge. My heart stopped for an instant as I teetered over the Long Fall. Sneaker's choking cry cut through my fear. I shot the rock again. A scuffling noise came from behind me. A Sergeant minion looking to be a hero came at me fast. I twisted and struck out with my staff. His hooves went out from under him. I smacked his hairy head with my gun, and he went limp. I dropped to a crouch, expecting an attack by Captain Boam.

  He wasn't there. And neither was Sneaker. Grizzle ignored me and stared slackjawed at where the rock outcropping used to be.

  As I approached the edge, the bulbous rear ends of the Octoguards inched up over the edge. The closest one to me had Sneaker securely wrapped in two long tentacles. The other one struggled.

  Once Sneaker was safe, I quickly went to the second Octoguard and, not without some guilt, cut the one tentacle that stretched taut. It parted with a dull snap. I hardened my mind against Captain Boam's faint cry.

  “I'm sorry,” I said to the whimpering Guard as it nursed its wounded tentacle. I included Boam in that apology, too.

  Sneaker knelt with her head down and sucked in deep breaths. Her rescuer sidled away as I came near, its tentacles doing a nervous dance. It apprehensively watched me reload the gun.

  “I'm sorry,” I said again. It hesitated, then backed away to join its partner, and they disappeared over the edge.

  “Are you all right?” I asked Sneaker.

  She looked at me and forced a grin. “It's a good thing I have an extra set of underwear.” She blew out a big breath. “Yeah, I'm fine. Let's get out of here before Grizzle figures out what happened.”

  The Sergeant held a gun in his gorilla hand. He didn't seem to know what to do with it. He was used to following orders, not giving them. The immediate area of the canyon came back to life: Supervisors yelled, minions chittered, souls screamed. A Hound howled far off in the distance. Flames from newly stoked fires peeked over the edge.

  I helped Sneaker to her feet and turned my gun on Grizzle. He stood between us and the direction we needed to go. He held his flamegun on us, and his eyes narrowed as if calculating odds. We went toward him.

  “Free at last, Griz,” I said. “Don't blow it by thinking of being a hero.”

  “You sent Captain Boam into the Abyss?” he said, still not comprehending.

  “Hey, I'm sorry, man, but it was either him or Sneaker and though you don't think so, she's better looking and a lot more fun in bed.”

  Sneak poked me in the ribs. “How do you know I'm better?”

  “My secret. You need your gun back.”

  Grizzle had her gun stuck in his bandolier. She circled behind him and carefully retrieved it. Grizzle let it happen. I felt a little sorry for the creature. He knew what his duty was, yet couldn't seem to act on it without orders. The confusion, frustration, and uncertainty were all plain on his simian face.

  “It wasn't your fault, Griz,” I told him.

  Then Sneaker and I took off up the canyon.

  We kept our own thoughts as we ran along the open area of the upper level. I ignored the screams of the Damned Souls as well as Captain Boam's cry that kept ec
hoing in my head. I hated the idea of anybody plunging into the Abyss.

  Sneaker ran easily next to me, barely limping, intent on running, expression unreadable. I had a sudden sickening, tight feeling in my chest that I would willingly take the Long Fall for her. With that realization, and despite my attraction and growing affection, I think I hated her a little for making me feel that way. I suppose, deep down, all love has a small component of hate, or at least resentment, at the control a person gives up when they love somebody. No matter how willingly it's given. They were strange feelings, the love and the hate; I'd felt so little for so long.

  The confusion in my thoughts made the time fly.

  We ran hard for the first mile, then slowed to an easy jog when Sneaker's ankle acted up. At a mile and a half I took out my Find, and we followed its directions to an exit that led to the fire level. We continued like before, stopping, checking for Supervisors or grunt minions and running quietly past cave openings. Nothing bothered us. We saw nothing unusual. The going was easy, the trail over the mountains to the Schoolyard was only a quarter mile farther on. Piece of cake.

  As we crossed the fifth set of tracks, I looked toward the fires. Two Supervisors stood with their backs to us. They weren't cursing or kicking or whipping at anything. I thought they were working very hard not to look over their shoulders.

  We kept on. As we approached the next mine tunnel entrance Sneaker had the same thought I did.

  “Getter,” she whispered as she stopped and pressed against the black dust coated wall.

  “Yeah, I know,” I said.

  We crouched inside the tunnel mouth and scanned the area.

  “What do you think?” Sneaker asked me.

  “I don't know. Too easy. It could be luck.”

  “Sure it could. No sign of pursuit.”

  “Short attention spans.”

  “There was a Hound. Where is it?”

  “Lost us when we came down here,” I said, not believing it either.