8

We’re approaching the Bottom. The heat grows more intense and the path more treacherous with every step. Pebbles have given way to jagged rocks. My companions’ feet are in ruins. Cerberus is trailing us in the distance, surrounded by a black pack.

But the worst part is the regular feedings. To my knowledge, no one has been called twice. Only four people have yet to partake in the feast. Including myself and Andrea. And we four are the weakest. We stagger and barely lift our feet, while the octogenarians leap over rocks like mountain goats. Drinking from the stream has quenched not only my thirst, but also my hunger. Andrea, though—her eyes are glazed over with the madness of starvation.

She watches spellbound as the man-wolves of this human pack rip apart its very youngest member. As they drop one by one with full bellies, she takes a hesitant step toward the boy.

I block her path. She hungrily peers over my shoulder. I hold her firmly; I won’t release her.

“Let me go,” she whispers shakily. “I’ll only take a piece.”

“Next time it would be your turn,” I whisper into her hair.

She struggles a moment, but eventually goes limp in my arms. She’s not as emaciated as she should be after such starvation, but she is as weak as a kitten.

A little later, the devil drives us back onto the path.

“That goes for you too, lovebirds,” he says, looking at us.

The youth has reassembled, yet I still release Andrea cautiously, as if afraid she might still bite him. Eventually, she pushes me away in anger, as if her hunger were my fault.

“Chicks,” the devil shrugs. “What can you do?”

He matches my pace. He’s been quite talkative of late. I’ve learned we all died in the same time, but we came from different places. Among us are an Egyptian who committed very nasty acts under the ISIS flag in Syria, a guard from the Treblinka death camp, a bishop who traded kiddie pics, and a Mafia bodyguard.

I glance back at the boy hobbling after us. He’s holding his fused belly and crying.

“And why is the kid here?” I ask. “He can’t be more than fifteen.”

“He took his father’s pistol and shot five people.”

I suddenly recall the evening news from the day I last headed off to work. Another in a long line of disenfranchised adolescents had opened fire at a school. But I can’t quite recall if they caught the culprit.

“In the end he shot himself,” the devil says.

“You’re reading my mind?” I ask.

“One girl survived.” He’s ignored my question. “She took one in the throat. For the rest of her life, she’ll be a quadriplegic. So tell me, don’t you think he deserves damnation?”

“Maybe he was mentally ill,” I offer.

“A person can always tell right from wrong, no matter how sick they are.”

I ponder this. (What else do I have to do here?) The boy killed five people and maimed others—but does he deserve such a harsh punishment?

“Pain begets pain,” the devil replies to my unspoken question. “It’s not just the five dead, there’s also the pained survivors. Here that makes fifty-one ruined lives. So what do you think, philosopher?”

“And why is she here?” I nod toward Andrea, who’s trudging along ten meters ahead of us.

“She was a crackhead.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah,” he shrugs. “Oh, and she forgot she had a baby girl. One day our dear Andrea came back in from particularly far out and found her dead. Not pretty, dude—her daughter had been starving for two days.” He puts his arm around my shoulder and playfully flexes my muscles. “But it might comfort you to know she felt so guilty, she jumped in front of a train a few hours later. Everyone’s the architect of their own fate, Mike.”

We walk in silence for a while.

“Do you have a name?” I ask.

He laughs heartily and slaps me on the back. “You’d never be able to pronounce my name. Just call me Tony.”

“When will we meet the Judge, Tony?” I ask, not expecting a specific answer.

“Soon enough. For some, it’ll mean the end. For others, it’s just the beginning.”

“And for me?”

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“Well, I’m curious about that myself.”

We’re nearing the Bottom. The scorching heat is overwhelming, and the rocky path undulates like a road in Death Valley. Now and then, we hear a howl behind us, gradually joined by two more. Tony happily walks ahead, and he wags his tail in stride.

I suspect he perceives time differently than we do. Perhaps only half an hour has passed for him, while for us, it’s been months.

As we walk, I support Andrea, who wouldn’t be able to stand without my help. Or she might attack a fellow traveler during a feeding frenzy—the only moment of respite. We’re the last two who haven’t turned into cannibals. Occasionally, I catch someone eyeing us hungrily. We’re undeniably the most vulnerable members of the pack, and without Tony’s authority, we definitely would have already fallen to their raging appetites.

Another feeding. The damned savages are still yelling about it, yet it seems they’re taking it almost sportingly now. Everyone wants to get it over with.

Andrea and I sit side by side. She has her legs resting on my thighs. I’m pulling pebbles out from deep wounds. She gazes apathetically at the people stuffing raw flesh into their mouths by the handful. Some are digging through pulsating entrails, seeking their favorite pieces.

“Those feet don’t look good,” Tony declares above us.

Andrea is startled at the sound of his voice. I give him a scowl. I must admit my confidence has recently grown somewhat.

“Why are you staring like that?” he retorts indignantly.

“Can’t you do something for her?”

“Do you like her?” he pokes. “Do you want to sleep with her?”

That sentence grabs even apathetic Andrea’s attention. I stare at him silently, left short for juicy words.

“You’re a bastard,” I finally blurt out.

“What did I do now?” he pouts. “I mean, we are, well actually you are, grown-ups. We can talk openly, can’t we?” Then he thinks for a moment. “The last time Andrea had sex—by your time—was thirteen months ago. Remember?” He winks at her. “Under a bridge for a dose. Add another six months to that for you. And between us, it wasn’t exactly great, was it?”

After Lucy’s death, sex had never been anything to write home about.

“What’s your game?” I ask irritably.

“Hold tight, I’ll cast a spell for cozy privacy. Intimatus Obscurus!”

Suddenly, the whole area around us goes dim. The feeding frenzy disappears into the darkness. The tornado stops howling and becomes a gentle flame in a stone fireplace. Even the burning heat is replaced by a pleasant room temperature.

Tony kneels next to Andrea. “Don’t worry, little one,” he consoles her and takes her small feet in his calloused hands. “Pedes Reviviscere!” he solemnly intones and caresses her soles.

I wonder if these gibberish spells are real or just a Harry Potter parody. But the fact is, her feet are now okay. Soft and pink.

She comes to life. Her eyes seem to brighten.

“I’m not hungry anymore,” she exhales in amazement. “Or thirsty.” Tears fill her eyes.

“Well ain’t I just a wizard,” says Tony cheerfully, rising to his feet.

“What do you want in return?” My heart pounds like a war drum.

Tony sits in an Art Deco armchair that wasn’t there a second ago. “I’ve never seen people copulating.”

It takes a moment to process the sentence. And suddenly, it’s like I’ve only just realized we’re naked. I notice details I’d ignored before. Her small, nicely shaped breasts, small dark nipples, and flat belly.

Is this some kind of test? I try to kick my lame brain into gear.

Maybe Tony wants to make me sin so he can say I deserve Hell?

Andrea strokes my thigh. Her touch feels like magic.

“Don’t do it,” I whisper.

“Please,” she whispers back. “I don’t want the pain to come back.”

I glare at Tony as her hand moves higher.

I can’t take advantage of her! I can’t risk doing something wrong and staying here!

“I won’t do it.” I try to sound decisive.

“Why?” Tony responds, bewildered. “I think it’s going well.” He points to my growing erection.

But I pull away from Andrea and stand up. I shake my head disapprovingly. I’m convinced that under some stupid rule of Hell, I would be sinning.

“I’m sorry, Andrea,” Tony throws his hands up.

“No no no,” Andrea crawls to me on her knees, and before I can say anything, she takes my penis in her hand. “Please, Mike. Please.” Tears fill her eyes again.

Jesus, what should I do?

Before I can come up with anything, she takes me into her mouth.

Isn’t it rather wrong to refuse? To play the good guy and let her pain return?

Damn it, how am I supposed to think about this?

I pry her away with both hands and look Tony in the eye. “She’ll suffer no more pain until the end of the journey!” I announce with the last remnants of my free will.

“Fine!” he sneers. “But you’d better make it worth it.”

“Thank you,” Andrea whispers from below, and her hungry mouth latches onto me again.

Suddenly, everything is perfect. She’s beautiful and, despite months without a bath, she smells good. Maybe it’s just another one of Tony’s tricks, but I don’t care.

I kiss her. She’s sweet. The sharp rocks suddenly soften. I lay her down on the foam rubber imitation of a rock. She spreads her legs, and I slowly enter her. She’s hot and wet. Finally, I let my brain go and just let my body do what it still remembers. Still, looking back, I recall that I sucked her tiny pink toes. That we moved in perfect unison. That she whimpered and writhed. Teased herself with her fingers and shook in ecstasy. Screamed. Perhaps it was the first scream in Hell not born of pain. I think I screamed too, but I’m not sure.

Finally, we lie in a warm, soft embrace. I feel her breath on my neck.

“Holy shit!” Tony exhales.

Only now do I realize he’s been watching us the whole time. He looks like he’s in shock. Like he’s seen a UFO. Or an angel.

Hell brightens again, and the fiery tornado roars. The soft gray foam hardens back into rock. Heat floods over us.

Our companions sit cramped against the wall. They stare at us. They were invisible to us, but apparently not us to them.

“Don’t forget what you promised!” I try to emphasize the sentence threateningly. It’s probably all I can do.

“Oh yeah,” Tony waves his hand. He jumps to his feet, and the chair disappears with a loud snap.

“Get up, you losers!” he yells at the people sitting against the wall. “You could have been doing so much good back up there, but you treat each other worse than animals! What sort of race are you?!”

His tail snaps like a whip, and the old men scramble out of his way, scratching at their legs.

After driving our herd onto the road, he returns to us, steps up to me, and says, “May we have the room?” while pointing off away.

Andrea slips past him like a little mouse. The devil’s hard palm lands on my shoulder, as he smiles like a crescent moon.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For showing me your other face.”

“How long until we reach the Bottom? And don’t say ‘soon’!”

“We’re already here. That slide over there leads into the Ice Cave.”

“You prick…”

“What’s the matter? You wanted her to stop suffering until the end of the journey. You never asked how far the end was.”

Forty-eight naked bodies stand around a circular hole that’s a football field away.

“Come on,” Tony slaps my back. “Last one in’s a rotten egg.”

As if on cue, a triple howl echoes from the darkness.