The Hell Season (25 page)

A short time later found Thomas in the living room, seated on the couch, flipping through a photo album Dana handed him as she went back into the kitchen in search of some nonperishable items for them to eat. The pictures in the album covered the past several years from Dana’s life. Her marriage. Her pregnancy. The days following the birth of her daughter. Various vacations and celebrations. Downtime spent relaxing around the house... Thomas took it all in until it was time to eat. Then he closed the book, sealed the memories once again between the pages and the thin layer of transparent plastic that both covered and protected them.

The day passed slowly, quietly, while outside the red sun ruled the sky and the heat continued to rise. Thomas relaxed on a section of the L-shaped couch reading a dog-eared, paperback sci-fi novel that served as a rather mindless diversion from the stress that seemed to have been a constant companion for too long now. Dana was curled up at the couch’s other end with a book of her own. Eventually Thomas closed the book and then his eyes. When he came to it was dark outside. Dana was asleep where she’d been reading. He covered her legs with a thin blanket that was draped over the back of the couch then walked out into the front yard.

The heat had dipped a little for which Thomas was thankful. Up above, the moon was red. Large. Menacing. He half expected it to blink, for the sky to rumble with laughter. But it didn’t happen. The world was so quiet and still. Nothing moved. Anywhere. He felt frozen in the moment, as though the universe and everything in it had wound down like an old clock. Like time itself had ceased to exist. The last particle of sand had fallen through the hourglass and there was no one to turn it over, to start it running again. Now he and Dana and all the other survivors back at the Wal-Mart would be stuck here in this dark and dead place, forever.

He took a deep breath, turned and went back inside. Returning the couch, he managed to find sleep once again.

In the morning he felt tired, like he hadn’t slept much if at all. Vague dream images followed him into wakefulness, fleeting visions of alien worlds, sinister jungles and towering cities through which he walked, utterly alone, overpowering feelings of uncertainty and dread his only companions.

“You don’t look so good,” Dana told him from where she stood next to the couch looking down at him.

“I’m fine,” he said then slowly got to his feet, searching for the strength to face another day.

With nothing better to do, they set out that morning to test the perimeter again. They drove north to a place where they saw a post that marked the barrier, placed there weeks earlier when they had set forth in a group with the same purpose in mind. The barrier was still there. Thomas had volunteered to be the one to walk into it. As anticipated, the twisting, sickening sensation assaulted him, like having every molecule of his body rearranged and then put hastily back into the proper order again. Dana was there beside him, hand on his arm, helping him up to his feet. He felt disoriented, slightly nauseous. Nothing new there. But…

“It’s not as bad,” he said, wiping at his eyes and the tears that had formed there.

“What?”

“For a moment I felt as though I might make it, that I might pass through to the other side and keep on going. It feels… weaker somehow.”

Dana repeated the experiment with similar results and came away with a similar impression.

They drove off and found a couple of other places where the wooden posts marked the invisible shield. Each time Thomas entered the barrier he felt that he
just… might… make it
… But then he’d find himself turned around, on his knees and gasping for air. The barrier was weaker, he was sure of it, but not yet weak enough. Still… It gave him a reason to hope.

They returned to Dana’s house, stayed inside for the rest of the day. Thomas had seen enough of that blood red sun. Eventually night fell. The world cooled off, if just a bit. Quiet. So quiet.

*

They parked in the sprawling lot before the Wal-Mart and walked over toward the dome where, it seemed, most everyone had already gathered.

Saturday the eleventh.

September
the eleventh.

Not too hard to find the significance of the date. Was another disaster waiting to strike? Thomas felt his mouth go dry at the thought. People were talking in strained voices all around him, waving their hands to accentuate their points. They were nervous, obviously anxious to see what was in store for them. Understandably so, given what they’d been through so far.

Dana spotted Tanya and they were walking toward her when Thomas heard his name shouted. He turned and saw Ron standing near the edge of the crowd, a pair of demons next to him. The man was well dressed for the occasion, whatever the occasion might turn out to be. He wore a tuxedo. A
red
tuxedo. Red top hat. Gleaming black shoes and a black cane upon which he leaned with what appeared to be feigned nonchalance in Thomas’s opinion. It was a getup that would have elicited laughter from Thomas if there wasn’t something so odd and disturbing about it given the circumstances.

“Let me see what this is all about,” he said to Dana before making his way over to where Ron was waiting.

“Follow me,” said Ron and he turned with a flourish, a move Thomas found himself associating with Gene Wilder’s performance as Willy Wonka in the classic movie, and led the way over to the repair shop, the demons falling into step behind them.

At the shop, Ron opened the door, motioned for Thomas to enter. “After you.” Once inside he closed the door leaving the demons outside. They went into the office where Ron asked Thomas to take a seat. He did. Ron paced back and forth for a minute or more, filled with a wild, pent up energy of his own. And then it all came blurting out:

“It’s a test run. All of it. A test run for the end times. The
real
end times. Just to make sure it all goes right, that everything goes according to plan. Because, you see, even God couldn’t get things right the first time around. Not even close. So many worlds… So many universes… Each one a little bit closer to the way he wanted it. Building a world, a universe, it’s quite the undertaking, as I’m sure you can imagine. And nobody’s perfect. Not even God, contrary to popular belief. So he makes a universe. And when he looks at it he says, ‘Oh, no, no, no, that will never do.’ Maybe the gravitational force is just a bit too strong. Or too weak. Or the rate of entropy isn’t quite right. The speed of light a little bit off. You see? And the whole thing kinda falls apart and it’s back to the drawing board. He does this, oh, a few million times. Each time it gets a little better. Each time it comes a little bit closer to the perfection he holds within his mind. Until, toward the end, it’s just the little details. ‘Orange skies? What was I thinking? Green oceans? I must have been crazy. Not here, not in this world where these little playthings of mine, these human beings are going to live.’ And so he tweaks it. And tweaks it. Until…
Voila!
It’s all just right. Like in the story about the three bears. Not too hot and not too cold. Sure, God may have been able to create the universe, the one that you’re familiar with, in seven days time. But, trust me, he had a lot of practice leading up to it.”

Now Thomas almost did laugh. It was all too much. This… this…
crazy
man in his crazy suit telling him this crazy story. Just when he thought he’d seen and heard everything...

Ron went on: “So there are all of these unfinished universes. Some of them pretty damned close to the one in which we were born. Some of them with differences so subtle that that they cannot be discerned by the casual observer. And then this past June the twenty-first rolls around. That’s when you... and me… and them…” He gestured toward the window and the people waiting outside. “It’s when we were all pulled through. Brought here to one of God’s castoffs. To one of his mistakes. To one of the forgotten places.”

Now the man was practically hopping up and down in his excitement. Thomas could only stare in disbelief.

“You know all those stories in the Bible, in particular the ones about Lucifer and how he was cast out of Heaven? Well, they’re all true, more or less. Sure, some poetic license was taken on occasion, but the essentials are all there. Now, Lucifer and his followers, they were sent to a very special universe which God had created just for them. You would think of it as Hell. And they have been there for a very long time, completely cut off from Heaven or the universe inhabited by humankind. But these forgotten universes… They’re not so well protected. It took Lucifer and his minions a while to figure this out but if there’s one thing they’ve got, it’s time. And a purpose. A need for revenge driven by a hatred you can never truly comprehend. Once they figured out that the walls—for lack of a better term—between this universe and theirs, and then between this universe and the one humanity inhabited were not so strong… Well, that’s when they realized that it might not be impossible, after all, to one day have the revenge they so desperately longed for. But it wasn’t something they could rush into. For one thing, they had to make sure that God wasn’t watching this universe, that he had, in fact, forgotten all about it. No good would come of alerting him to the plan ahead of time. They needed to do a little experiment first. A test run. So they flexed some of their rather substantial power and had a group of people—selected through the use of some strange method that I won’t even claim to comprehend—brought here to this world. An unfinished world. A malleable world. One that could be shaped to some extent by the minds, the dreams, the memories of those who were brought here. An entire town—buildings and houses and roads and all the rest—created by the collective memory and subconscious of a group of lowly mortals. An act of God, one might say, enacted by humans, wholly unaware that they even did so. Then the torments of Hell were brought down upon them. And guess what? It all went so well that the next phase of the plan has already been set in motion. Hell will be unleashed upon God’s most beloved universe. The black dome that we have built out there ensures it. Today it all comes to fruition! Today, Hell will have its vengeance! That’s the big secret, my friend. And now, besides myself, you are the only person who knows it!”

Ron threw his arms wide like a magician who has just performed his greatest trick, what could only be described as a maniacal grin stretched across his face as he awaited the applause that was sure to follow.

Thomas shrugged. “Whatever they did to you down there… after you died… before they sent you back. It obviously scrambled your brains.”

“We’ll just have to see about that, now won’t we?” After uttering these words, Ron turned and stomped off like a chastened little boy. Thomas heard the shop’s front door open and slam closed. Then there was silence.

Thomas took a deep breath. Exhaled slowly. “Sweet Jesus,” he muttered. Then he stood and left the room, walked outside to see what the rest of this already bizarre day might bring.

*

Ron stood before the tallest of the archways, the seventh opening with the glittering roadway leading out from its ebony maw. The demons stood in rows to either side of him, occasionally flickering in and out of existence as they tended to do. A low murmuring could be heard from the group of onlookers gathered before Ron and the black dome. A nervous energy ran throughout the crowd. Thomas stood between Tanya and Dana, holding each of them by the hand.
This is it
, he thought, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. Any moment now they were going to see exactly what
it
was.

Ron raised his hands above his head, cane grasped tightly in one fist. Thomas couldn’t get over how ridiculous the man looked in his red tuxedo.
Where on Earth did he find that thing?
he had to wonder despite the queasy feeling settling into his stomach.

“If I may have your attention,” Ron said loud loud enough for his voice to carry out over the crowd. The murmuring died down. A deathly silence enveloped the area.

Ron said nothing for a time, looked out over those gathered before him, that weird grin once again twisting his mouth. The demons made no sound as they stood there flickering… flickering… Thomas could feel the sweat running down his back in the cloying morning heat. He tried to swallow, his mouth suddenly dry.

Come on, let’s get this over with
.

Along the left edge of the scarlet disk a dark indentation became visible. The indentation grew rapidly, eating its way into the sun, creating a slight but noticeable crescent there. Thomas felt the cold touch of terror trace a line down his back.
It’s being devoured
, he told himself, quite irrationally. But irrationality had ruled his existence for too long now. It was as though the past few thousand years of human civilization, all of the knowledge that had been collected throughout those long centuries, had been stripped away leaving him floundering in the absence of scientific reasoning like some prehistoric man. He was momentarily convinced that the heavens were ruled by various gods and great beasts which harbored nothing but disdain in their immortal hearts for the pathetic creatures scurrying about the surface of the world below. People cried out around him as the crescent grew and grew until half the sun had disappeared.