by Alex Siegel
"And you can't see him? I thought Heaven and Hell kept a close eye on Earth."
"We do, and we still can't see him. It is baffling."
"But why do you need me?" Virgil said. "Can't you just send a bunch of angels and demons to Earth, not that I'm complaining, sir. I want to do the job."
"The Contract strictly limits supernatural interventions." Mammon glanced at the long rows of books. "Regular angels and demons can't spend days searching Chicago. Earth is reserved for humans, and so we must send humans to perform this task."
Virgil straightened up. "I'm ready to go immediately. Wait, how does this work? Are you going to raise my old body from the dead?"
Mammon smirked. "Your old body is nothing but dust. No, we have something much better planned for you. You will return to Earth as a proper emissary from Hell. You'll have the soul of a man, but the strength and endurance of a demon. You'll be a warrior fit to represent the dark princes. Let's go."
"To Earth?"
"To the Seventh Circle. The Plains of Fire."
The demon clapped its giant hands together.
* * *
"Another drink, ma'am?"
Sara looked up from her beach chair. An angel in a white dress was standing on the golden sand. The angel's beautiful white wings blocked the intense sunlight. Its eyes were white orbs set in an adorable face. It was holding a glass of white liquid.
Sara took the glass. "What does it taste like this time?"
"A strawberry margarita."
"But non-alcoholic."
"Of course." The angel smiled charmingly.
"Thanks. I'm sure it will be delicious."
The angel trotted off across the sand.
Sara sipped her drink, and it was indeed a delicious approximation of a strawberry margarita. That was an impressive achievement considering the angel who had prepared the drink had never tasted a real one.
She looked around the vast beach. Millions of souls were enjoying the perpetually fine weather in the First Level of Heaven. Some were playing volleyball, building sand castles, or talking in groups, but most people were just relaxing. There wasn't much to do except hang out and waste time.
Thinking about it made Sara a little resentful. The residents of the First Level had barely made it into Heaven and couldn't enjoy the exquisite pleasures the higher levels had to offer. They were stuck in a mildly pleasant beach vacation which never ended. Sara had been an exceptionally active woman in life, and she didn't appreciate the dull pointlessness of her afterlife.
Angels began to appear in the sky. There were dozens at first, then hundreds, then thousands. A great cloud of angels swirled around like a white hurricane. All the people on the beach were staring up at the unique spectacle.
A single angel separated from the others and descended. It was dressed in flowing robes decorated with white flowers. Its wings were great, sweeping arches which stretched a hundred feet from tip to tip. A white nimbus surrounded the heavenly being.
With a start, Sara realized the angel was coming straight towards her. She quickly stood up from her beach chair and finished off her drink.
The angel touched down lightly on the sand. A supremely beautiful face made Sara want to cry with joy.
"I am Barachiel, chief of the guardian angels. You are Sara Bass?"
Sara nodded. "What can I do for you?"
"The Lords of Hell screwed up and allowed an evil soul to escape to Earth. Now we have to clean up their mess."
"Oh. Sounds awful. What do you want me to do?"
"Go back to Earth as part of a search team," Barachiel said. "The soul belongs to a serial killer, and he has started to kill again. It's a uniquely important assignment."
"I guess you know my background. I was a medical examiner for many years."
"We picked you because of your background."
"We?" Sara said.
"The Council of Light."
The enormous magnitude of the situation was dawning on Sara. Of all the many millions of souls in Heaven, the Council had chosen her to return to Earth.
"Does this kind of thing happen often?"
"It has never happened before," Barachiel said. "This search team concept is completely new. It might be a disaster, but we don't have any other options. Regular angels aren't suited for something like this. Hell is sending its own representatives. Try to be polite even if they smell bad."
Sara wrinkled her nose.
"And of course, you can come back to Heaven any time you want," Barachiel added. "If the job proves too much for you, we can find a replacement."
"I'm sure that won't be necessary." Sara was looking forward to doing something useful again. "But how did this happen? I didn't think it was possible to escape from Hell."
Barachiel shrugged its beautiful shoulders. "I'm sure incompetence was the cause. Demons are so consumed by sinful thoughts they can't think clearly. Regardless, it's a big mess now. With all the bickering and accusations, you would think the Apocalypse had arrived."
Sara doubted the explanation was so simple. If demons were anything like the angels she had met, they were absolutely committed to their jobs. They had no interest in anything else.
"But even though the matter is very serious," Barachiel said, "you should keep a low profile on Earth. Avoid attracting attention. What you do down there reflects on Heaven and could have far-reaching consequences. Put your arms around me."
Sara grasped the angel around the waist. They lifted off the ground together, released from gravity.
"Where are we going?" Sara said.
"To make you a new body. You must represent the might of Heaven properly. We will turn you into a fearsome but righteous warrior."
Barachiel flew straight upwards.
* * *
The Plain of Fire was aptly named. The vast desert stretched to the horizon in all directions. Sands glowed with heat, and fire rained constantly from a burning sky. There were forests of dead, thorny trees. Rivers of boiling blood cut through the brutal landscape. The odor was foul beyond words.
Mammon was holding Virgil like a baby so his feet wouldn't touch the ground. Mammon's enormous wings shielded Virgil from the rain. Being so close to the demon made Virgil gag from the stench, but it was better than being roasted.
As Mammon trudged across the Plain, Virgil looked at the poor souls trapped there. Some were swimming in the rivers, and demons used pitchforks to keep those souls from escaping. Others slogged across the burning sands, whipped by demons to keep them constantly moving. The only sounds were screams and moans of agony. Virgil's office in Limbo was looking pretty good in comparison.
Mammon reached a muddy river bank and set Virgil down. The mud was painfully hot, but at least it wasn't on fire. Virgil hopped from foot to foot to minimize contact. Mammon's wings continued to shield him from the rain.
"This is Ptah," Mammon said. "It will make your new body."
Virgil looked at a demon standing ankle deep in the mud. Ptah was relatively small, and its limbs were twisted into knots, but it had impressive muscles. It was wearing a leather apron instead of the usual black suit favored by demons.
Ptah bowed to Mammon. "It's a great honor, sir." Ptah turned to Virgil. "Anything in particular you want?"
"I get to choose my body?"
"Sure, as long as it's not too showy. You have to keep a very low profile on Earth."
Ptah began to scoop up mud and mold it like a sculptor.
"Why?" Virgil said.
"You're going as an official representative of Hell," Mammon said. "That means anything you do counts against our budget."
"Hell has a budget?"
"The Celestial Contract strictly limits divine and infernal influence in human affairs. It's one of the basic precepts. I suppose the point is to keep things fair, but the balance always seems to tilt towards Heaven's advantage in the end. Regardless, you need to focus on the mission while on Earth. Just do your job. Don't try to be a superhero or make yourself famous.
Don't tell mortals the truth about yourself. Understand?"
Virgil nodded. "Yes, sir."
Ptah's sculpture was already looking like a human body. The demon was remarkably quick and precise despite its hideous deformities.
"Let's start by recreating my original body," Virgil said.
Ptah nodded.
The demon took just a few minutes to finish the work. Somehow, it even got the hair and skin color right.
In life, Virgil had been muscular but not like a body builder. He was just under six feet tall. Wavy brown hair and a smoldering gaze had always fascinated women. A small amount of Native American ancestry colored his skin, but he was mostly white.
He pointed at his new penis. "Will that thing work?"
"Of course," Mammon said. "The carnal sins are a favorite of Hell."
"What if I get a woman pregnant?"
Mammon smirked. "It won't work that well. The penis is just for show."
"Can I catch a disease?"
"You'll be made of Hell mud, not flesh, so no."
Virgil grinned. "Do I have to worry about anything?"
"I would stay away from exorcisms, and holy water would certainly be a problem. I don't have a clear answer, actually. We've never tried to wrap a human soul in demonic flesh before. You may even discover you have unusual powers on Earth."
"This Daniel Shipman guy must be a very bad dude if you're going to all this trouble."
"Yes." Mammon nodded. "But it's not just him. His escape was physically impossible. We have to understand what happened and make sure it never happens again."
Virgil turned back to his new body. "Can you add more muscle and trim away a bit of the fat? Make me look younger too. Smooth out the wrinkles. And the penis could be a little thicker."
Ptah looked to Mammon, and the big demon nodded.
"Sure," Ptah said.
After another few minutes of work, the body finally appeared ready. Virgil moved towards it hesitantly, unsure about what to do. Mammon simply picked him up and shoved him through an ear hole. After a painful squeeze, Virgil popped inside.
He quickly took control of his new form. He moved around, and his body instantly responded to his will. His eyesight and hearing were outstanding, but his other senses were dulled. He didn't seem to have a sense of smell at all, a good thing under the circumstances. The burning sands also didn't bother him anymore.
"You're ready to begin your assignment," Mammon said. "Let's go upstairs." It clapped its hands.
Virgil found himself in an underground tunnel lit by pools of lava, but the scorching heat didn't affect him. The walls were rough basalt. A low ceiling forced Mammon to squat down.
A woman was in the tunnel, and she was stunning. She had well defined muscles and long limbs. Her skin was the color of dark chocolate, and her hair was the same color as the basalt. She had an aggressive stance despite her total nudity. He couldn't help but stare.
"Hey!" she said. "Look at my face, not my boobs."
Mammon chuckled, and it sounded like a volcano rumbling. "This is your new partner. Lisa Reeves, meet Virgil Wheeler."
They shook hands, and Virgil discovered Lisa had a strong grip.
"What's your background?" he said.
"I was a Chicago cop," she said.
"I was a U.S. Marshal."
"A fed, eh?"
"You two can get acquainted later." Mammon snapped its fat fingers and two items appeared on the floor. "You'll need these."
Virgil picked up a heavy leather bag and looked inside. It was stuffed with gold coins marked with medieval crests. The other item was a sheet of parchment covered with English text. Virgil scanned the writing and saw it was notes about Daniel Shipman's background and habits.
"What's the gold for?" Virgil said.
"To buy things on Earth, of course," Mammon said. "Get going. It's a long climb." The demon pointed at the end of the tunnel where a stone staircase went up. "You'll meet the rest of your team at the Red Rose Pub in downtown Chicago. I was told their names are Sara and Alfred."
"Yes, sir. Lisa, let's go."
Virgil and Lisa walked over to the staircase, avoiding the pools of lava. The stairs were cut into the bedrock. They went up a long, steeply sloped tunnel lit by infrequent torches.
The two of them began to climb with Lisa in the lead. Virgil didn't mind following a beautiful, naked woman. The view from the back was as nice as the view from the front.
"You were a cop?" he said.
She nodded. "Fifteen years in some of the worst neighborhoods of Chicago."
"Sounds rough."
"I got raped twice, but I put the perps behind bars both times." She stuck out her chin. "I handle my own business, and don't you forget it. I'm a third degree black belt in Tae Kwon Do."
Virgil wondered if he still had all his skills from his life on Earth. His memories of that time were crystal clear. Nothing was ever forgiven or forgotten in Hell.
"How did you end up in Hell?"
"My police work was too aggressive," Lisa said. "I had too much blood on my hands."
"I had the same problem. I specialized in chasing down dangerous fugitives, and too many times, they ended up dead."
"Sounds like you're my kind of guy." She looked over her shoulder and smiled at him.
"I'm sure it will be a pleasure working with you."
"I just hope the job takes a while. I don't want to go back to Limbo anytime soon."
"Yeah," Virgil said. "Let's not rush things."
"Mammon won't like it if we waste time on purpose."
"We'll have to find the right balance. We also can't forget we're trying to stop a serial killer."
They continued to climb at a vigorous pace, but Virgil didn't get tired. Even the heavy bag of gold didn't slow him down. His new body seemed to have limitless endurance.
They finally came to an iron hatch. Strange symbols were etched into the surface. It took both Virgil and Lisa working together to push it open. Rusty hinges screamed in protest.
They climbed up into a basement with concrete walls. Water stains marked the walls, and pools of stagnant water were on the dirty floor. Mold had grown in spots. After the fires of Hell, the air felt chilly, but Virgil knew the temperature was normal.
He realized the two of them were still naked. "We need clothes," he said. "We can't walk the streets of Chicago in our birthday suits."
Lisa nodded and looked around. She pointed through an open doorway. "Looks like Mammon thought about that."
Virgil closed the gate to Hell. Then he walked into a narrow hallway where the bodies of two vagrants were lying on the floor. They had knives in their hands, and judging by the spilled blood, it appeared both men had lost the fight.
Virgil couldn't afford to be picky. He stripped the clothes off the bodies and handed the smaller outfit to Lisa.
He put on his own clothes. The pants were baggy, the shirt was too tight, and brown marks were disgusting. He was glad he couldn't smell himself. He hoped the blood stains wouldn't attract too much attention.
Lisa looked like a bum in an orange sweater and torn jeans. He could see her toes through holes in her shoes.
"Not an elegant way to make our grand return to Earth," Virgil said.
She shrugged. "We'll spend some of that gold on new clothes when we get a chance. Let's move."
They seemed to be in a system of service tunnels beneath the city. After wandering for quite a while, they finally found a stairway to the surface. They emerged into downtown Chicago.
After thirty years below, Virgil was expecting flying cars and robots like in a science fiction movie. He was disappointed. Cars still rolled on rubber wheels, and traffic still clogged the streets. He didn't see any clanking metal monsters or levitating buildings. Bums still sat on the sidewalks and begged for spare change just like in his day. Car horns and police sirens played a familiar tune.
He did see subtle differences though. The cars were generally smaller, rounder, and shinier
. Men's hair was shorter, and women's hair was less puffy. Fashion was more subdued in general.
"The skyline has changed," Lisa said. "More big buildings. My old favorites like the Sears Tower are still here though."
A lot of people were carrying small electronic devices. The gadgets held their attention to the point where the people weren't always looking where they were going. Virgil wondered what the devices were for, but solving that mystery wasn't urgent.
"No obvious danger," Virgil said. "I think we'll be OK."
Lisa nodded.
He asked a nearby woman who was walking past, "What is the date?"
She sniffed, turned away, and walked a little quicker. Virgil wasn't too surprised. He looked like he had just crawled out of a dumpster and probably smelled like it too. He kept asking random strangers.
A man wearing jeans and a T-shirt finally took pity and told Virgil it was Monday, September 10. That answer surprised Virgil a little. The weather was warm and humid enough to be July or August. The man also provided directions to the Red Rose Pub.
Virgil and Lisa began to walk.
He kept looking up. He hadn't seen a blue sky in three decades, and the sight was delightful. In life, he had never appreciated the subtle pleasures Earth offered, but now he certainly did. The people were so interesting and varied. Vibrant activity surrounded him. In Limbo, nothing mattered anymore. On Earth, the balance between good and evil was constantly swinging one way or the other. A single word could change the destiny of a human soul. People could learn and grow. It was exciting!
"How do you feel?" Virgil asked.
"Great," Lisa said. "This body is working like a finely tuned machine. I bet I could climb the side of a building."
"I wonder if Shipman has a body like ours."
"We'll find out."
"Mammon mentioned the possibility of unusual powers," Virgil said.
"I don't feel like I can do anything very special, but we just got here. Maybe we'll discover our powers as we go."
They found the Red Rose Pub. It was on the first floor of a brick building, and the frames of the windows and doors were painted red. Plate glass windows showed a dimly lit interior.