Authors: Allan Burd
I slap on my generation 3 autogated night vision goggles
, and get a slightly better view. I’m immediately greeted by my first pleasant surprise. My pa’s motorcycle is lying sideways about twenty yards away. I thought for sure it exploded. That’s what usually happens when fire meets a gas tank. Yet here it was, still in one piece, which is more than I can say about the half zombie underneath it. I lose the fireproof suit, arm up, and approach it. Even though it’s just an upper torso, I see it’s still moving so I spend a bullet putting it down for good. I lift the bike upright and race the throttle. The growl of the engine followed by the steady hum is music to my ears.
The
n something louder growls behind me, a throaty bark that echoes throughout the canyon-like terrain. I turn and see a massive beast the size of a mammoth charging my way. It’s wooly like one, but it has three head’s; each of a wild wolfhound.
Hell’s idea of a threesome seriously differs from mine.
Six vicious eyes bear down on me. Thick sharp teeth glimmer green, eager to rip me apart. I’ve heard stories about this beast before. Apparently, the myths are true. In order for a living being to enter Hell he must get past the Devil’s guard dog; a three-headed hell-hound named Cerberus who has an insatiable appetite for live meat. I can tell he’s hungry. I see it in his piercing animal eyes. It’s probably been a really long time since he’s feasted.
And here I am, merely a bone.
Chapter 23
I’m on the bike, tearing ass, zig-zagging erratically around the stalagmites like a bat in a belfry. Cerberus is right on my tail, crashing through the stalagmites between us, shattering the stony protrusions as if they were made of Legos. I feel his doggie breath on the hackles of my neck and cut a hard right around a large boulder, narrowly avoiding death as a chew toy. The big mutt skids into a wall trying to stop, colliding with it so hard pieces of the blood stone chip off. Then he twists back around and continues the chase.
My wheels have a good grip on the
rock-like surface. I twist the bars hard right again, plant my foot on the ground as the bike banks, spin around, and dart back toward the gate. I think about luring him through the portal, but I’m not keen on dropping another big problem on Earth’s lap, let alone Miguel who’s standing right there. So I scout the terrain, look for a spot where at least I’ll have a fighting chance. A row of tall, thick stalagmites that look like a bottom row of teeth are about a half click to my left. I go full throttle, accelerating so quickly the cycle jumps into a wheelie. When the front tire lands, rubber burns and I glance behind me. Fido’s coming full blast, smashing through the smaller stalagmites, turning pillars of stone into piles of dust. I hope the ones I’m heading for are made of sturdier stuff. They’re going to have to be.
Fido’s running faster than my cycle, his giant strides covering a lot of ground with each step.
He’s gaining on me. But I see my first piece of good news. The stalags are staggered like stone trees in a forest with narrow spaces between them. I can hide in there, making his rather large size a disadvantage. I lean forward, hoping for that little bit of extra speed. Fido’s behind me coming fast and hard. Neither of us plans on stopping.
I zip between two towering columns of rock. A second later
, the underworld quakes as Cerebus’ collides hard with the thick mossy stone stalagmites. A micro-second after that, I have a more immediate problem. There’s a king-size boulder right in front of me and I don’t think I can stop in time… and I’m nowhere near as durable as three-face. I wildly burn a sharp left. Another ‘stone tree’ is right there. I cut a quick right, but the space is too tight and the bike can’t compensate for my sudden change in direction. The motorcycle skids, balance is lost, and I’m thrown sideways, both the bike and I sliding to a hard, nasty stop. I should be broken and bleeding. Instead, I’m lying in a patch of vegetation that feels soft, sticky, and wet, like a used kitchen sponge. Whatever the shit is, I’m grateful for it. I’m alive, the Harley’s still in one piece, and I’ve got a monster that needs killing so I can go kill the devil.
Cerberus is having a temper tantrum loud enough to wake the dead, which down here isn’t a joke. He’s growling up a terrifying storm and throwing his massive weight against the stalagmites
between us. So far they’re holding, the pillars of God if you ask me, but they won’t for long. I reach into my pouch of weapons, deciding to save the heavy artillery for Balzuzu and reach for the Lupara. I race toward the rocks he’s pounding on. There’s a loud crash. It rains pebbles then one of his heads is through. A mouth darts at me, its jaws snapping shut an inch before my face. I pull back from the nice shiny teeth and fire into his maw. Fangs shatter. I fire again. This head retreats, but another crashes through the bloodstone and attacks me from the side.
Its snout knocks me d
own. A giant paw smashes through another stalagmite, tries to squash me flat. I roll, turn, and fire another blast into a face that comes far too close for comfort. The third head appears out of nowhere. I run then hide between three colossal stalagmites set in a triangular pattern. Cerberus reaches my makeshift fortress in one stride and with a sharp movement knocks the top half off two of the three stalagmites, showing me just how futile my efforts to hide truly are. I reload and fire, hitting him multiple times in his front right leg, hoping to hobble him. It doesn’t.
Another head
comes from the side taking out the top half of the last stalagmite. The big dog has me pinned, the massive beast hovering above me. I’m a sitting duck trapped like dog food in a bowl made of three stony stumps. All that’s left is for him to decide which mouth feeds on me first. Fuck waiting for Balzuzu. Cerberus takes two seconds to decide it’ll be the middle head that eats me. In that first second, I grab a grenade and pull the pin. The following second the grenade is heading for the open mouth before it heads towards me.
The grenade skips off his slick tongue, bounces to the roof of his mouth, and detonates.
The result is awe inspiring. The middle head bursts like a water balloon. Gooey inside-the-skull stuff spatters the surrounding stalagmites, me, and his other two heads. The only thing left in the middle is a fleshy stump that looks like it was pelted with tomatoes.
But I’ve been in the game long enough to know this is only a good beginning. Monsters, especially giant ones, never go down easy. Not for one second do I think this devil dog is going to be any different. It kicks up on its rear legs in pain, shock, and anger. I pull the pin from another grenade. One in the mouth was lucky. This one I roll underneath him towards his rear legs. The left head lurches towards me, snarling, coming fast. My grenade explodes before it gets the chance to snap down. Its right rear leg is blown clean off and the massive mutt hound stumbles sideways.
I don’t stop. I lob two more at its exposed underbelly. In return, I get a gut bath that’s equal in nastiness as to when I upchucked in my space suit. The smell is revolting, abhorrent. Ten times worse than all the other rotten odors I’ve been saddled with today, a hundred times worse than the shit pile I hid in last night. A piece of his large intestine drapes over my shoulder. Or maybe it’s his small intestine because he’s such a large dog. I gag then realize something soft and spongy is in my mouth. I dry heave again. Twice. The price of victory.
I wipe my eyes
with my sleeve and see the big beast. It’s writhing. Both of its heads are still moving. Then one of the heads howls, a roar so powerful it shakes the foundations of Hell. When it stops, its four remaining eyes lock onto me with a gaze so intense I know I’ll be paying for this for an eternity. Not even my death will satisfy this creature’s bloodlust for revenge. So, fuck it. I figure I‘ll get my money’s worth. I grab another grenade, pull the pin, and toss it in the quiet head’s mouth. Then I race by the noisy head, and as he weakly snaps his jaw at me, I shove another live grenade in its wet nostril.
I race as fast as I can and take cover behind a stalag stump. I hear two consecutive booms then patiently wait a few seconds
to avoid being hit with any more of his brain matter. I listen to the sucking sound as his doggie parts go splat on Hell’s floor, finding it as soothing to my ears as Mozart. When the symphony ends, I peek out, see the mess I made, and all I can think of is it’s a shame I wasn’t able to watch.
Hell’s a horrifying, fucked up place. I’m beginning to like it down here. Now all I gotta do is find Balzuzu and figure out how to kill him now that I’m out of grenades.
I gather up the bike and walk it out of the stalagmite forest. The terrain is starting to feel familiar. I just need to figure out which way to go to find Balzuzu. I hop on and gun the cycle in the direction Cerberus came from, figuring if he’s the guard dog there must be something in that direction worth guarding. After a mile it feels like I’m on a trail to nowhere. The entire place looks the same, a boring kaleidoscope of nauseating deep hues reflecting over a canyon of emptiness under the weight of an unforgiving black sky. Maybe that’s what Hell is supposed to be, a void filled with nothing, a desolate chasm of hopelessness.
I tak
e it slow, look around, and continually check my six for any nasty surprises. You never know what else inhabits a place like this. Then something taps my noggin like a bug on a windshield…
only this bug slips inside
. It’s almost imperceptibly light, but I feel it mingling with my mind. My brain tingles. An image flashes. The body of a man hacked to pieces. A face of a husky man with a beard reflects in the pool of blood. Two more invisible ‘bugs’ zap my forehead and make themselves at home inside my head. More images, more memories that aren’t mine. A machine gun fires and multiple bodies fall lifeless into an open pit. Dark skinned hands lower the gun then a faceless man spits into a mass grave. A flash of red and I’m elsewhere. A seedy motel. A degenerate blond, young but aged well past her years, stares at her hollow face in the mirror. Behind her the man she purposely overdosed so she could steal his share of crystal meth.
I hit the bra
kes so I don’t crash as the horrible images overwhelm me. More zaps. It’s like I got too close to a beehive and the stings won’t stop, each one bringing with it memories of a life filled with evil deeds. Sex slaves being drugged, used, and locked up. A tattooed Asian man being gutted with a sword. A middle-eastern man ordering death. A bank robber shooting a hostage. A drug deal that goes violently wrong. It continues… a montage of wicked acts, including the sounds, smells, and tastes of the worst things that men and women could do to each other and I can’t turn it off.
“Just focus on my thoughts,” a voice calls out from within me.
I do. I see a slim piece of metal slip between the driver’s side window and the door panel of a soon to be stolen car. A fist fight with a drunk in a bar. There someone else’s bad memories, but they don’t nearly rise to the level of evil as the crimes committed by the others. Not even close. I concentrate, forcing myself to stay with them. I see me as a boy, but through someone else’s eyes. Positive emotions flood forward, the horrible imagery fading away.
“They’re gone
. Your soul burns too bright. They can’t stay for long.” I recognize the voice immediately.
“Christian?” I ask
, just to make sure.
“Yeah,
dipshit, it’s me… your brother. Miss me?”
I don’t answer. I don’t know what to say.
“My, my… look how much you’ve grown,” he says. “Okay, not much. So tell me… what the fuck are you doing here?”
“Wow… if you weren’t dead and already in Hell
, I’d tell you you’re still an asshole,” I reply. Then I answer his question. “Balzuzu’s pissed me off. I’m here to kick his teeth in.”
He chuckles. I remember that laugh. I miss it.
“Man…” he starts, “So… you didn’t come all this way to see me.”
“Sorry, bro. I never imagined.
”
He laughs again. “You don’t ever quit do you? Damn… reminds me of the time I put a laxative in your chocolate milk then followed it up by lacing the toilet paper with itching powder. You hunted me down for three straight days, never quit looking for revenge until you finally got it by replacing the toothpaste in my tube with bird shit.”
“Took you a week to realize it too,” I proudly add.
“You gave as good as you got,” he says.
“Whatever happened when I put mayonnaise in your jock strap at school?”
“Fuck… that was you? I thought that was Bobby Larkowski after I got a blowjob from his sister.”
“Really… Tammy? She didn’t seem like the type.”
“No, not her. His older sister, Jamie Lynn,” he says.
I laugh hard. “Bobby didn’t have an older sister. Jamie’s his ma.”
“No way.
Damn, she was smokin’ hot… and very talented. I bragged about that score for weeks.”
“Do tel
l. No wonder he hated your guts,” I chuckle.
“Man… shits and giggles. Those were good times.” He pauses a moment. His tone becomes more somber.
“I saw how badly you messed up Balzuzu. Nice work.”
“Nobody fucks with the Hill brothers,” I say.
“Amen to that, brother.”