Once Upon a Time in Hell (15 page)

Hope looked at the saloon. "What's inside?"

"I don't know. But probably a man called Alonzo. Maybe even God."

She stared at him, not sure what to say to that.

"Don't worry," he said, "I'm sure he'll be pleased to meet you."

He led her inside the building.

T
HEY FOUND THEMSELVES
not inside the saloon but in a large room made entirely of glass.

Soldier Joe stumbled slightly as he crossed the threshold, his immediate impression being that he was stepping out into thin air. Everything was so highly polished that it was impossible to discern the lines. The walls and ceiling were clear, looking out onto sky, but below them the floor was filled with a vibrant world whose perspective changed continually. One minute they were looking down on the empty streets of Wormwood; then the view changed to empty fields; then it changed again, showing the streets of a city, though its buildings were so strange to Soldier Joe's eyes he could barely credit it as such. It was like walking out onto a riot of visual information.

At the far end of the room, reclined on a glass chair, was Alonzo. In front of him a table was laid for tea, a clear glass teapot making the brown liquid appear to float in a bubble before him. "Come in, come in!" Alonzo said, standing up. "I've been waiting for ages! I do hope the tea hasn't gone cold." He glanced at it. "If it has its easily fixed. If only everything in life was as simple as tea. Perhaps that's why I like it?"

"Alonzo?" asked Soldier Joe.

"You remember me! Excellent, that does make things easier, I was hoping you would."

He turned to Hope. "And the lovely Miss Lane of course. We haven't met but I could hardly bring one of you here without the other now could I?"

He walked forward, feet moving across that maddening floor, now showing a raging ocean, waves reaching up to wash the soles of his boots as he passed.

He took her hand, raised it to his lips and kissed it.

"I hope you don't mind meeting here," he said, sweeping his arm out across the room. "It can be somewhat disorientating to begin with but once you get the hang of it it's quite simply my favourite place in the whole Dominion."

He sat down, cross-legged on the floor and waved them over, his face suddenly like that of a jolly child. "Come and have a go!"

Slowly, Hope and Soldier Joe joined him, each lowering themselves rather unsteadily to the floor.

"I call it the observation lounge," said Alonzo, "because from here you can see every thing." He looked up and the smile on his face was smug. "Ever."

"Ever?" Hope Lane asked.

"Absolutely. Well... the future is a little unreliable naturally. You have to take things with a pinch of salt. What you see one day can be completely different the next. That's what happens when you give mortals free will." He rolled his eyes as if discussing the most basic error imaginable. He seemed to realise this was perhaps tactless, and began to back pedal. "Not that you don't deserve it. Life would be terribly dull for all concerned without it after all. If we all knew what was going to happen then where would the fun be, eh? I'm just a bit of a planner I suppose. I like to be organised."

He waved his hand over the floor and the image of the ocean blurred and began to swirl.

"Anyway, forget all that, it gets confusing. Let's start with the basics."

The view below them began to grow clearer. A birds-eye view of a caravan making its way along a dusty track. The road was lined with plane trees. In the distance a mountain range, further still the beginnings of a small town.

"And... closer," said Alonzo, pointing his palms at the floor and then sweeping them apart. As he did so, the image zoomed in and they were directly above the caravan.

"Hicks," said Hope, recognising it. "But he's dead."

"Not at this point he wasn't," said Alonzo. "This is a few months ago."

He placed his hands together, finger tips extended towards the roof of the caravan. "Let's take a peek inside, shall we?" He parted his hands and the roof of the caravan appeared to part with them, exposing the inside of the vehicle.

Solider Joe looked down on himself, curled up in the small cage that had been his home for so long. Next to him sat Hope Lane, slowly feeding him a thin-looking stew.

"Ahh," said Alonzo, "isn't she lovely? Who could have asked for better? I wonder what she's saying?" He clapped his hands and suddenly the room was filled with noise, the horses’ hooves on the trail, the rattle of the wheels, the creak of the axle.

"Eat up, Soldier Joe," Hope heard her past self say. "It's not much but it's better than nothing. I make what I can with what he gives me." They watched as she fed him another mouthful. The past Soldier Joe groaned and rolled in her arms, the stew escaping from the corner of his mouth.

"Do we have to watch this?" Soldier Joe asked. "It's awful."

Alonzo shrugged. "It's life. If you get caught up on whether things are nice or not you'll soon go mad in here. I find it's best just to take things as they come. Nothing stays the same for ever." He waved his arm over the floor again. "For example..." The view changed to a vast, white plain of snow. A small dot moved below them. Alonzo repeated the trick with his palms and zoomed in. They could now clearly see it was Soldier Joe carrying Hope Lane. "Roles switch, lives change," said Alonzo.

He swept his arm across the floor again and now it was the camp outside Wormwood viewed from a great height. Crowds were sweeping one way and then the other. At this distance it looked like corn moving in a field. Then there was the sound of gunfire. Alonzo sighed and clapped his hands, making the room silent once more. "You lot always fight if we let you."

"If you let us?" Soldier Joe looked at him, a fragment of his dream returning to him. He had been sat with this man observing the battle by the banks of the Tennessee River. The battle that had all but done for him. Alonzo had said something similar then. "You said something like that before."

"Probably," Alonzo admitted. "It's a bugbear of mine I'll admit. I wish you wouldn't kill each other all the time." He shrugged. "I know it's hard to work against human nature but there you go, we all have our ambitions. Putting an end to that is one of mine."

"An end to fighting?" asked Hope. "That's my hope. As I mentioned earlier, I'm a bit of a planner and it seems to me that with a bit of work, a little nudge here and there, we might be able to get things back on track down there."

Soldier Joe got to his feet, trying not to look down. "I don't know about any of that," he said, holding out a hand to help Hope stand. "This is all a bit beyond me."

"Nonsense," said Alonzo, jumping up. "The human mind is wonderfully elastic. It's terribly good at accepting things. He always found that. I think it rather went to His head at times."

"He?" asked Hope.

"Yes," said Alonzo, moving back over to the tea and beginning to pour out three cups.

"You know Him." He handed her a cup and then passed another to Soldier Joe.

"He's not terribly involved these days. He felt it better just to let you get on with it." He picked up his own tea and took a sip. "But my, how he still obsesses though. It's funny. When He made you we all wondered what the fuss was. You all seemed so fragile, so..." He tried to think of the word before apologetically settling on: "pointless. Sorry, I appreciate that probably sounds hurtful. Don't mean it to. It just seemed strange. For millennia there was just the two dominions, the Dominion of Circles and the Dominion of Clouds." He gestured around them, signifying that in which they were currently standing. "Then came you lot. A lazy afternoon experiment that went on to dominate everything. You're all anyone ever thinks about. And yet there you are," he pointed at the crowd beneath them, "fighting amongst yourselves and making a shoddy old fist of life, all things considered."

Hope looked at Soldier Joe. "I don't understand a word of this," she said. "I think we should go now." "Of course you understand," said Alonzo. "You just think it's beyond you so you hide from it. Stop doing yourself a disservice woman!" He laughed. "Just go with the flow."

"I've spent my entire life 'going with the flow'," she said to him, "as you well know if you've spent most of yours up here spying on me."

"Oh not just you," he replied, "I spy on everyone. Only He can claim true omnipotence but I certainly try my best. The more you know, the better you can plan." He smiled over his tea cup. "And I really have got a terribly good plan. Do you want to hear it?"

W
E WALKED THE
trail for about half an hour before the smoke and noise of a small camp came into view. The whole place reminded me of a down-at-heel circus that had forgotten to put on a show. The area of beach had been—for want of a better word—shaven of its hair to allow space for people to set up shop. I wondered whether someone had to come out every morning with a razor and strop to keep the ground trim. Tents of varying sizes and quality were dotted about, fires burned, people busied themselves. The camp thrived.

The first port of call, at Biter's insistence, was to get something to eat. It seemed like a fine idea to me, I'd been living off the old man's trail stew for days and something more substantial definitely appealed. At least it did until I saw what was on offer.

"Something hot my friend?" asked the stunted chef who bounced around behind a pair of cooking fires, shuffling skillets and squirting oil. He looked like a man who been carrying heavy weights all his life, his entire body crumpled like a squeeze box. His face was all about the straight lines, squished, flattened eyes, nose and wide, wide mouth.

"We have the freshest meat available in the whole camp," he assured us. He didn't need to, it was hanging next to him from a pair of ropes, crying.

"Maybe a slice off the thigh?" the chef suggested, showing off his large knife. "Or a whole leg if you're hungry."

"All of it!" the hanging man begged, his moustache sodden with tears and snot. "It's what I deserve!" He began sobbing again, his fat belly quivering.

"What do you think?" Biter asked. "Want to share a leg?"

"He's alive!"

"Well, yeah... for now. You prefer belly? Or rump?"

"I prefer something that's not fucking human and crying at me!"

"Oh. Well, it's not like he minds. It's what he wants after all."

"I do, I do!" the man said looking at me. "Cut me, slice me, fry me!"

"Why?"

This confused him a little. "It's punishment," he said eventually.

"For what?"

"For a life of sin!" he howled. "It's what I deserve!"

"Says who?"

"Him, mostly," said Biter. "This place is full of them. You mortals have a real problem with your lifestyles. Always wanting to be punished for things."

"Well, this is Hell."

"Yeah, and you know what they say: Hell is other people." He turned to the chef. "I'll just have some thigh please."

"Oh thank you!" the hanging man said. "Thank you!"

"No worries pal, hope it really hurts."

"It will... Oh yes it will!"

The chef began sharpening the knife. "How do you like it cooked?"

"Barely singed," said Biter. "Just crisp up the edges for me."

I wasn't going to watch, so I chased after the old man who was on the hunt for transport. "Lost your appetite?" Meridian asked, catching up with me.

"I don't like to hear my steak scream before I bite into it."

"I know what you mean. Adds sauce to most of the people you find on The Bristle, though, it's a rough area, you should watch yourself."

"What are they going to do, kill me?"

"There's worse things than dying, Elwyn, don't let your new condition go to your head."

"Yeah, well, you won't have to worry about me for much longer, will you?"

I was feeling all testy, I admit. What with the weird surroundings, the smell of cooking meat and the fact that she'd made it quite clear that she didn't intend to hang around.

Everywhere I looked I saw something disturbing. A man was piercing himself with swords in front of an applauding crowd, each one bit deeply and you could tell he was losing his stomach for it. Not least because you could see it, dangling in front of his knees.

Another stall was selling animals, packed into cages so tightly their faces were distorted by the bars. "Divining beast, sir?" the merchant asked as I passed. "Blinded at birth and ready to show you the future in their gizzards at the slip of a knife!"

"No thanks," I replied. "I think I can see my future clearly enough."

"Lucky man," he sighed, "it's all a mist to me."

"Roll up! Roll up!" called another, a massive fellow with a head the size of an apple. Fat hands held a megaphone up to its pinched little mouth, projecting his tiny voice across the crowds and noise. "Who can last in the Tank of Death? Big prizes to anyone who can go the distance!"

Next to him was what looked like a giant fishbowl, seemingly empty until you looked closer and saw a single, brightly-coloured fish darting to and fro. "I'll give it a go," said a spiky creature with deep, purple skin the colour of a bad bruise.

"What's the deal?"

"If you can stay under the water for more than thirty seconds I'll give you the memories of a mortal President—five years of ultimate power, machinations, blood and thunder! Best memories on the market."

"Alright." The creature tugged off the stained pair of bib pants it was wearing and began to climb up the set of steps next to the tank. "Get that clock running!"

He dropped into the water with a splash, holding his nose closed between pinched fingers. For a moment he just hung there, then he stuck his thumb up to show all was well. The small fish swam around him a few times then darted at him and the water was a sudden explosion of internal organs. From clear liquid to gut broth in the blink of an eye.

There was a moment of silence. A small splash. Then the water slowly turned clear again to reveal the tiny fish had grown massive on its meal. A stream of bubbles ran from its mouth and slowly it began to shrink until the whole tank was just as it had been before—clear water with a single, tiny occupant.