Awake in Hell (15 page)

I
look at
Deedy
, with a pleading and pitiable look and
say through my still flowing tears, “Will it be dangerous?”

“Perhaps.”
he answers frankly. “But that’s where you have to trust that I would never send
you somewhere hopeless. Follow my directions and you will come out fine.”

“Then,
that’s enough for me.” I say with a trembling voice that does not portray any
of the assuredness my statement tries to convey.

“Go
home, darling girl, and get some sleep. Tomorrow, everything will seem brighter,”
Deedy
says, with a sense of finality that actually
rouses me out of my chair.

Out
in sweltering heat of the streets of Hell, I cannot imagine that is true. In
reality, I cannot imagine anything regarding tomorrow. Every time my thoughts
turn to tomorrow and the events that will, or may occur, I have to stop and
shove them out before I start screaming in the street.

Because
tomorrow, I start the hardest job ever.  The one job I would have thought
would always be saved for someone so much worse than I. A job only the truly
damned could do.

Tomorrow,
I start at a Day Care Center.

Tonight,
sleep is an escape fraught with images, all very disjointed, yet pleasant. None
seem to
gel
into a story. It’s like a montage of all
my favorite things and faces. Mom leaning over my bed with her eyes full of
love as I am dying; dad throwing his head back in laughter; Bobby smiling at me
and grabbing my hand; Linda and I driving down the highway singing at the top
of our lungs to the radio; a bouncing red ball against the sidewalk; the feel
of rain on my face. You would not believe how much you miss rain in Hell.

Suddenly,
my alarm goes off. It feels sooner than it usually does, entirely too soon. I’m
not ready for this day to begin. I have a small argument with myself. What if I
just don’t go? Really? Are you ready to say goodbye to
Deedy
and any chance of redemption? C’mon, Lou. Just get up and face it. The sooner
the day starts, the sooner it ends and hopefully it ends with a termination
slip. Just go, do something fabulous, and wait to get fired.

In
the meantime, I have to wrap my head around these children. These
demonesque
creatures, the scariest of the scary in the
entire
Hellverse
, becoming my charges. The thought of
it drives me into my small bathroom retching with dread and terror. I emerge a
few minutes later trying to wipe the taste of bile out of my mouth. I make my
way over to the closet and open it without the same apprehension that normally
goes with it. Today, I have bigger fish to fear. As soon as I open the door, I
burst into laughter. This is the true genius of the closet in Hell, to make me
laugh on the single most terrifying morning of my entire afterlife. For hanging
in said closet, is my bridesmaid dress. The dress I told
Deedy
about yesterday. Is that a coincidence or is it more? I don’t know, but I am
actually comfortable with the familiarity of it, and of course, with the
memories it brings fresh to my battle-worn mind. I close my eyes and imagine
Linda standing in front of me and with tears in her eyes she looks at me and
says, “Thank you for this.”

I
look at her with my mind’s eye and say out loud, “Thank you, for everything.”

As
I start my walk to the address on the sticky note, I’m totally unaware of the
others around me. My legs are getting heavier and my gait is lumbered and slow.
I am thinking I may be sick again, when I see the center looming, just ahead.
Looking around, I realize that other than the center, the street is empty. No
other business, no homes. But, of course, who would want to live next to this?
Even in Hell, it is probably important to keep these demons out of the general
population, as much as possible. However, it does seem like a bit of a kindness
to the rest of us, considering where we are. We are all Hellions. None of us
have a different future than any of these poor, small creatures. So, out of
logical thought or perhaps avoidance of my immediate future, I also ponder my
own fate. Why am I here, standing on an empty street, in the boondocks of Hell?
Why am I being punished so harshly? Was it that over-confidence,
Deedy
spoke of? Is this the end of the line, when you are
fired from every other temp job, or are the sins of my life to be paid for in
death? But, if I’ve learned anything about anything in
Deedy’s
little job corps, it is that my life was filled with some good, too. Why make
me remember the good, if this is my only option, to play babysitter for horror
personified?

This
makes me angry. Which is good.   It is what I finally need to drive
me through the front door and enter the day care center. As I swing open the
door, I catch a reflection in the shiny glass that takes my breath away and
makes me feel a bit faint. Will, attempting to be clandestine, is about a half
a block behind me. He really is terrible at the whole hiding thing. But I’m so
glad that he’s here! First, it means that
Deedy
isn’t
so mad at me to throw me out here without any protection and second, it may be
the only friendly face I get to see here today. It’s with that small comfort
that I enter the center.

It
is incredibly quiet inside. Like, this is what folks mean when they say, ‘It
was too quiet’. I had never really understood that phrase before. Primarily,
due to the fact that I abhor quiet and will do anything (talk to myself, put
Buffy reruns on a loop) to never have to abide it. Now, would it be better if
the place was filled with howling or screaming or the sounds of torture? I
don’t know. But this is fucking unbearable. It feels like any noise that I may
make will just evaporate before it even hits the atmosphere — like I’m in
space.

I
was just about to give it the old college try and start shouting out when
suddenly my ears, and my mind, are filled with a cacophony of noise. I cannot tell
how many voices are growling, yelling, or squealing at once but, it’s so
overwhelming that I put my hands over my ears to block it. Then, suddenly, the
silence is back. Only now it’s accompanied by an older black woman standing in
front of me. She looks just a few years older than me, maybe 50. Her hair is
disheveled and her clothes more so. There are some tears in the fabric and I
see some
stains, that I hope against hope,
are not
blood on her shirt. Her shirt is man-sized and styled straight from baby gap.
It’s bright orange with a lime green flower on the front. In the plus column,
it looks comfortable.

She
looks at me and says, “Louise?” I respond affirmatively and she must have
sensed my next question by my face because she answers before I ask. “Oh, we
have the little monsters behind the strongest, thickest, most soundproof
substance in the
Hellverse
. It saves everyone else
from the torment.  Unfortunately, it does nothing for you. I’d offer you
earplugs, but, well, look where we are. None are available.” She gives me a
weary smile.

“That’s
okay. Is it going to make a bad impression if I say that I just want to get
this day over with?” I ask.

“Nope.
Welcome to Child Care in Hell,” she sticks out her hand and I take it. “I’m
Dani. Nice to know you.”

She
takes me back and we stand in front of the heavy doors. “Once they open, you
have to get in before anything gets out. So no dilly dallying. And make sure
they know
who’s
boss right away or else you’ll get
creamed. Try not to look them in the eye. The eyes are old, even though the
body is young. It can be a little disconcerting. Remember, these kids were once
the most influential, albeit most evil adults on earth. Watch out for flying
objects and never, ever turn your back on any of them. We try to do everything
here on a buddy system. I’ll be your buddy today, I will try and cover you and
I’d appreciate it if you do the same. However, if things get real in there,
then it may be every man for himself for a minute. Got it?” she recites all
this like I’m heading into a war zone. I feel a new prick of fear up my spine
as I realize that I probably am heading into just that.

I
take a deep breath, swallow a few times to make sure I’m not going to puke
again, and steady myself. “Okay, I think I’m ready,” I say in a voice that
sounds about half as unsure as I actually feel.

“Then
come on in,” she says. “Oh, and by the way, nice dress,” she says with a laugh.
I laugh too, until the door opens.

I
jump in quickly as instructed and see a frenzy of big and little people running
around. Mainly, the big people are chasing after the little people, although
there is some evidence that occasionally the big people are running away from
the little ones. There are mainly soft toys. There’s nothing in here that could
be fashioned into a weapon. Unless you count the guy in corner with his juice
box aimed like a machine gun and spraying everyone who comes near him with red
liquid. ‘Good,’ I think to myself, ‘That’s what was on Dani’s shirt, not
blood.’ I realize, I’ve just taken my first breath since I entered this room.

The
room itself looks quite typical. Like any other day care center, brightly
colored carpeting and small tables and chairs. There are giant crayon-colored
totes filled with stuffed animals and quilted wall hangings featuring happy
children at play or letters of the alphabet. In the corner, there’s a play
kitchen with a plastic stove and refrigerator filled with plastic food. There
are some things that are conspicuously missing, like games with small pieces or
any game that creates a sense of competition. These kids probably take the
whole ‘doesn’t play well with others’ thing to an art form. There are also no
army men or anything that resembles a weapon. I don’t know if that is to keep
them from getting any ideas or to stave off any memories of life. But, it’s
probably a good idea. Also are no outdoor toys such as trikes or toy cars. Most
likely because these kids are rarely let out of the boundaries of these walls.

While
it’s loud and crazed and a bit like the “before” footage on one of those nanny
programs on television, I feel a bit of relief. I think I can handle this.
There’s no ritual sacrifice or other illicit activity, as far as I can see. I
take a few more deep breaths and begin to get my bearings. I see a bookshelf in
the corner. I go and sit in one of the only chairs they have, which
are chairs
made for children. So with my knees practically
touching my chin, I begin to peruse the titles of the books. They are all quite
virtuous. They are geared toward older readers than the age of the average
child here. But, considering that these kids have brains much more advanced, it
makes sense. I look over the titles and see one that is dear to me. “Little
Women,” by Louisa May Alcott. I remember the summer between sixth and seventh
grade when I broke my leg and couldn’t go outside to play. That summer promised
to be a bereft season filled with loneliness, until I met Jo, Beth, Amy, Meg,
and of course Laurie, the young trust fund boy who lived next door. Each girl,
including myself, kind of fell of love with him during the course of the story.
I can do this, I think to myself. I can share this wonderful story with these
poor demented children and show them how self-sacrifice and helping one another
can bring great reward. That should accomplish two things, it might make it a
bit quiet and more manageable in here for a while, and it just might get me
fired! So, with great gusto I announce, as loud as I can, “Story Time! Anyone
who wants to hear a lovely tale, come sit down!” Three or four children
immediately come and plop down in front of me with faces full of expectation.

‘Hey,’
I think, ‘this is easier than I thought!’ Now I’m dreaming about
Deedy’s
face when he hears that it turns out that this, the
one job where I had no confidence, is the one where I excel. I open up the book
and start to read “Chapter One, Playing Pilgrims...”

Dani
comes over and says “Are you okay, because I have a situation in the nap room
that I have to handle.”

“Sure,”
I answer, “I’ve got this!” My mood is now practically soaring. I go back to the
book and start this lovely tale of Christmas in the March household, with
beloved
Marmee
and her girls. I barely even hear Dani
as she says “Okay, but don’t let this get out of hand, only three or four kids
at a time, okay?” I brush off her comment and continue to read. She thinks I’m
still afraid, or unsure. She doesn’t realize that I’m in my element.

A
few minutes into the book more children wander over. I see them in my
peripheral vision, looking at one another before taking a seat in what I’m now
calling ‘the story circle.’ I’ve read this book so many times the words are
coming easily and I am able to get lost for a few moments in my own thoughts
while I continue. Who knew? All these kids need is a little structure,
something to get lost in and look forward to! Now, I am in an even grander
fantasy. I am going to be the hero of the day care center! Everyone will be so
grateful that I came here and gave them a few minutes of peace and quiet. Dani,
will write a letter of recommendation for my redemption, telling everyone at
the Second Chance Temp Agency that I revolutionized how they approach their
kids, now. They might even put up a plaque or something to give other employees
motivation! I see
Deedy
standing there with pride on
his face as I stand in front of the new symbol of Child Care Excellence that
hangs on the wall. I can’t wait to tell him, he was right. He finally sent me
to the right spot.