Hell & Beyond Read online

  I knew my choice was between darkness and a second death… or the fire.

  I stood for what seemed an eon. Was I experiencing my first aion here?

  I hesitated between past and future… between here and after… between light and darkness. More cryptic words the young man had spoken from “the Book” rose again into my consciousness.

  I will assemble the nations to pour out my wrath upon them. Nothing will satisfy my love but to see them all, every one, pure and perfect, as I am pure and perfect. The sin of the whole world will be consumed by the fire of my righteous anger. For in my love I hate all sin. By my fire I will purify the peoples, that all of them may call on the name of the Lord. In that day I will restore and repair and heal and build them up again. I will bring back my exiled people Israel, never again to be uprooted from the inheritance I have given them. I will bring them home, and they shall be my people, and I will be their God.

  The young man’s final challenge was almost more than my brain could comprehend.

  “The fire is not our enemy,” he had said. “It is the agent of God’s work. Lay yourself on God’s altar, my brother, and beseech him with all the desperate hunger of a will that desires to be pure, and say, ‘Come, fire of God, burn me clean!’”

  The decision before me was horrifying in its stark implications. How could I make either choice?

  Then arose within me a dreadful compulsion. It was the compulsion to obey the call of the fire. It was the compulsion the lady had laid upon the boy beside the rose coals. She had compelled him. Yet he had to choose to obey. The compulsion was no forced obedience. I knew I still had my own will and that I must exercise it. In the power of my former mind, I could not rationally discern the dividing line between compulsion and freedom. Somehow in this place, the two were not exclusive but intrinsically intertwined.

  I had a choice. But however limited the sight I had thus far gained, it was at least sufficient to show me this—that I must choose it, or die everlastingly.

  I drew in a deep breath, trembling in terror… then took a small tentative step in the direction of the fire.

  Eight

  The Town of Isolation

  Suddenly everything changed. The distant flames vanished. As I ventured forward with a second step, I glanced back. The darkened sphere with the door of my potential retreat had disappeared. The absence of a visible way out caused me to tremble again. I found myself walking through open country without visible hint of habitation.

  I felt both exhausted and exhilarated, as if some new form of life was sweeping through me. It did not exactly occur to me, though I reflected upon it later, that perhaps I had just progressed through the instant when I had died in the other world. Had I been in “near death” until that moment? With the step I had taken, had I actually chosen to die?

  How could I possibly know?

  But on this side of the portal, I perceived that my first aion was complete. I also knew that it was a mere beginning. No longer would the opportunity be given me to return. I was… dead. Yet I was alive.

  The way before me led toward a vast lowland. Even with my improved eyesight, I could not see to its end. I began a long slow descent. What I saw ahead was unappealing to say the least. The few trees I saw were leafless and silent, isolated oddities in the midst of endless dirt and dust. What shrubs that grew were scraggly. The ground underfoot became rocky, gray, barren. It was like high desert, an arid wasteland where it never rained.

  As I made my way down a slope to the flatland beyond, I was astonished now by the incongruity of seeing an occasional house along the side of my way. Every one rose from the dreary landscape alone, utterly isolated from any other sign of habitation. The word house conveys an altogether erroneous impression. Most were palatial estates, huge, fabulously ornate, some that would even be called castles, every one of completely unique design and surrounded by imposing high walls and fences equally unique—wood, wrought-iron, brick, some with hedges as high as trees. I had to satisfy myself with gazing from a distance. I dared not venture closer. The mere sight of each one conveyed the unmistakable message: Go away. Visitors not welcome.

  I walked and walked, for days it seemed, though no night ever fell, nor did fatigue overtake me. I must have covered fifty, a hundred, perhaps two hundred miles. Gradually the unusual dwellings increased as I went. By degrees they came to be situated closer together. Whereas at first I saw one or two in a day—or what might have been a day—now I encountered a house every half-mile or so. In time they were spaced as close as two hundred yards apart. I realized that I must be coming to a town. Whatever kind of place it was, its size was obviously enormous. I had been passing houses, mansions, estates, castles, for days.

  As I continued past what I took for the outskirts, the houses were not nearly so lavish and palatial. Still each one was surrounded by a high fence or barricade. I saw no gardens or flowers, a strange fact given the apparent wealth that had gone into creating the homes. The hedges here were overgrown and weeds sprouted everywhere, the lawns brown and unkempt. The streets, potholed and cracked, were littered with dirt and trash. What windows I was able to see were covered, though occasionally I detected a ruffling of curtains. I had the eerie feeling that my movements were being watched.

  The houses continued to grow simpler in structure until I passed many of what would be called antiquated design. Eventually I found myself walking through a congested city, though unbelievably old-fashioned. It was like walking backward in time. The further I progressed, the older were the houses. Some appeared ancient, even a thousand years old. I recognized the architecture from books of history of the middle ages. I passed hundreds of stone cottages with thatched roofs, then these gave way to yet smaller houses of clay brick whose tops were spread with animal skins and branches.

  I made my way deeper into the conglomeration of dwellings. It was a destitute and dreary place, gray, empty, cold, silent. Even as I walked through its streets, a pall as of wintry dusk settled over me. Before that moment, the long endless day of my trek had been warm and bright. Now I began to shiver.

  On I walked. The city spread out endlessly in all directions. I saw no sign of life. Except for the occasional movement behind curtained windows, the houses seemed unoccupied. There were no stores or shops or businesses, no markets or tradesmen’s workshops, no warehouses, no sign whatever of commerce or transportation or any manner of human exchange—only streets extending in every direction. I tried several of these, turning from one into another any number of times. I covered enormous distances, but everywhere it was the same—endless rows of lifeless houses. Not a soul was to be seen.

  Maybe this is purgatory, I thought to myself. If so, at least on the outskirts, they lived pretty well. Some of the mansions I had passed were unimaginably opulent. I had always thought of purgatory as a sort of hell on training wheels. Of course, I hadn’t believed in hell, either. But when I considered the concept of purgatory, my impression had been of a scaled-down version of hell. I must have been wrong. This looked more or less tolerable… except for the gloomy sense of desolation. It was a place of live death—a city of unlife.

  On I went, up and down the empty streets, back and forth, this way and that, probably retracing my steps a dozen times, moving now out of the most ancient cottages and coming into a part of town that appeared to have been built during the Renaissance. I gazed up and down every street, looking for any sign of humanity. I was still uncertain what I was supposed to be doing, whether I was intended to be going somewhere. Up till now my way had been shown me.

  It was far too quiet. Eerily and preternaturally quiet.

  At long last, far ahead, I saw someone. I quickened my pace and hurried on.

  As I drew closer, a woman came into focus. She was standing at the intersection of two narrow boulevards facing away from me. I thought at first that she must be my next guide. As I drew closer, however, I realized that she was not expecting me. She seemed to be waiting, but not for me. I had no idea
of her age. From behind, her head flowed with luxuriant light brown hair showing no speck of gray.

  She heard my steps approaching and turned. We were both obviously shocked at the sight of one another. I was stunned at her age and the positive ugliness of her face. I had never seen such a horrible-looking woman. She must have known my thoughts. She recoiled slightly. I could not tell whether it was embarrassment for her looks or anger at my reaction. I had the feeling, however, that she was simply shocked to see another human. I had not been here long enough to be able to tell exactly what she was thinking.

  “You’ve come for the bus too, have you?” she said.

  “Uh… no,” I replied. “I was just walking and came to this town. What bus?”

  “They say a bus comes through every fifty years that takes people out of this place. I don’t know where it comes. But these are the biggest streets in town so I thought I would wait here. I’ve never seen a bus. I don’t exactly know what it is.”

  “You don’t know what a bus is?” I said in surprise.

  “No. I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

  “It is a long vehicle designed to carry thirty or forty passengers, like a large van.”

  “A van? I don’t know what that is either.”

  “Do you know what a car is?”

  “I’m afraid not. But you say the thing called a bus carries people?”

  I nodded. “Yes—big groups of people.”

  “That makes sense then,” said the woman. “That’s exactly how the rumor goes—that it picks up the people who are waiting.”

  “And you’ve been waiting fifty years?” I said.

  “I haven’t been here all that time. But to get out of here, I would wait a thousand. What is time when you’re alone but a lengthening of misery? I’ve already been here so many years—you lose count, you know—another fifty is a small matter.”

  “Where does the bus go?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. To the other place, I think. It’s all hearsay, you understand. Someone told me about it shortly after I got here, though I paid no attention at the time. I’ve never talked to anyone who has actually seen it. I haven’t talked to anyone in two hundred years or more. I just want out of here.”

  “Why are you so anxious to leave?”

  “Look at me. Look at what I’ve become. The moment you laid eyes on me, you thought, That’s the ugliest woman I ever saw in my life. Wouldn’t you want to get out of a place that does this to you?”

  I had no answer. “I suppose so,” I said lamely.

  “Before last year,” she went on, “I had no idea what I looked like. There are no mirrors here, you understand. Mirrors are for looking at yourself. That’s the one thing no one in this town wants to do. I certainly didn’t want any mirrors in my house when I got here. So I didn’t know what I had become. I used to be beautiful—back then, you know.”

  “In your, uh… former life, you mean?”

  “I was a prostitute, if you must know. What does it matter? There are no secrets here. They said I was the most beautiful woman in three countries. Kings paid for my services. Then I died of the plague and came here. I was still beautiful, I thought, though no one cared. No one cares about anything here. Everyone keeps to themselves. That’s the way they want it. If I could have had mirrors that just showed my face, I would have filled my house with mirrors. Looking at how beautiful I was might have made the time go more easily. But the mirrors here are different. They show what’s inside, not just what you look like. No one wants those kinds of mirrors here. They’re terrified of them.

  “Then, a year or two ago, the sun was just so that it turned one of my windows into a looking glass. There’s nothing to do, so you peek out your windows to see if anyone’s about, you know. It’s a way to pass the time. I had been peering outside because I thought I saw a new arrival. Instead, I caught a glimpse of my face in the glass. I saw a monster, an ugly old hag staring back at me. The horror of it was indescribable. It can’t be me! I thought. But it was! And I knew I was looking at more than my face—I was looking at an ugly soul. I tried to cry. But the ability to shed tears had gone with my beauty. I hated myself.

  “For the first time since I came here, I began to recall faint memories—someone once told me that there was a place where you could be made clean and where you could get rid of the pain that gnaws at the heart from being alone. That’s when I decided to wait for the bus.”

  “I don’t know about the bus,” I said. “But I was told about a great pit of fire you have to endure before you can be clean?”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I was told after I arrived here.”

  “A pit of fire…” she said slowly. A thoughtful look came over her face. She seemed to be remembering something from long ago.

  “Now that you remind me,” she said, “I seem to recall something about it. I think perhaps I was told the same thing. It’s been so long. I had forgotten. I’m not sure I like the idea of the fire.”

  “They say it’s the only way to get rid of what’s wrong with us.”

  “What’s… wrong? Sin, you mean?”

  “I suppose.”

  “I was a sinner all right,” she said with a laugh, though there was no humor in her tone. “But who wasn’t? Your memory seems keener than mine. How long have you been here?”

  “Not long. Only a few days. At least I think so. It’s all about aions here, not time.”

  “Aions?” she repeated. Again she grew thoughtful. “That sounds familiar too. I think I was told the same thing. But thought of the fire was too dreadful. I couldn’t bear it.”

  “What did you do?”

  “It’s all so distant now. It happened long ago. I don’t actually remember. I think I was led into a wood… yes, I remember now—it was in autumn. The trees were gorgeous yellows and reds and oranges. I was told about the fire. Then everything disappeared. I was with somebody who explained it all. He had been sent, he said, to tell me about the aions and the choice I must make. Then he disappeared too. Only the path was left. I saw nothing else. I was left alone with my decision. But I couldn’t stand the thought of it. There was a fork in the path ahead of me. I knew which way led to the fire. So I went the other direction.”

  “Didn’t he tell you that you must choose the fire?”

  “I think so, now that you mention it. But he said the choice was mine. I thought to myself, How bad could the other way be? It had to be better than the fire. So I ended up here. Are you… really on your way to the fire?”

  “I don’t know,” I answered. “I think perhaps. I don’t know if I will have the courage to endure it. I don’t quite yet know where I am going. What is your name?” I asked.

  “Lelia,” she replied. “And yours?”

  I told her.

  “When did you die?”

  “In the twenty-first century.”

  “Oh, then you are much younger than me,” she said. “No wonder you remember so well.”

  “Why don’t you come with me, Lelia?” I said.

  “Where to… not to the fire?” She trembled as she said the word.

  “I don’t know where I will find myself next,” I answered. “But I am not going to stay in this town. There is no life here.”

  “I might go with you,” she said. “But what about the bus?”

  “You said yourself, you didn’t know when it would come. You might still have forty-five years to wait. It’s probably not coming soon. Otherwise there would be more people about. If you miss it, you can catch the next one fifty years later.”

  “Maybe I will at that,” she said. “It’s nice to have someone to talk to for a change.”

  Nine

  A New Guide Explains

  I turned away from the intersection and began walking the way I thought might lead out of town with Lelia at my side. She looked her age—five hundred years if a day. But she was as spry as I was and walked along without the least trouble. Only her face seemed to have
been affected by the passage of time.

  Remarkably, within what seemed like minutes, the town began to fade behind us. The houses in this direction became scattered at greater distances. Within a short time we were walking in open countryside on a lovely spring day. Leaves sprouted on the trees. The grass and shrubbery all around was again green. The pall of the sky above had been replaced by a brilliant blue.

  I found my spirits lifted. The town had been oppressive. We chatted easily as we went, telling one another—with much regret from both of us—about our former lives. The time flew by. It was invigorating to talk to one like myself who had been a sinner and knew it. There were no barriers, no secrets, no illusions between us.

  It was not long before we were met. A man approached in the distance. He was of ruddy complexion, of thinning hair and dressed in frumpy ill-fitting tweeds. He looked anything but an athlete. He walked with a spring in his step, however, as if he were on a walking tour, which I later learned had been one of his favorite former pastimes. A great smile spread over his face as he came up to us. I was surprised to realize that I knew where he had come from. Perhaps my senses were acclimating to my new existence more than I thought. I perceived that I was able to distinguish between those who had come from the Mountains and those who had not. The look on their faces was entirely different. The smile on this man’s face was radiant. He could have come from nowhere but the Mountains!

  Having been met several times already, I merely assumed that he had come as my next guide. I was surprised, therefore, when instead he walked straight to Lelia and greeted her warmly.

  “You have been expected,” he said. “I have been sent to help you with your next crossroads now that you have made the decision to leave the living death of isolation behind you.”

  “What decision?” she said.

  “To leave your house for the bus stop.”