Canto 8: No Man’s Land

Marcus awoke to chaos and sulfur. A mile-long plain of hardened magma extended before him with lava geysers erupting at random. Above, black clouds delivered lightning bolts with unnatural frequency. At the end of the plain, a metallic skyscraper burst through the clouds, with golden light from above trickling down its facades. Its base was enclosed by a shining white gate with marble pillars.

Dozens of individuals in dark green and camouflage military uniforms raced madly towards the gates with arms tied at their backs and mouths stitched shut. Most only managed a few dozen yards before perishing by lightning strike or incineration.

“Welcome to No Man’s Land,” Dante said, standing in front of the portal to the swamp. “Home to modern history’s greatest war criminals and weapons manufacturers.”

“Is that it?” He asked, eyeing the white gates. “Is that Heaven?”

“Indeed it is. I told you we’d make it!”

He started forward but Dante held him back. “Hold on, this is Hell’s most dangerous canto, Judas or not. Stay close…and beware the Furies.”

#

Carefully, they zigzagged through No Man’s Land avoiding geysers. Halfway across, red dots appeared in the sky, though they were too far off for Marcus to discern.

A stern-faced general sprinted past them. They watched him expertly spin past an erupting geyser like he had made this trek a thousand times.

With his head tilted skyward, he halted on a dime and rolled backwards, barely dodging a bolt of lightning. He rose confidently and was impaled through the knee by a pitchfork.

A red dot drew closer and expanded into a child-sized horned demon with sharp fingernails and miniscule wings.

“Is that a…Fury?” Marcus asked.

“Aren’t they adorable?”

The Fury plucked his pitchfork from the general and, with a demonic giggle, drove it through his throat.

“Christ!” It twisted to Marcus, smiled, and chucked the weapon at him. “Dante!”

The pitchfork was inches from Marcus’s skull when Dante caught it. He tossed it in a nearby geyser and the Fury followed it down, self-incinerating in the process.

“Thank you,” Marcus took a deep breath. He eyed the general’s corpse dissipate to dust. “So, all these people fought against the revolutionaries?”

“In one way or another, yes, although they were rarely required to bloody their own hands. You see, when revolution began, the majority of soldiers refused to take part in the massacre and thus revolutionary forces outnumbered the military thirty to one. Historically speaking, the outcomes of wars were predictable by the size of opposing armies. But in modern warfare, cake goes to the side with the sharpest knives! Thanks to the ever-booming military-industrial complex, advances in artificial intelligence, and surplus funding from corporations and wealthy donors, war manufacturers had everything they needed to mass-produce autonomous military drones. Generals who were either bought out or desperate to maintain authority coordinated drone strikes around the world. Even with their numbers, the revolutionaries never stood a chance. They were crushed into submission in under a year. But in No Man’s Land, those war pigs now face unbeatable opponents of their own.”

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Marcus halted.

“Wait,” he began. “But the revolutionaries won the war.”

“Oh, Marcus, I don’t believe I said that.”

Chills ran down his spine as he retraced their conversations, realizing he had only assumed the revolutionaries’ victory given what he’d seen. Dante never said it himself. The obvious question fell from his lips.

“If the revolutionaries lost the war…then what are their enemies doing in Hell?”

The lava rock began to shake.

“No, Judas, not now!” Marcus exclaimed. Beside him, Dante shifted in and out of existence.

“Listen, Marcus,” he insisted. “Everything will be explained. You only need make it to the gates. From there, it’s a straight shot to…”

He vanished.

“Dante!”

Far behind, the edge of No Man’s Land started to crumble, cascading down into black nothingness. The parting line curved in a half-elliptical shape and moved his direction, pulling molten rock, humans, active geysers, and the portal back into its depths.

Marcus hyperventilated, perplexed by Dante’s final words and too frightened to press forward without him. No Dante meant no resurrection. If he died now, it could be for good.

A frenzied crowd was pushed to the ellipse’s center, taken out one-by-one by lava, lightning, and pitchforks as they tried to escape the advancing abyss. A few were tripped and trampled before plunging into darkness.

Marcus eyed the skyscraper where he could make out the teal-leaves of olive trees rising over the pearly gates.

Barbara, he thought. Whatever else was true, there was still the hope he could reach her. I’ve come this far, dammit. I’m not stopping with the finish line in sight.

With the ellipse line approaching, Marcus rushed to the center and joined the crowd.

Judas brought all to bear in this final onslaught. Lightning clouds condensed above and struck every few seconds. Furies formed lines and swooped down, skewering victims as if spearfishing. Geysers burst to new heights, showering multiple military uniforms at once.

Somehow, as the crowd dwindled, Marcus survived. He sprinted recklessly, gaze fixed on the white gates only a few yards ahead. Behind him, the abyss line had nearly caught up.

Suddenly, two geysers burst ahead with barely enough space to pass between. Marcus locked eyes with the last remainder of the crowd, a distressed woman with red hair.

She dashed forward, trying to beat him past the geysers. Marcus eyed the abyss line, realizing if he slowed down for even a moment he wouldn’t make it.

Instinctively, he lowered a shoulder and rammed the woman forward into the geyser where she burnt to a crisp. Marcus pressed onward, unphased by his decision. All that mattered were those gates, and they were nearly in reach.

I…I’m going to make it. Holy shit, I’m going to make it!

A small geyser erupted under his right leg, charring it to bone.

“Ah!” he collapsed forward but continued, hopping one-legged.

A sharp pain suddenly coursed through. He looked down to find a bright red pitchfork piercing from his back through his gut. Somewhere behind, a Fury giggled.

Still, Marcus wouldn’t give in. He crawled forward, blood pouring onto hardened magma. The abyss line crept up to him and stopped.

With his last ounce of energy, he reached the gate and pounded on its pearly façade.

They swung open and a red-sleeved arm grabbed Marcus’s collar. Despite the torment endured, Marcus retained blurry semi-consciousness as he was dragged across an arid garden of olive trees towards the skyscraper.

“Dante?” he managed.

No response.

“Heal…me” With shaking hands he touched the pitchfork stuck in his back.

“Not yet, Marcus,” the reply finally came. “We are nearly there.”

Marcus collapsed backwards, hazily eyeing his surroundings.

Something drooped unnaturally from a branch on the olive tree nearest him. Marcus squinted until the object became clear. It was the lifeless body of a woman hanging on a noose. A woman in a wedding gown with blonde hair and green eyes.

“Barbara?”

Suddenly, Barbara’s mouth animated while the rest of her remained corpselike.

“What have you done, Marcus?” Her quivering voice rose to a scream. “What have you done?!”

The question pounded at Marcus’s ears until the skyscraper entrance shut behind them.