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Dude, we gotta talk.

Dude, we gotta talk.

6

In the grip of my hands, Andrea screams in pain. She thrashes; I cannot hold her. She slips from my grasp and crashes onto the bodies piled on the other side.

I stand above them, quaking. Screaming people crawl around me. Their wounds are horrifying. Molten rock burns through their bodies. Sparks spread around the scorched holes, consuming fat. White bones poke through charred skin. The strongman stares in disbelief at the stumps of his hands.

I bend down to Andrea. I’ve shielded her as best I can, but her thighs are like a strainer, and her shoulder is gnawed through to the joint. I at least smother her hair with my palms. She thrashes and doesn’t notice me.

I stand over her, helplessly bent with outstretched arms. I can’t help her in any way.

I slowly straighten again. I’m useless here. The roar from dozens of throats fills the space, penetrates me, devours me. Soon it will drive me crazy.

I step away from the mangled creatures—and realize I’m unharmed.

When the magma hit me, I did feel heat, but I know a body can absorb an initial shock without immediate pain. I expected it to come later, but I’m still unscathed. I keep checking myself to confirm.

Below the flowing lava stands the devil, absentmindedly combing his curly locks like in a shampoo ad. Droplets of lava reflect off his body in radiant sprays, flowing down his penis. The devil crosses his arms and stands there, watching me with a smirk: “Dude, we gotta talk.”

He walks around the writhing mass of bodies and up to me, examining my face with renewed interest.

“What’s going on here?”

Is he serious?!

“I haven’t got a clue,” I shrug.

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He chuckles and pats me on the shoulder. “Come on away from the noise.”

He leads me on down the path.

“They’ll be putting things back together for a while. Besides, we have to wait for the ones torn apart by the dog. They need to reassemble before they can cross.” He looks back at me. “So, what can you tell me about yourself?”

I shrug once more: “Well, I think I’m here by mistake.”

That elicits another laugh. Our guide is quite the joker.

“Dude, everyone says that.”

I watch the screaming people for a moment, hesitantly. “I haven’t killed anyone,” I finally offer.

“That’s not a requirement. Michael Jackson didn’t kill anyone either.”

“Is he here?”

“Yeah, he’s the boss’s favorite pet.”

“Where are you taking us?” I try to exploit his unexpected openness.

“To the Bottom. The judge will pronounce his sentence on you there.” He’s suddenly turned serious. “Hey. By any chance, did the boss send you here to check up on me?”

“Satan?”

“I don’t understand why he’d want to check, but you never know with him.”

Right that moment, in the darkness behind him, a flickering gleam catches my attention.

“I like my job,” the devil keeps talking. “So I don’t know why… hey, where are you going?”

I stop paying attention to him. I walk toward the wall, completely enchanted. If this is what I think it is…

I peripherally sense the devil watching me. He probably hasn’t had a damned soul ignore his monologue before.

I halt at the black wall.

A stream of clear water gushes from a crack.

I touch it with my fingers. It’s real! I press my lips to the rock and drink. The cool moisture flows into my body, and my parched insides sing with joy. I swallow and swallow. I kiss the rock and feel like I’ll burst with happiness any moment. When I can’t drink anymore, I rub my face on the wet rock and laugh like an idiot.

Finally, I tear myself away. The water snakes across the path and finds its way between rocks. Upon reaching the devil’s Crocs, it vaporizes with a hiss.

“I’ve never seen water here,” he says in an unusually hollow voice. “Maybe they really did mess up.”

“Can I go back?” I cling to that hope.

He looks at me in surprise, and the amused glints return to his eyes.

“I don’t make that call, buddy. Besides, you’re dead, where do you want to go back to?” He gives me a fatherly shoulder hug. He’s smiling again. “We’ll visit the Bottom together. It’s still not clear where the mistake is. Either you really are here by accident—which isn’t likely—or you should be here, but something went wrong on your way in, and you don’t feel anything. In that case, it’ll be a simple fix—and we’ll have fun together for a long, long time.”

My mind’s eye again sees the burning car, like a fireball. How I’m bouncing off it and hurtling toward the pillar of the overpass.

“Has anyone ever been here by accident?”

“Friend, I’ve been doing this job for two thousand years, and I’ve never heard of anything like it.”