The Final Winter: An Apocalyptic Horror Novel(70)
Harry raised an eyebrow. “A Hell so bad that it was made to torture the Devil himself?”
Lucas nodded and seemed upset by the thought of it. “Aye, they call it…The Abyss.”
Harry took that information in and held onto it. The Abyss. The darkest, most desperate level of hell that is fit only for the Devil himself. A place of torture beyond anything a man could imagine. Okay, got it.
“Lucas,” Harry said. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you and I sincerely hope that the Abyss never claims you. Sounds strange to say, but I think you might actually be one of the good guys.”
Lucas laughed. “I have many names, but that’s a first.”
Harry shook the Devil’s hand and walked away, leaving his candle on the bar and entering the darkness.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Harry opened The Trumpet’s door and looked out over the landscape. The blizzard had finally begun to die down, its job almost completed. The world had been rendered featureless. Everywhere Harry looked was pure-white and buried beneath giant snow banks. Across the street, the tops of buildings were just about visible, but their doorways were covered up past their tops. Harry had a feeling that Lucas had something to do with The Trumpet not yet being buried.
At the bottom of the hill stood the Angels, lined up and stretching on forever like the Great Wall of China.
Although that’s probably buried along with everything else. The world’s greatest achievements reduced to featureless, white, nothingness.
Harry hailed them. “I’m coming over. I give up, okay?”
The blond Angel in the centre – Michael? – nodded. Then he lifted his arms out in front of him and shot fire.
“Hey!” Harry protested. “I said I’m coming!”
Harry thought he was about to get fried but soon realised that wasn’t Michael’s intention. In front of him the steps had been cleared of snow, melted by a rapidly disappearing river of fire. “Oh, er…cheers.”
Harry took the newly uncovered steps slowly, in no rush to test out the theory he had in his head.
I guess time doesn’t mean much when you’re eternal
The Angels stood patiently, seemingly happy to wait for him. Michael had taken a step forward, exiting the line. When Harry reached the bottom of the steps, he saw that Michael was smiling reassuringly, like a Dentist about to perform a root canal.
“Welcome, Sinner,” said Michael in a far softer voice than he had in the previous instances when Harry had heard him speak. His presence was no less awesome.
“Can we just use ‘Harry’ for now, yes?”
“As you wish, Harry Jobson.”
“Just ‘Harry’ is fine…you know, don’t worry about it.”
Michael bowed his head at Harry as if there was a great pity that he was forced to acknowledge. It made Harry angry, but he couldn’t let it distract him.
“Are you ready? It is time.” said the Angel.
“I just have a couple of questions to ask first.”
Michael looked at him and something that Harry thought was anger streamed through the archangel’s eyes.
Obviously, The Angel of Death doesn’t appreciate being delayed by a mere mortal. I bet he thinks it’s ‘impertinent’.
Harry wanted to laugh in the Angel’s face.
Michael seemed to calm himself as he spoke again. “Ask your questions quickly, Sinner.”
There’s that word again. Fucker!
Harry nodded, also wanting to hurry things along, before he lost his nerve. “After what I did; after I committed the….final sin, or whatever, it condemned everyone to Hell, right?”
Michael nodded.
“Do you think that’s fair?”
Michael was visibly annoyed. “It is His will.”
Harry nodded. “Right, right, didn’t think appealing to your better nature would work, so I guess I should skip straight to plan B.”
“Plan B?” Michael repeated, confused.
“Yeah, I want to make a deal.”
Michael exploded, but managed to do so without moving an inch. He seemed to oppress the air around him. “YOU DO NOT MAKE DEALS WITH AN AGENT OF HEAVEN. YOUR WILL IS INCONSEQUENTIAL TO HIS DECISIONS. YOU WILL OBEY, SINNER.”
“Okay, okay, but my final wish is just that you hear me out. If He ignores my offer then so be it and I will take what comes to me.”
Michael begun laughing and Harry was disturbed by how much like a child it sounded. “Okay, mortal, I will allow you to amuse me. Speak your deal.”
Okay, here goes.
“Send me to the Abyss.” Michael actually seemed to flinch at the suggestion and Harry hoped that it was a good sign. “Don’t send me to whatever Hell I deserve, send me to the Hell that no man deserves. Send me there and leave me there forever.”
Michael seemed to soften, no longer angry. It almost seemed like he was suddenly in awe of Harry. “You speak of things that you could never hope to understand, Harry Jobson. The Abyss is a punishment befitting no man. Why would you ask for such endless suffering?”
“I’ll tell you, but first let me know, can it be done? Can you send me there?”
Michael nodded. “Yes.”
“Then my offer is that you send me to the Abyss in exchange for all of the souls that have been damned to Hell since I murdered Thomas Morris. Save Steph, Jess, Jerry, and all the other people that don’t deserve Hell and instead send me to the Abyss to pay for humanity’s sin. Will my torture there outweigh the debt needed by sparing these people?”