Tue, 22 Mar 2022 16:16:39 -0700WeeblyTue, 10 Nov 2015 15:30:04 GMThttp://jefferyemoore.com/chapters/bottle-chapter-2 “You saw the Great Dragon?” Horeth asked.

Keck gripped Horeth’s shoulder with a pressure that would crush the bones of one of the pathetic souls. “No one sees Apollyon, but he did speak to me.” Keck swelled with pride, being one of the demons Apollyon addressed. “I’m one of many our lord addressed.” Being a favored, Keck didn’t need to refer to Apollyon as the Great Dragon. He wondered if all high demons were addressed or just Apollyon’s favorites.

“What’d he say, Keck? What’d he say?”

“A command. He’s charged me to find a soul… a prize.” He prompted Horeth in the direction of the dead trees far away from Apollyon’s garden, or the Center as the souls called it.

Horeth squinted his small, dark eyes. “There’re souls everywhere, Keck.”

“Ah, my dim friend, there is only one prize.”  

Horeth lumbered beside Keck, stooped a little as if bowed from the weight of his massive shoulders. “Where is it? Where are we goin’, Keck?”

“The charge is for high demons, Horeth, but you shall accompany me. And we shall share the prize.”

Sharing wasn’t in Keck’s nature, nor in the nature of any demon, but Horeth, being a low demon and lacking wit and too trusting, didn’t question Keck.

“I’m at your service, Keck.”

“And together we shall bask in the Apollyon’s glory.”

Horeth rubbed his hands together. “Where’s the prize?”

Keck’s exhilaration waned. He eyed his companion… though a demon of much lower stature, an ambitious demon nonetheless. He wouldn’t be so foolish as to underestimate Horeth. “I don’t know.”

“This must be a special soul. Is it at the pits… now?” Horeth’s hands balled and his arms shook like an excited infant anticipating sweets.

“Calm yourself, Horeth, and tell no others.”

Keck started running and Horeth stayed at his side. There was little difference between the two demons. Keck was the more cunning of the two and Horeth more the brute. Keck had more bulk and a head nearing the shape of a cube, unlike Horeth’s roundness. Both wore razor wire circled around their torso and diagonally across their chest and shoulders. Keck wore trousers and Horeth a loin cloth. Other than that, there was little difference between the two.

Keck knew the soul wouldn’t be at the arrival pits. If it were that easy, Apollyon would not summon many high demons and deliver a task. The other high demons would scramble to the pits and pick through the thousands of souls there, but not him. They wasted their time. He had seen the streak of light and knew that must be the soul Apollyon sought.

***

She knew this was Hell—she hadn’t forgotten that. The fall would cause me to forget some things… that’s expected. The trick is to hang on to my memories before they slip away. It’s important I keep calm and focus. I’m a parius. I’m here to find the others. Then I’m to… to… to what? I have to find the others because… because… because it’s important? Because it’s important!

She studied the four souls who appeared more like elderly people—dead elderly people. Her encounter caused her to question what she knew of Hell. No, not what I knew, but what I assumed. How do these souls even know this is Hell? Condemned souls aren’t supposed to have memory of their previous lives. Their physical bodies were unexpected. This is all wrong, the dark souls are supposed to be ghostly, hideous things, constantly crying out in agony. I thought I’d need to constantly wail to blend in.

Falling here as a twelve-year-old girl wearing jeans and a t-shirt was equally shocking. Or maybe I knew what to expect, but forgot. She just needed some time alone to gather her thoughts and focus. That would help me remember, won’t it?

“Shut your trap, Buckle. You don’t know if this is Hell. Nobody knows.” Pepper pulled half an eyeglass from his coat pocket and slipped its broken frame over his left ear.

She tried to stand, but pain shot up her leg and she yelped. This is bad if I can’t even stand… this is really bad.

Pepper grabbed her good leg. “Just hold still. He closed his right eye while inspecting the broken leg. “Do you remember anything?”

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Buckle said, “No.”

“Hmm. Not even your name?”

“No.” That wasn’t a lie. She really didn’t have a name.

Pepper tapped her shin. “The tibia… the big bone’s okay. That makes it easy. We need to hurry and reset your fibula. That’s the smaller bone poking to the side here. It’s a square break… that’s good. It’s actually riding just a little above the upper part.” He pushed down her dirty white sock and then looked up. “Give me a hand, Buckle. Her muscle’s too tight for just me.”

Breathing still hurt. She pulled at the plain white t-shirt. This was an appearance she had never used among the earthly souls. Though gender meant little to a parius—an agent of the Father—she’d always used a female vessel, but never a child. And never did the vessel feel this uncomfortable. The shirts tag scratched at the back of her neck, its collar tight like a noose. She pulled at it. The jeans’ waist dug at her hips. She resisted the urge to rip off the clothes.

Photo laughed at her, looking up from the small pile of junk. “Yup. She’s new. Uncomfortable, right? You’ll get used to it.”

She immediately assumed Pepper must have had some medical training whether the elderly man realized it or not.

Buckle came and kneeled down. “Just leave it.” He put his hand on Pepper’s and whispered, “She’s gonna bring demons and when they find out we’ve helped her….”

“Who gives a care ’bout demons.” Slim tried getting an old eggbeater to turn. “Sometimes I’d like ’em to come an’ just end it fur me. I’m tired of bein’ tired… I’m sick of bein’ hungry… the achin’ and such....”

Buckle locked his eyes to Slim. “Ya just might get that, Slim, and where ya go next may make ya more tired and more hungry. You remember Spoon, don’t ya? He was here when I first came. Went right up to a demon and….” Buckle raked a finger across his neck.

“Bah!” Slim threw down the broken beater and then kicked it. The small pieces of junk sewn in his vest rattled and clinked as if shaking a metal cabasa.

Buckle looked back at Pepper. “She’ll get along just fine. It’ll only hurt for a short time.”

“Quiet, Buckle. Now we usually do what you tell us to and that’s the reason we get along just fine, but I want to give this child a chance. Just grab her leg below the knee and I’ll pull from her ankle. It shouldn’t take much force to get it back in place. Her muscle hasn’t constricted that much.”

Pepper made it sound as if Buckle was some kind of leader of these dark souls.

She watched the two and then glanced at Slim and Photo who looked more interested in some of the junk piled in their blanket. “It doesn’t hurt so bad.”

Buckle smirked. “She doesn’t know anythin’. This is only the beginning. The pains compound. I’ve seen others go crashing ’round with no regard for their body and the next thing ya know, they can’t hardly move because they hurt so bad. It’s not one injury, but it’s many addin’ up.”

She didn’t know that… or perhaps she did, but it was one of the things she’d forgotten.

Pepper continued to feel around the break. “No… it’s not so bad, but Buckle is right. We should get it set before it heals wrong.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“It’s what you implied,” Pepper said. “It might hurt more when we stretch out your muscle. Ready, dear?”

She shrugged, not really knowing how to act with a broken leg. The pain really wasn’t too bad. Being a parius, she never had any aches and pains, let alone physical injuries. Am I still a parius now that I’m fallen? The thought was sobering. In her thought she was still a parius, but her body contradicted that and the realization created more fear.

Pepper gripped hard and pulled. She hissed. It didn’t hurt nearly as much as she expected it should. The lower, bulging part of the fibula slipped back into place.

Pepper eased his grip. “That should do it.”

Pepper and Buckle stood.

“Shouldn’t I have a splint or a cast?” She wiggled her toes hidden within worn, canvas sneakers.

Buckle crossed his arms and blew out a long breath. “It doesn’t work that way. Injuries, wounds, broken bones’ll heal quick enough, but the hurtin’ stays with ya for a while. Just stand up. You’ll see.”

She gingerly stood and took a moment to get her balance—getting a feel for the unfamiliar vessel and the foreign sensations. Her leg had some pain, but nothing close to crippling, more like a really bad bruise. Breathing didn’t hurt as bad, but her ribs throbbed on each breath. Taking a step to test her weight caused a stabbing sensation to shoot up her leg—she hissed. She didn’t like the feel of that at all, but at least could hobble.

She wiped at the stinking mud on her face, but it only seemed to smear. “I don’t think I can walk.” How can I find the others if I can’t walk?

Pepper offered his arm. “You can hold on to me. The pain will lessen quickly. Hell likes us to keep our bodies.”

She grabbed his arm and hopped as he took a step. The jarring spiked pain. She hissed again. This is bad.

“I think it’s a tool to keep us miserable,” Pepper continued. “If you don’t take care of yourself, you’ll end up turning into something grotesque. I’ve seen some people that look real bad. The best thing to do is to be careful and just get used to all the discomforts.”

Pepper led her in a circle. The pain diminished, but only very slightly.

“An’ to have friends,” Slim said. “Got to have a troop to keep outta trouble.”

She flashed a bit of a smile at the thought of these four old people being some kind of intimidating group.

Buckle shook his head. “There’s nothing to smile about, girl. The hunger’s gonna hit you soon and then you won’t be smiling.”

The man was right, she didn’t know why she smiled. She crashed, her memory was suspect, the memory of where to look for the others like her was gone, and now she couldn’t even walk on her own. Maybe smiling was some kind of coping mechanism for the disastrous start to her quest.

“Hunger?” She put a hand on her belly, spreading the mud around on her shirt. “I do feel a little hungry… and thirsty.” Another indication she was truly fallen and no longer a real parius.

Slim studied an old toaster and worked one of its knobs. “You’ll get used to it.”

“It only gets worse.” Photo didn’t look up, sifting through a pile of old and tattered papers. “It’s best to find something that takes your mind off it.”

Pepper scrutinized her as if seeing her for the first time. He twisted the edge of his mustache with his free hand, forming a point on its end. “You’re only just now feeling the hunger?”

She nodded and tried wiping her free hand clean on the back of her jeans. By Pepper’s hard stare, she had just made a mistake… said something wrong. She needed to do a better job at staying quiet. That feeling came again—fear. She thought for a moment Pepper would harm her for being evasive.

Pepper stopped.

Her leg throbbed when she put weight on it.

“We’re a long way from the arrival pits, girl. People would be crazy hungry by now. Why aren’t you?” Pepper’s voice had a tightness to it. “And look at you. You’re undamaged and pretty… a child. I didn’t think children came here. Why weren’t you taken? The unmarred ones are always taken when they come out of the pools.”

A shiver ran over her. She wanted to ask where those taken were brought and what happened to them, but she needed to play ignorant and scared. If they discovered she was not a dark soul like them, they could use that. Dark souls had no good inside them and trusting any of them was a foolish risk. She needed to disengage from this group of souls and set about finding the others.

***

Buckle stared at the girl. She was shorter than he originally thought and perhaps younger, but with the mud coating her face, hands, and arms it was hard to tell. He knew her shoulder length hair was blonde, but the mud had worked in thoroughly, plastering it in disarrayed clumps as if she shampooed with peanut butter.

He stopped picking at the long tuft of hair above his ear. Why he didn’t simply walk away from her baffled him. She obviously would bring trouble, not that more aggressive souls worried him, but he and the others preferred to avoid conflicts. Something about her made him doubt his typical steadfast indifference to all others. Oh, he masterfully put on a show of hardheartedness, but something in his mind knew he wasn’t going to abandoned the girl, and this is what had him confused and curious.

He glanced back to the top of the tree to the leaf that still held strong. Maybe I’m not the leaf, he mused, maybe there’s some piece of goodness within my dark soul.

The girl was already scared and Pepper’s interrogation made things worse. “Everybody’s different, Pepper.” Buckle gave the girl a knowing glance.

She released Pepper’s arm and took a tentative step. She hissed and nearly fell to the ground. Buckle tried not to smile, but couldn’t help it. The girl had a lot to learn. Am I helping her now? Buckle knew she wasn’t normal… even the most foolish souls could see that. He saw her come from the sky and for now he’d keep her secret, letting the others think she came up from the pits like everyone else. After all, he felt it was his role to protect the troop and that included protecting them from the truth, although if he were being honest, he had no clue to why the girl arrived differently. But if push came to shove and he had to choose between the girl and the welfare of his troop, he’d give her over to the Great Dragon himself.

“People are not that different.” Pepper’s stare softened. His eyes flicked between Buckle and her. He stopped twisting his mustache. “I think you’re lucky, girl. You managed to slip through the cracks and you managed to come to our little troop. Very lucky on an astronomical scale.”

Slim fiddled with the toaster’s ejector mechanism. “It took me a long time to walk this far, but that must’ve been a hundred years ago by now.” He smiled when the toaster ejected a fork. “How long it take ya?”

She looked around and took another step that once again had her hissing. “I should go.”

“Where? There’s no place to go,” Buckle said. “There’s only places to stay away from. The Center and the arrival pits aren’t good places to wander into. They’re filled with demons. In fact, there’s probably no place ya should wander into.” He looked at the others. “Ya should probably come with us.”

He ignored the incredulous looks from the other three, and could hardly believe the words coming from his mouth.

“No. I should go. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful.”

She turned to hobble away, but Buckle snatched her arm. “Ya don’t have to stay, but at least let us give ya the rules. It may save ya from the demons and all the nasty things that’re equally bad, and I’ll tell ya, girl, there’re really bad things.”

***

She began to think Buckle wanted her to stay so he could find a way to use her. The questions would only become harder to answer. She needed to go. If the souls managed to figure out why she’d come, they would probably keep her from finding the others. How would they even find out what I am and why I’m here?

It was painfully obvious she was ignorant to the dangers and challenges. Finding the others like her was a goal, not a strategy. She had to admit that she really didn’t have much of a plan, or maybe she did have a well thought out plan, but simply couldn’t remember. If she had a plan, how did using a twelve-year-old vessel fit into that plan? She wasn’t even sure where she’d begin to search. What little she was told about Hell was wrong.

She took Buckle’s offered arm and let him guide her away from the tree. Each of her hobbled steps sent a shot of pain through her. Pepper walked beside Buckle. Slim and Photo followed, dragging the blanket full of junk. She’d use the situation to her advantage. The troop of souls could give her the information needed to find the others.

Buckle put his free hand over hers. “Remember where you’re at, girl. There’re people in this place that’d like nothing more than to hurt ya. Like Pepper said, you’re a child and undamaged and that’s gonna draw attention. There’re many characters in Hell who see young and pretty and want nothing more than to make it ugly. Ya know what I’m saying?”

“I think so.” That shiver went down her body again. She contemplated running away, but couldn’t think of which direction to go. The image of her trying to hobble away nearly made her laugh.

Buckle pulled on a tuft of hair patched on his scalp. “Just remember this place has the worst kinds of people. I suppose that’s why we’re all here.”

She glanced at the four elderly people. Dark souls enjoy inflicting pain and watching the pain of others. They looked harmless and that piqued her curiosity. What’s their evil? The Father would know.

“We’ve been together for a long time. We aren’t those kinds of people.” Pepper stared blankly ahead. “We know we’re not good people. We may not remember what we’ve done, but we understand we must have done terrible things.”

The others nodded.

“We stick ta’gether,” Slim said. “There’s safety in numbers.”

“But… but you’re old,” she said.

Everyone laughed.

“See, ya need to hear the rules,” Buckle said.

Pepper looked over his shoulder as if there might be someone coming up on them. “The appearance of age means nothing. These bodies are just a representation of what we were. We’re not physically weaker or stronger or faster or slower than anybody else. Don’t be fooled by our appearance and don’t be intimidated by how others look.”

“Except demons,” Buckle said. “They’re faster and stronger, but they seem to stay away from people in groups.”

The walk across the muddy open area brought them to what she thought was a small, fenced compound of sorts. Discarded junk fixed together comprised the circular fence. The fence’s bottom had large appliances such as washing machines and ovens. The six foot high fence tapered to a top that had thousands of knives and forks jutting outward.

Slim nudged her. “You like it?”

She gawked. “It screams ‘stay away.’”

“Exactly!”

The compound wasn’t big, no more than fifty steps from end-to-end. In the center a canopy draped over four badly damaged chairs. The canopy was odd, seeing how there was no sun to be shaded from. Behind the canopy were several large piles of junk. Old bicycles, toys, pipes, and wire were only a few of the things she recognized. Several barrels were in front of the piles. Photo sat in one of the chairs and looked at pictures and documents. Slim rummaged through the small pile of junk in the blanket. Pepper sat beside Photo, studying one of the pictures.

“How long have you been here?” the girl said to Buckle.

“The others were already here before me. Ya see, we have no memory of our life, but we still can recall general stuff. We all know the language. We ’member significant events. You can kinda tell from the clothes folks wear. Pepper’s red coat looks like it’s from the late Victorian period, I think. Slim’s hat’s a soldier’s from the Civil War. Since Photo came here after Slim and before Pepper, I think she’s from the late 19th century. I lived sometime after them. I would say I was a mechanic by my clothes, except their yellowish color makes it hard to know for sure. There’s no time here. We just exist.”

Slim looked up from the thing he fiddled with. “There’s time. We just have no way ta measure it. No sun… no moon… no stars… no clocks. Not even a heartbeat.”

“It doesn’t matter. Time means nothin’ here.” Buckle went to tugging at the tuft of hair again. “Existence without change makes time meaningless.”

She didn’t wholly agree. Time meant something to her. Time was perhaps her worst enemy here. Time eroded her memories.

“Do ya know what this is?” Slim held up the small appliance.

“It’s a smartphone,” she said.

Slim looked at it. “What’s that?”

“It’s like a small computer that you can call people on, but that one’s broken. The display is all cracked and it’s busted open. I don’t think it’ll work.” She thought a moment. “Do you know what a computer is?”

“Everything’s broken, dear,” Pepper said. “See these pictures that Photo collects? They’re torn and frayed and faded. You can’t even make out the subject. We’re surrounded by things that are discarded… trash. It’s a constant reminder of what we are and what we can never have. Like the hunger and pain, it’s part of our punishment. It’s meant to keep us wanting.”

“Ya get used ta it.” Slim tossed down the broken phone.

She looked around the compound. “Where do you sleep?”

The others laughed.

“There’s no sleep,” Buckle said. “We forever stay awake. You’ll see. You’ll get the feeling you want to sleep, but can’t. It’s like the red sky. Sometimes it seems like it’ll give you a glimpse of the sun, but never will. This is Hell.”

Photo put down the papers. “So young. How do ya think she died?”

“Sit,” Buckle said.

She sat on the ground. Buckle and Slim sat in the other two chairs.

“Suicide,” Pepper said. “She’s the youngest thing I’ve seen an’ she’s got no injuries.”

The others nodded in agreement.

“Or could be drownin’,” Buckle said. “Too young for killin’ herself. She was probably walkin’ ’cross thin ice and fell in and died.”

The guessing game sparked a question. “Have you seen others like me? Young and undamaged?”

They looked at each other and then Buckle said, “Naw, but we’ve been stayin’ here and few people come out here. It’s like Pepper said, young and undamaged are probably taken when they arrive.”

After a long pause, Photo continued the game. “Maybe medical problem.” She held up a barely recognizable wedding picture. “Or a forbidden love. Like Romeo an’ Juliet. She loved a boy she could never have. It’s a tale of romance and tragedy. Knowin’ she ’ould never be with the man she was destined to love, she took her life, endin’ a young life that only saw a future of longin’ and loneliness.”

“I was shot.” Slim pointed at the bullet holes in his chest.

Her window of opportunity for finding the others slipped away with each moment. This wasn’t the information she needed. She didn’t have time for their games.

“Crushed.” Buckle patted his chest.

“Strangled… hanged.” Pepper pulled down the high collar of his shirt to reveal the long bruises across his neck.

Photo shrugged. “Maybe just old age.”

Slim stood and stretched out his arms. “She needs a name.”

I have a name… or do I? Is my name Parius? Why does that name not sound right?

“You just can’t go around without a name.” Slim pointed to the barrels by the junk piles. “Grab somethin’ from a barrel.”

“Why?” she said.

“You’ll see.”

She stood. “What are you looking for?”

“Just grab somethin’ an’ bring it here.”

She looked at Buckle who nodded, and then wondered why she looked to him for some kind of approval. Of the four of them, Buckle seemed most dangerous. He was their leader of sorts. He saw her fall. He knew she was different and still hadn’t told anyone. She went to one of the barrels and pulled out what looked like a soda bottle. The glass bottle had the top part of the neck broken off. The label was scratched off. She brought the bottle back to Slim who looked at it without taking it.

Slim glanced at the others. “We’ll call ya Bottle.”

She eyed the bottle. “Bottle?”

“Sure.” Slim pointed back to the barrel. “Everyone needs a name. Ya can put the bottle back.”

Now their names—Buckle, Slim Jim, Pepper, and Photo—made sense. She shrugged and went back to the barrel.

Bottle it is.

]]>Sun, 01 Nov 2015 16:01:06 GMThttp://jefferyemoore.com/chapters/bottle-chapter-1  

Seeking to forget makes exile all the longer; the secret of redemption lies in remembrance.

-Richard von Weizsaecker

 

The bent trees displayed agony, the wind’s howl embodied misery, and the foul stench on each inhale was death. This was Hell. Buckle, sitting on the sturdy low branch of one of the many blackened and dead trees, studied the single green leaf at the highest branch. Maybe the place isn’t completely dead.

Buckle fancied himself a soul different from the dark souls here—maybe a poet of sorts, and if such a thing were possible among the dead, proud. Not immodest or conceited where he would actually vocalize a position of superiority. Saying such things could make his existence more miserable. Not for the first time, he imagined his condemnation had been an unfortunate mistake. He never felt evil. Of course, the feeling was likely intentional; instilling thoughts of some great injustice within a dark soul kept the soul tormented, and, after all, that was Hell’s purpose.

He repositioned his long, thin body for better balance and gazed back up. The leaf contrasted sharply with Hell’s deep red clouds. Buckle came here often to look at the leaf, believing it was a sign of hope… a glimmer of life in this kingdom for the dead. The leaf held each day despite Hell’s breeze. He liked to think of himself as the leaf—something good in a place of evil, something that stubbornly hung on day after day. The thought was fantasy, for nothing good existed in Hell, and the banished souls must therefore be evil.

Buckle often wondered upon his forgotten wickedness. Many of the souls he encountered were little more than marauding beasts. Despite Hell’s torments, he had never succumbed to devolving into primal, horrid actions like maiming and torturing others for no reason.

The leaf bobbed on the scorching breeze. For as long as he’s been in this place, it had withstood the torturous conditions. If the leaf actually held life, then he assumed life must exist within the tree itself. And if a splinter of life existed here then it could exist in other places.

The tree shimmied and creaked at a sudden and rare gust in the ever constant breeze. The wind shifted direction. In the decades or even century of Buckle’s presence, he never recalled the wind changing—ever. And this caused a funny feeling on his spine like someone was lightly drumming fingernails up and down on it. He looked in all directions, but saw nothing strange except the leaf.

The leaf seemed different now. He couldn’t quit put his finger on the difference until focusing beyond the leaf to the clouds. His hollow eyes tried to make sense of a swirling pattern directly overhead. The spinning appeared to intensify and concentrate to a small point. He’d never seen the clouds swirl or even alter their speed, color, or direction. A small, inverted funnel formed. A pinpoint of light shone through the funnel’s eye—brightness foreign in Hell’s murk.

Hell had shown him a singular, unwavering certainty: Nothing changes—ever.

Until now.

 

***

 

Falling. The rush of air. Clothing flapped. Tumbling… twisting. Blonde hair whipped in all directions. She scrambled for something to grab, but felt nothing. Just falling.

This is just a dream… just a dream. Her mind flooded with strange sensations. Senses… just my senses. Fear… yes, emotion… yes, that was expected. Not a dream. Anxiety, nervousness, but right now mostly fear.

Heat… oh the heat, Father.

Reds and blacks tumbled across her vision. The sky’s deep red color put everything in stormy dimness. She held out her arms and legs like skydivers do, stopping the twirling and controlling her fall—sort of. Dark ground sped toward her.

I’m okay… nothing will happen… I can’t die here… can I?

Flashes of the surface. A city of sorts. Jagged streets like silver fractures on glass. She hurtled closer. Decrepit buildings. The city’s outskirts. Black pools. Hills… maybe. Splotchy ground. The smell of rot. A dead forest.

A withered tree.

A figure in the tree. An old man on a branch. Sunken eyes stared at her, mouth agape.

Crash.

Branches broke as pain exploded in her chest. Air blew from her lungs as she hit the ground with the grace of a sandbag. The large branch whacked across her back, pinning her on the slimy ground. The man fell awkwardly on top of the branch and her.

She struggled for breath. The pain caused her to cry out. As with the initial sensations, she wasn’t prepared for pain.

“What the…. Who the….” The man’s gruff voice rumbled like an idling motorcycle.

Ragged breaths brought a stabbing in her chest. Broken ribs? Stinking, hot ground threatened to roast her. Not an ordinary heat like from a summer day, but the kind of heat that came off a fire’s coals. She didn’t burn, but edged on that point just before.

Gritty mud stuck to her face and scraped at her skin like a metal file. She tried to move, but the heavy branch kept her trapped and the pain made movement feeble. The primal part of her brain put her on the threshold of panic. She couldn’t afford to lose control. She’d seen the living souls panic. She needed her wits… and some luck.

“Sorry,” she hissed, twisting her head to see the soul. Her high-pitched tone sounded far from strong, and she needed to come off as strong when facing dark souls. “I think my back is broken.” Hopefully she could get some sympathy from the man she careened into. The pain throbbing from her left leg indicated her back wasn’t really broken. The clumsy arrival was nothing like she imagined.

How did I think it would be if I came here? Is this where I was supposed to fall? Everything seemed to go wrong… falling on a dark soul when she was supposed to avoid them, injured, trapped, and now all kinds of questions in her head.

The man rolled to the side and came to rest beside her. His dark eyes locked to her, studying her. His skin had a grayish color—the color of the dead. His tightly pressed lips and squinty eyes warned her of his mood. Deep wrinkles and liver spots covered his face. His scalp had splotches of wispy, ashen hair. The man stunk like rotting garbage.

She gagged and turned away, hoping to breathe clean air. She wasn’t prepared for the smells. She wasn’t prepared to confront a dark soul so soon. She was supposed to come unnoticed. Her arrival was quite the opposite. And she hadn’t imagined the foreign sensations would be so overpowering. On the plus side of things, the man didn’t immediately attack her and that was unexpected seeing how dark souls craved hurting others.

“There’s worse things here than a broken back.” The man groaned when he sat up.

She’d have to be hurt really bad to have something worse than a broken back.

The man’s lips, mouth, and jaw worked as if he struggled to keep words from spilling out. “Head injuries are bad. Zipper had his eye popped. It left a terrible mess. That’s bad. I saw a lady once who had the whole back part of her head missing. I can’t imagine that felt downright peachy.”

The man’s arm bone jutted from a rip in his sleeve.

What’s he talking about? She stared at him while he gruffly recounted injuries that could be worse than a broken back. She lay a bit dumbstruck of what to make of him. Her throat became parched. Her clothing felt confining.

As the old man rambled, he yanked his wrist, straightening his broken arm. She squirmed as he twisted and worked his arm back into place; his forearm bone crunched and ground. The man didn’t grimace.

Soul, she reminded herself. The body is just a vessel…. She tried once more to push herself up.

“Cabbage was the kid’s name… a young’un he was. Yeah, that was bad. He arrived missin’ an arm and then up and got his foot all whacked off.” The man shook his head. “Has to walk ’round on a stump… that can’t be good. And then—”

“Uh. I’m stuck.” Again, she failed to add any force in her tone. These were evil souls and she’d need to be strong and menacing when confronting them.

The man looked back at her. “It serves ya right, the way ya broke my tree. I’m not sure I should help ya. I’m not sure I should help ya at all. The way ya came here, I’m thinkin’ a demon’ll come lookin’.”

“Please….” The sincerity of desperation in her tone surprised her. So much for being threatening. She’d never been desperate before… she’d never experienced any of this before. If she could just get unstuck and away from the soul, she could figure out the sensations.

“I don’t want to cross no demons. I saw ’em whack off men’s heads… many times. That’ll do it. I don’t know what kind of place people go that’s worse than this, and I don’t wanna find out. No. I’m thinkin’ if I help ya then the demons’ll take off my head… and I think that’s far worse than a broken back.”

“I didn’t do anything.” She shot the man her best “woe is me” look—trembling lips and trying to force non-existent tears in her eyes. She couldn’t lie for long on the hot mud.

With what looked like great effort, the man stood. He was taller than she first thought. He wore a grease-stained, yellowish jumpsuit like mechanics wore. The nametag read “Ernie.” His chest looked deformed somehow, but she couldn’t really tell for sure.

He looked around and then down at her. “Who says ya have to do anythin’? Since when do demons need a reason to send someone to some lower existence? Ya came here differently. Different isn’t good, girl. Who are ya? What’re ya doin’ here?”

“I don’t… I don’t….” She couldn’t bring herself to lie.

“Yeah, memory’s not there? Well, don’t waste time tryin’ ta get it back. It’s gone, girl. Why’re come here fallin’ and all. Different brings the demons and I don’t want trouble with demons. Different gets ya head whacked off and then ya go to some worse place. I don’t want that.”

“I-I don’t either.” She let a sob escape. This wasn’t what she imagined. This wasn’t how it’s supposed to be. Murphy’s Law came to mind: If anything can go wrong, it will. She worried her quest would end before it even started.

The quest… my quest. How could she almost forget already? She took a moment to recite why she was here. My name is… is…? That’s not right, is it? Have I forgotten my name? I’m here to find the others… the other who? Her initial memory loss was worse than expected and the initial panic she had under control reasserted itself. Like me! The others like me. The missing. Father sent me here to find the others. Father? Where are you, Father? She squeezed her eyes closed.

Father?

An unfamiliar and unfathomable emptiness filled her.

Father?

Her spirit was alone—a concept she could’ve never imagined. The crushing loneliness threatened to consume her. Fight it… if the living souls can live in such isolation then so can I.

“Buckle!” a man shouted.

She twisted her head. The muddy earth smeared over her mouth. She tried to spit the vile, bitter taste from her tongue. She wiped the mud away from her eyes.

The man’s ragged red-brown coat hung on broad shoulders and its color nearly matched the sky. He could’ve been as old as the man in the jumpsuit. He meandered over. His red-tinged hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Like the other man, he had the same grayish skin color, but less blemished.

She recalled helping a child cope with the loss of a grandfather. With his large, dark, kind eyes and a manicured mustache, the man reminded her of that grandfather. I explained to the child that the passing wasn’t death… it wasn’t the end of life, but the next step in the journey. I assured the child her grandfather was with the Father.

Father?

She steadied herself, determined not to let the loneliness deter her from the quest. I can do this, Father.

The new arrival walked with a hitch as if his hip bothered him.

“Help the poor dear, Buckle.”

“I’m thinkin’ that’s not all together a great idea, Pepper.”

Buckle and Pepper… strange names, she thought.

Buckle pointed down at her. “It’s a girl. I’ve never seen a girl. Have you? She’s trouble, and I mean demon trouble. Ya don’t want that, do ya? Don’t ya remember what happened to Toaster?” He hesitated. “Well, I do. Whack… that’s what happened. Ya don’t want to end up like Toaster, do ya? Well, I don’t.”

“Stop exaggerating. What would demons want with a girl?”

Girl? Don’t women exist here?

“Since when’ve we ever known what demons want? I don’t want to know and I’m not ready to find out where the demons’ll send me.” Buckle raked a finger across his neck. “Whack,” he hissed.

She followed the exchange between Buckle and Pepper and wondered why women were unheard of. Women had dark souls. Perhaps not as common as men. Then she thought with the overwhelming number of wicked men, women probably don’t last long. But then where do their souls go? Another existence like Buckle says doesn’t sound right.

Pepper began lifting the branch. “You’re like some boil waiting to pop… don’t just stand there. Help me, Buckle.”

Buckle helped lift the branch, shaking his head as if releasing her was absurd. “I’m thinkin’ this’ll bring a demon.”

Pepper and Buckle heaved the branch to the side.

“You’re always thinking that. Sometimes you’re just thinking too much.” Pepper squatted down next to her. His smile showed neatly lined pristine teeth behind gray lips. “Where’re you hurt, dear?”

She scrambled to gather her thoughts. If she had any hope of success, she needed to pretend she was one of those dark souls. Blending was paramount to success.

Buckle took a step back and looked down at her. “She said her back was broke.” He crossed his arms.

She rolled to her back and hissed at the shot of pain. She put on her bravest face and pointed to her left calf. “No, it’s just my leg.” Her voice sounded strange, but the two souls didn’t seem to notice. Wiping at the mud around her mouth only seemed to add to the mess. She sputtered.

Pepper lifted the pant leg of her muddied blue jeans. Her skin bulged oddly midway between her ankle and calf. It looked bad.

“Hmm.” Pepper leaned back on his haunches. “It’s broke, but it’s not too bad.” He looked at the branch, to the tree, and then to Buckle. “What happened?”

Before Buckle could answer, she said, “I saw Buckle sitting in the tree and I came to him. That’s when the branch broke and fell on me.” Telling them the whole truth would be dangerous. Even if she mustered a small degree of trust, it would be dangerous. She looked at Buckle pleadingly.

Buckle studied her as if weighing the consequences of lying. He opened his mouth, but before speaking, a woman and a man approached, distracting him. “This is just great,” he mumbled.

Like Buckle and Pepper, the other two were elderly. Both clutched corners of a blanket that dragged behind them. The man was shorter than Buckle and the thinnest, gangliest looking man she’d ever seen. He adjusted his dark blue hat atop onyx-black hair. He wore a black t-shirt beneath an unbuttoned, blue vest and long, heavy trousers. Despite his anorexic physique, he sported a round belly, making him look like water hose stuck with a golf ball stuck inside. Her eyes fixed to what looked like three bullet holes in the man’s chest. She’d seen people who were shot, but the gag reflex was new.

“Are you okay?” she whispered. I can’t show concern. Dark souls don’t show such concern for others.

The man laughed, making his round belly bounce. The myriad of small material—gears, springs, wires, nuts, bolts—fastened to the man’s vest jingled as he laughed.

Buckle shook his head. “Comin’ from the junk heaps? What do ya want with more garbage? All you’re doin’ is movin’ garbage from one place to another.”

The man eyed her, ignoring Buckle. “Whatcha got here? She’s a young ’un. Ya shouldn’t have let ’er roll in the mud.”

The woman, who walked hunched as if she had a bad back, let go of the blanket. She stood beside Pepper. “You’re gonna have a hard time gettin’ that dirt off. New arrival?”

Everyone looked at her.

The woman confused her. A moment ago Buckle and Pepper implied they’d never seen a woman. No, they said “girl.”

Girl? She pushed down the building panic while inspecting her body for the first time. Why would the Father put me in this vessel? This place doesn’t have children. How am I not going to stand out?

“I said, are you a new arrival?” The woman’s white hair fell over the sides of her face.

She needed to be careful. Her survival depended on it. “Umm. I think so.” That’s what was odd about her squeaky voice—it was a girl’s voice. She couldn’t panic.

She couldn’t help staring at the woman’s dress. At first she thought the white dress had faded gray patterns. Looking more closely, old photographs were sewn in over every inch of material.

Pepper gestured to Buckle. “He broke her leg.”

Buckle said nothing, only stared down at her.

She mentally gathered herself. I’m a girl and I can use that to my advantage. I need to act confused and lost… that’s right. That’s the way an arriving soul would be. “W-where am I?” She hoped to convey fear in her tone.

“Yup, she’s new.” The man bent down, leaning toward her. “My name’s Slim Jim, but I mostly go by Slim.”

When her eyes fell to Slim’s belly, the man began laughing.

“I know, not so slim.”

“I’m Photo,” the woman said, ignoring Slim.

Buckle, Pepper, Slim Jim, and Photo… those are some odd names. I need to play innocent and then get on my way. “Where am I?”

Buckle eyed what looked like a leaf on the top of the tree and then scowled down at her. “Welcome to Hell, little girl.”

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