A Handicap of the Devil? (22 page)

"WHERE ARE THEY?"

Miss Bloomingdale got very upset by this and burst into tears. She was consoled by the Detective Sergeant, who rather liked the look of her. He decided to look her up at a later date. Neither of them farted at this first meeting, which was a blessing for everyone else in the office.

The police searched the entire building thoroughly and turned up nothing. They figured that Jonathan and his band must have somehow slipped out the fire escape door in the few minutes before the police had sealed it off.

The police left, with Detective Sergeant James telling Jones P. senior that he expected to hear if Jonathan and his friends returned. The Detective Sergeant tried a smile on Miss Bloomingdale as he went out. He was not used to smiling. It came out as a sort of twisted grimace, leaving her with the distinct impression that he suspected her of having done something nasty. She tucked into half a left over pineapple, even though it was late afternoon, while she considered what the portly policeman might suspect her of.

Jones P. senior wasted no time at all. He went into his office as soon as the police left and began to phone and e-mail selected lawyers. The lawyers were instructed to muster in his office as soon as they possibly could. He then went back into the main office and told everyone that in view of the upsetting events of the afternoon they could all have an early minute. The staff, who were not upset at all, gratefully accepted the two hours off and fled from the building as quickly as they could pack up for the day.

Miss Bloomingdale wondered why she was a suspect. She was so put out by the leering Detective Sergeant that she stopped at a café on her way home and devoured two large cream buns and a custard tart.

"That's such a lazy trumpet player,” said Cowley after they had recovered their stomachs.

"I dunno. Could be pretty cool if you were stoned enough.” The dwarf feigned a nonchalance he did not feel.

"Where's this thing taking us? We're sure as hell past the top floor by now.” There was a slight edge of panic in Sampson's voice. No one answered, and they settled down to pass the time with Herb and the band.

After a long time they felt the elevator begin to slow. It was as though a cushion of air had developed outside, slowing their progress with stomach lurching and ear popping consequences.

At last the lift came to a stop, and the doors slid open. Herb switched off as the beautiful, rolling vista of heaven appeared.

"Whoa, look at this place.” The dwarf was gob smacked.

"Wooby woobah, so cool.” Sampson was over his earlier fright.

"Smell the air,” said Marcie.

Cowley was lost and speechless in the wonder of it all.

People and animals were passing by on clouds just the same as the first time Jonathan had been there. Harp music was heard from a number of different harps, but there was no conflict in the sound as it blended harmoniously. Somewhere in the distance a pipe organ was playing, and a very beautifully voiced choir was singing. The air smelt fresh, and the blue sky had a few puffy white clouds in it. The sense of peace and wellbeing was manifest.

Jonathan had only been there once, and that first time he was transported directly to and from the Gazebo where God and St. Peter lived. Now he looked about him trying to get his bearings. The elevator had come to rest in a clearing in a park that looked remarkably like Adelaide's Botanic Gardens. Leafy trails went through manicured gardens that were in excellent order.
Someone really knows how to maintain gardens here. I wonder what composting methods they use?

In the near distance they could see animals of every variety and species grazing contentedly. Some of the animals had been extinct on Earth for centuries. A Tasmanian tiger loped past closely followed by a possum and a giant wombat. They seemed to be playing games with one another and all looked curiously at the humans as they passed. Two white rabbits hopped past and into the trees ignoring the people entirely.
Some things are the same up here as they are on Earth,
thought Jonathan.

They moved through the park as Jonathan looked for signs of the gazebo. At various intervals they came across fountains and small lakes where water birds floated. A small river ran through the gardens and beautiful sculptures and statues were much in evidence. There were glass-fronted conservatories containing exotic and beautifully coloured flowers, herbs, vines and ferns. Several multi-coloured peacocks and lyrebirds danced across the paths showing their brilliant display of tail feathers. The mortals heard the laughter of children echo around the gardens as they came upon a building with modern, space age architecture that carried a sign outside stating:

WINE TASTINGS DAILY.

They went inside and found racks of bottles of wonderful vintages. Angels stood behind counters ready to pour wine to be tasted, and there was no trace of a wine cask. Jonathan hurried them out without anyone succumbing to the temptation to loiter and taste the wine. Their world had to be saved and they were in a hurry. There would be good time to taste the fruits of heaven at a later date.

They saw no people, but many animals passed them as they walked and some came up and sniffed them. Jonathan was enjoying the walk, but was starting to despair of ever finding the gazebo, when the dwarf spotted a sign with the legend,

TO THE GAZEBO

emblazoned on it. They took the path indicated by the sign and soon saw the strange, windowless structure in the distance.

Jonathan led them to the gazebo, and there they found a note on the door written in a big untidy scrawl,
Out for awhile, leave a note if it's important.
It was signed by God. Underneath there was a P. S. written in a small, neat hand,
sorry about the mess, Peter.

A large cloud containing four women wearing white, blue, pink and gold shifts floated near them. The woman in the white shift, who was the largest of the foursome, hailed them.

"Are you looking for God?"

"Have you any idea how long he might be?” Jonathan called back.

"Hard to say,” shouted pink shift, as she stopped her harp playing. “If they've gone shopping they could be forever. Peter can never make up his mind what he wants. Drives God crazy."

The woman in blue contradicted her friend, “I think they've gone to the rugby."

"The game they play in heaven.” Sampson smiled.

"If you want to get your wings, the wing distribution store is just over that hill,” called the large woman in white. “You can get an optional harp there too."

"Good luck and we'll see you around.” The woman in gold called as the cloud floated away.

"The colour of those shifts is divine. I've never seen material with such rich colours.” Marcie was enthused.

"Always fancied myself in a pair of wings.” Sampson flapped his arms at Jonathan.

Jonathan turned to the large, black man. “Don't get any funny ideas. You have to be dead to get wings."

"You see anywhere it says that?"

"No point being up here,” said Cowley. “No dope."

"Who cares.” The dwarf was still gob smacked. “This is like being stoned big time."

"Whatever you decide, I'm getting in that elevator and I'm going back to Earth. I still have a mission to perform and I thought you were all with me."

"Hey, chill out, Johnno. We're with you, man. It was just an idea. It's sooooo ... peaceful up here.” Sampson stooped to smell the delicate aroma of some yellow roses that grew in the manicured gardens around the gazebo. “This place is just ... well, it's just."

"Heavenly.” Cowley's finished Sampson's sentence for him.

Jonathan turned back to face them all. They were clustered around the gardens, looking at various bits of flora and fauna. “We have this ahead of us if we do what we have to do back on Earth. Otherwise I'm not so sure. Last time I was here God let me know that they hadn't admitted anyone for a couple of centuries because everything was such a mess on Earth. If we succeed we'll be doing the entire human race a huge favour."

"Well, the good ones anyway,” responded Marcie.

Sampson left his roses and moved back to the gazebo. “Seeing that we can't contact God no way, why don't we leave him a note telling him what's up?"

"That's a very good idea, Sampson. Anyone got a pen and some paper?” Everyone felt his or her pockets, but no one had anything to write with or on.

"There's some stuff on that desk in there,” the dwarf pointed out.

Jonathan went in, feeling rather like a burglar. The place was immaculate and smelt of carpet shampoo.
Sorry about the mess?
He quickly wrote a note outlining the problems they were having trying to convince anyone on Earth that they were for real. Once again he asked God to grant him the power to perform miracles as a means to convince people. Jonathan signed the note and left it in the middle of the floor. St. Peter's finicky eye would spot it as soon as he and God entered.

Jonathan was annoyed. What was the point to God telling him to come up and see him any time he had a problem and then not being in when he did? Why didn't anyone know where he was? It seemed an inefficient way to run Heaven. How had God managed with such lackadaisical methods all this time? It was maddening not to be able to find God when you really needed him.

They returned to the elevator, and Sampson punched the down button. The doors closed with their usual hiss, and Val Doonigan began to croon as they plummeted through space. This time the speed was even greater than on the up journey, and it went on a lot longer.

"What's going on?” muttered the dwarf. “We must be there by now."

"Don't tell me we've missed the Earth.” Cowley was frightened. They were all frightened as the trip went on and on, but nobody said any more.

Jonathan remembered God's admonition not to press the ‘down’ button under any circumstances and wondered how else they could have returned to Earth from heaven. If God had happened to be at home he could have let them know.

Finally the elevator began to slow, and eventually it came to a stop. The doors slid open, cutting Val off in the middle of a line that sounded much like the several thousand lines that had gone before. The scene was of a golf course, and they all got out with some trepidation. It was a lush and green golf course with thick bushes lining either side of the fairway. There were no birds, and the air was warm and soupy with a slight smell of sulphur in the air.

"Are we in Queensland?” Cowley looked about her.

"Perhaps we might have gone to a different part of heaven?” Jonathan timidly suggested.

"Maybe...” The dwarf was cut off as a golf ball whacked into the side of the elevator. The loudest most obscene string of obscenities any of them had ever heard followed this. A furry figure with pointed ears and a long spiky tail ran over the hill and looked down at them.

"My ball hit that fucking elevator. I've told you and fucking told you, don't put the fucking thing on the fucking fairway. That'll cost me a fucking shot. You are all fucking dead meat.” A jet of flame shot from the creature's mouth and the tree next to them burst into flame. This was immediately followed by a series of lightning strikes—which destroyed a hedgerow and blasted a bunker—turning the sand within instantly to glass.

"Run,” shouted Sampson, and they all took to their heels over the next hill that fortunately wasn't too far away. Sampson carried the dwarf.

"Saboteurs,” came the Devil's bellow from behind them. “I'll get you. You can't hide from me. I know this course like the back of my hand. Come out from where you're hiding and let me vaporise you. Another stroke? I've taken seven fucking strokes on this hole already and you will suffer for what you've done."

"Takes his golf seriously,” whispered the dwarf inside the thicket in which they had found shelter.

"Shut up,” whispered back the others.

The Devil stormed, raged and shouted as they cowered in the middle of the thicket. The air was full of the smells of brimstone and of something rotten, like long dead pork in the sun. Eventually Satan calmed down enough to issue a final series of threats and left. He placed two former golf champions as sentries near the lift. They were on pain of vaporisation if they let the elevator go with the people who had cost him a shot.

The five very frightened live people watched as Satan addressed the ball with his seven iron for his next shot. He missed completely with his first two shots, topped the ball with his next, and finally managed to hit the ball ten yards down the fairway with his next.

The dwarf looked on with gathering interest at this display. “Hmmmm, transfers the weight too slowly from one foot to the other. Swing's a fraction short and probably should use a five instead of a seven from there at his level of ability."

"You play golf?” Jonathan was genuinely amazed.

"No handicap when I stopped."

"A dwarf with a wooden leg and one eye who has no handicap. That's good.” The dwarf ignored Sampson.

"If you were that good, why did you stop?” The back of Jonathan's head ached slightly in remembrance of the five-iron application.

"Everyone kept mistaking him for a golf tee."

The dwarf glared up at Sampson. “I stopped because no bastard ever took me seriously. That and I had to have specially made clubs. It all got too hard."

They were silent as the Devil once again addressed the ball and hit his next shot straight into the water hazard. He went off foaming at the mouth to drop out at the expense of another shot.

"Pretty hopeless case.” The dwarf sniggered as they watched the tyrant throw another tantrum at the waterside.

"Was that who I thought it was?” shuddered Cowley.

"I think it might have been,” returned Sampson.

None of them felt particularly happy at that moment.

"He's left two of his helpers to guard the lift. What are we going to do?” Jonathan was more frightened than anyone else. His was a mission from God to help rid the world of evil once and for all, and here he was in the lair of the Devil. What would happen if the Devil realised who he was? “We simply have to get that lift back, and we don't know if those golf pros have any supernatural powers. They might zap us or something. Anyone got any ideas?” They all looked blankly back at him. “Come on, let's put our heads together. There must be a way."