5

Our desperate, dehumanized procession continues into the depths of Hell. Kemal catches up a few miles (or a few dozen?) later. His lower half is covered in dried blood, but his torso is intact once again. He keeps his distance and watches us warily. All it would take is for someone to trip or make a sudden movement, and he’d be ready to flee. I don’t think he’d get far.

An eternity (a word I’m slowly starting to understand) has passed when the devil again stops by and asks blithely if we’d like a bite to eat.

I’m starving—as much I can say that when I cannot starve—but human flesh does not entice me. The damned around me remain silent. Perhaps out of shame or fear. A few of them turn their gazes to Kemal. Although he’s too far away, he still senses what they’re talking about. He slowly backs away. Perhaps he’d rather face a swarm of insects than another dismemberment.

“Aren’t you hungry?” the devil asks in amazement. “By your time, a week has passed since your last feeding.”

I’ve long suspected I haven’t been perceiving time here realistically, yet this news still feels like a blow to the head.

He points a finger straight at me: “What about you, dude?”

I’m paralyzed. Like a mouse stared down by a snake. My feet feel rooted to the rock.

No! I convince myself. He’s definitely pointing at somebody else! I just think he’s pointing at me!

He moves closer, the tip of his tail playfully wagging. My sphincter loosens—but with nothing left inside me, all I release is a long, piercing hiss.

He stops a few inches from me. The beads on his neck turn out to be fingers and human teeth. I’m six feet tall, so we look each other in the eye. His eyes are unnaturally bright; I feel like they are pulsing. He reviews me like a gourmet eyeing an Argentine sirloin.

“So, how about something juicy?” he taunts me with his ironic smile. His breath smells terrible. Then his index finger prods me in the belly. “I can hear your stomach from across a football field.” He leans in until our noses are almost touching. “I’ll show you a trick, okay?”

I expect him to disgorge me. However, he reaches behind my ear, and a cigarette appears in his hand. He hangs it in the corner of his mouth and snaps his fingers. It lights.

“Good, isn’t it?” He blows smoke in my face.

At that moment, an old man bursts from our group. He crashes into the wall and screams. The devil reaches behind my ear again, this time pulling out a large switchblade. He tosses it to the bruiser. “Butcher him,” he says with his gaze still fixed on me.

This time my companions react a bit faster. They crowd around the old man like wolves who’ve felled an elk. In the firelight, I see only their sagging buttocks and bent backs.

But the devil still gazes into my eyes. “Something about you doesn’t fit, kid,” he finally says, patting me on the face. “But don’t worry, I’ll figure it out.”

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Finally, he leaves, and my legs weaken with relief. I collapse to my knees on the sharp gravel, my limbs feeling heavy as concrete. I’m terribly tired.

This time fewer of us don’t partake in the feast. The blonde is standing a short way from me. She seems to be considering helping me back to my feet. I slowly shake my head. She sits on a boulder, curled up in a fetal position.

“What’s your name?” I ask.

“Andrea.”

“I’m Mike.”

I see Kemal, watching from a safe distance. As soon as he realizes he’s not on the menu tonight, he hesitantly approaches. The devil urges him to join in.

Kemal finally squeezes in among the damned. After the feast, the old man peels himself away from the rock, huddles into a ball, and waits for the remains of his innards and his body to be mended. The others awkwardly look away. I guess they feel embarrassed, what with their bellies being full of his flesh.

“So friends, let’s go,” the devil bellows at us. “We have all the time in the world, but why waste it, huh?”

I wonder where that switchblade is. But the tattooed man has empty hands.

As I try to rise, I fall on my side. I feel like a rusted machine left out in the yard all winter. I only manage to rise on the second try. Andrea’s not much better off; we’re like infants learning to walk.

On the other hand, the old folks, who should be faring much worse, are lively as they jump up. Maybe human meat gives them energy. Maybe it gives them much more than they’d get in the world of the living.

We broadly skirt the roaring furnace and slowly descend into Hell. An hour (or a year, I wouldn’t know) past our last feeding, we come upon a crevice.

A rock overhang rises above us. It’s cracked, and lava is flowing from the split, creating a curtain of scorching ropes. It can’t be circumvented.

“So, who will lead the way?” asks the devil with amused twinkling eyes. “Perhaps the lawyer?”

An old man wildly shakes his head and tries to squeeze in among the others.

“You’d still have to face it,” the Devil explains. “The quicker you get it over with, the less damage there will be. Better put your hands above your head. You’ll lose them, but if you’re quick enough, it won’t burn through your skull. I won’t lie, it hurts like hell.”

And now we stand in a new huddle. This time not even the thousands of beetles approaching inexorably in a black glossy wave will budge us. I expect that at any moment, someone will ignore the beetles and run back, pulling the others with them.

Suddenly, a growl echoes from the shadows behind us. The devil stands before us with his arms akimbo, smugly smiling. We turn in terror.

Another growl.

Three pairs of gleaming eyes appear in the fiery glow. Three jagged maws. One head after another pulls back its lips, baring long fangs. All belong to one body.

Cerberus? Are you kidding? I have to wake up from this!

The mythical monster is pressin us toward the fiery waterfall. And our devil’s veered off the path with giddy excitement.

Cerberus is now within reach, as big as a calf. His central head stretches forward and licks the nearest buttocks. Then it bites into them, yanking a naked man out from the crowd. The three-headed dog shoves the man under himself, with each head vying for the biggest piece. The man screams until he’s hoarse; then there’s only the soft tearing and cracking of bones.

Our heavyweight is the first to regain his senses. He grabs the startled bishop by the legs and throws the man over his shoulder. Shielded by this body, he passes through the lava shower.

“Bravo!” the devil claps.

The heat of the molten rock sears my eyes as I watch two men collapse on the other side of the ropes. The bishop writhes and screams.

Others try to imitate the muscle-man; a brawl breaks out. Two thrashing bodies splash into the fiery waterfall. A man tries crawling, but his legs remain on our side, quickly ignited by the subcutaneous fat.

The devil roars with laughter and slaps his thighs.

The dog joins in the fight. Its heads snap at the thrashing bodies.

Andrea shoves me from behind and struggles against an old man. I hold onto her, trying to push the eighty-year-old away. But old bones can work wonders. The man not only stands like a rock, but even smacks me with a punch.

The sanity I’ve clung to so fiercely now slips away. Three blows rain down on the man’s face in quick succession.

I’ve finally lost my mind! I scream inside with a sense of vindication.

What other explanation could there be for the atrocity I’m about to commit?

I cover Andrea with my body and charge toward the wall of fire.