Donny's Inferno (2 page)

CHAPTER 3

H
e rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand and then opened them again. What difference that would make, he wasn't sure. Maybe the landscape would reorganize itself into something less surreal. But no. There it was again.

They had stepped through a wall of rock, onto the landing of a tall staircase. From there Donny had a view of an astonishing subterranean world. This was a cavern that dwarfed the grandest on earth and reached as far as he could see. Overhead arched a soaring ceiling that dripped with immense daggers of stone.

His mind fired questions and sought the answers.
How can the roof possibly stay up?
Then he saw the many natural columns of stone, each thicker than a dozen skyscrapers, that rose thousands of feet and melded with the rock above.
Where is the light coming from?
He looked up and saw billowing
orange clouds floating under the roof, pierced by the giant points of rock. But they weren't the puffy vapors of the earthly sky. These were made of fire, burning from within like low-wattage stars.
Is that a river I see?
It certainly looked like a river, a glittering black ribbon that curled around the pillars and passed through what appeared to be ancient streets and towns.
And what are all those . . . things down there?
For that last question, there was no immediate answer—but roaming the land below were creatures of all shapes and sizes, some that looked human, some partly human, and some not at all human.

He couldn't absorb it all fast enough, so he closed his eyes again. Without realizing it, he had dropped to his knees and sat back. Angela must have made the fall a ­gentle one. She knelt beside him now. “Take your time,” she said. “It's certainly an eyeful. You can sit here as long as you like.”

Donny decided to voice some of his questions. It took a while to remember how to talk properly. “Why . . . how . . .” He shook his head.
Start again.
“Shouldn't it be hotter?”

“It used to be,” Angela said. “Now it's a pretty steady eighty-eight degrees. Like I told you, things are different.”

“But . . . ,” Donny said. He kept his eyes shut but pointed up at the clouds of orange light.

“Oh, the clouds. They give light, not heat. One thing you'll learn about Sulfur: there are many kinds of fire. It's not just for burning.”

Donny's eyes felt wet. He smeared the tears away with his sleeve. Another question had popped into his head. It felt more like a fact, one he barely wanted her to confirm. But he needed to know. “Angela. Am I dead?”

She chuckled. “I beg your pardon?”

“I'm dead. Right? The fire killed me, and now I'm here.”

He felt a punch on his shoulder, soft and playful. “Silly boy,” she said. “You're alive and mostly well. I saved you because you looked like you had nowhere else to go, and because I could occasionally use the help of a mortal. A live one, that is. If I need a dead employee, I can find one down here anytime. Come on now, on your feet. I think the first stop for you is the doctor.”

“Doctor?”

“Yes, I assume you know what a doctor is. You're coughing a lot, haven't you noticed? I don't think all that smoke was good for you. We have a very fine doctor here. He died not too long ago, so his medical knowledge is reasonably up-to-date.”

Died not too long ago
? “I think I'm losing my mind.”

“Then we'll find a dead psychiatrist next.” Everything seemed to amuse Angela. She tugged on his arm. “Come along, and don't be so dramatic.” She led him down the stairs, keeping him steady.

The year before, Donny's father had taken him on a trip to Europe, and they'd visited Athens and Rome.
Donny had been amazed to touch the ruins and walk down steps that had been built two thousand years ago. As he descended these stairs carved of rock, his hand sliding along the marble banister, he had the same awestruck feeling. It was like those antiquities, but better preserved. Everything he saw had been there for a long, long time.

He looked out again to see what other wonders lay ahead, but something caught his eye. A thing streaked toward them, bounding apelike across the ground on powerful arms and legs. It was squat and ugly, shaped and colored like a horned toad. Points jutted from the top of its head, and a bristly mane ran down its back. The mouth was wide and dangerous-looking with a forked tongue hanging out and plastered to the side of its face from the force of its acceleration.

Angela squealed, let go of Donny's arm, dropped to her knees, and opened her arms wide. The thing plowed into her and knocked her on her back. Its short tail whipped furiously from side to side. “Arglbrgl!” she said, laughing, as the creature licked her face. “How's my boy?”

The thing shouted, “ARGL! ARGLBRGL!” Angela kissed the horns atop his head and scratched the back of his neck.

The creature turned and looked at Donny, apparently noticing him for the first time. He leaped off Angela and crouched in front of Donny. The flaps of his loose skin sprung outward into pointy bristles. With the speed of
an airbag exploding from a steering wheel, the creature doubled in girth. His lips quivered, and spittle flew from his bared teeth. Donny's eyes opened wide, because he was sure the thing was about to pounce and slash him to pieces.

“Arglbrgl!”
Angela laughed. “Calm yourself. This is Donny. He's your friend now, you understand?”

The thing—which was apparently named Arglbrgl—looked back at Angela. “GRGLBRGL?” he asked. He looked at Donny again. The bristles retracted and then sprung halfway out again, then settled for good as the creature deflated with a loud
hisssss
. Arglbrgl hopped in front of Donny, and Donny held his breath as he was sniffed from his feet to his chest, which was as high as the thing could reach. “BLRGRL,” Arglbrgl finally announced, and then hopped back to Angela's side.

Donny finally remembered to breathe. He faked a smile and talked slowly through his teeth. “What . . . is . . . that?”

“He's an imp, of course. You'll meet all sorts down here, Donny. We're just getting started.”

CHAPTER 4

D
onny's head swiveled and bobbed like a dashboard doll. There was insanity everywhere he looked: the friendly monster that had just joined them. The cliffs that towered on both sides. The immense, yawning canyon in the middle of it all that stretched for miles. Mountains that loomed, and maybe even smoldered, in the misty distance.

His legs wobbled, and Angela caught him by the arm. “Watch where you're going, Cricket. Last time I checked, you mortals were easy to break. And breathe normally. You're panting like a hyena.”

“It's a little . . . overwhelming,” Donny said.

Angela linked arms with him and pointed with her other hand. “That's where we're heading. The Pillar Obscura. Focus on that.”

Donny stared. The pillar was one of the titanic columns
of rippling, twisting stone that reached from the ground to the roof, where the greatest stalactites above had merged with the greatest stalagmites below. A gently rising road had been inscribed in the exterior of the pillar. Along that spiraling ramp, niches, doors, windows, balconies, and statues had been carved into the stone, reaching several hundred feet high.

A small city wreathed the base of the Pillar Obscura. It looked like a greatest hits of the world's oldest structures: a Greek temple here, a stepped pyramid there, and domes, towers, arches, columns, and obelisks everywhere. Some oddly modern buildings made of brick, wood, or concrete were crammed between the antiquities, and telephone wires and power lines had been strung in disorderly fashion along the road and through the alleys. Road signs that looked like they had been pilfered from around the world were planted by the sides of the road, or hung on the building walls.

Strangely, a few sections of the city looked as if they'd been destroyed, reduced to heaps of broken stone.

“One of the pillar cities,” Angela said. “This is my home. And now it's yours.”

Donny followed her into the city, along a road of stone worn smooth over the ages. They passed others along the way. Donny didn't know what to call them. Creatures? Monsters? People? Some looked human enough. Others, less so. Reptilian beings were everywhere, from
monkey-size things to hulking brutes. Some called a greeting to Angela, either in words or in a subhuman grunt or growl, and she smiled or nodded or waved in return. They looked at Donny, too, as if he were an object of curiosity. Every time they did, he averted his eyes and stared at his own feet. He had that awful feeling of sensory overload again, making him dizzy, and was thankful when Angela steered him to the right, onto a short narrow path that led directly to one of those strangely contemporary places. This one looked like a quaint white cottage from some New England seaside village. A sign hung over the door:
MEDICAL DOCTOR, MORTAL CARE
.

“Let's get you looked at,” Angela said. She opened the door, and a bell jingled as they stepped inside.

“Who's that? What do you want?” a man said from down the hall. He stepped into view, a very human-­looking fellow in a shirt and tie, with salt-and-pepper hair and a sour, put-upon expression. When he saw Angela, his attitude transformed instantly. “Miss Obscura. Well, this is an honor!” He clapped his hands. “What can I do for you?”

“Drop the act for one thing,” Angela said. “And for the next, please do whatever medical stuff you ought to do with this mortal. I'll send someone to pick him up shortly.”

“You're leaving?” Donny felt his chest clench like a fist.

“Don't worry, Cricket,” Angela said. She pinched his cheek. “I'll see you soon. Oh, and Doc?”

The doctor straightened up and smiled too eagerly, at full attention. “Yes, Miss Obscura?”

“You're responsible for his wellness. And he is impor­tant to me. Understood?”

The doctor's head bobbed. “Certainly.”

Angela left, moving briskly. The door closed behind her with another jingle.

The doctor let out a deep breath, and the smile evaporated. “Well, let's get it over with. Follow me, please.” He led the way toward another room, and Donny heard him grumble to himself, “What have I done to deserve this?”

Soon Donny was sitting on a paper-covered bench in a strange imitation of a doctor's office. It had the trappings of modern medicine: a metal examining bench, a gleaming cabinet, and medicines and instruments on the shelves. But some of the light came from jars of blurry glass filled with balls of flame that swirled and pulsed like baseball-size stars.

“Anything I should know?” the doctor said.

Donny shrugged. “Like what, doctor . . . ?”

The doctor frowned. “Just call me Doc. I meant, what should I know about you? Your clothes reek of smoke. Am I supposed to guess what the problem is?”

“Oh. Yeah.” Just the memory of the fire triggered another cough from Donny, which took a minute to contain. “There was a fire. Angela saved me. But I ate a lot of smoke.”

“Right,” Doc said. “Say
aaah
.” He took out a little scope and peered down Donny's throat. “You'll live. But you probably shouldn't exert yourself for a couple of days.” He leaned close and stared at Donny's forehead and cheeks. “You always this pale?”

“What? I don't know. I'm pale?”

“Clammy, too. And your hands are shaking. Eyes look dilated. How about your pulse?” Doc put his hand on ­Donny's wrist, and Donny gasped and pulled away.

“What?” said Doc, frowning down at him.

“Your hand . . . it's really cold.” Donny wrapped his other hand around his wrist. The doctor's flesh had been like wax that had just came out of a refrigerator. He could still feel the oddly cold, almost plastic touch.

“Ah,” said Doc. “Yeah. I'm the first one to put a hand on you, aren't I?”

Donny remembered something Angela had said. He'd thought it was a joke:
We have a very fine doctor here. He died not too long ago. . . .

Donny leaned back, staring. “The first what?”

Doc rolled his eyes. “The first . . . I don't know. Resident. Inmate. Soul. Dead guy. You'd better get used to us. Now, do you mind if I finish up? Unfortunately, though I couldn't care less, I've been given responsibility for your health.” He reached out again, pried Donny's hand off his own wrist, and put two fingers on the pulse point below the thumb. An old clock ticked on the wall, and
Doc counted silently while he stared at the second hand. Then came the blood pressure cuff, hugging Donny's arm. Finally Doc set the cuff aside, folded his arms, and looked at Donny again with a frown.

“You feel a little dizzy? Sick to your stomach? Weirded out? Not sure this is really happening?”

Donny felt his eyes watering up. He squeezed them shut and nodded.

“Look, it's not exactly an unusual reaction. Sounds like you almost died in a fire. Next thing you know, you turn up in this freak show. Monsters, demons, giant caverns, dead people. That's a lot to process. You have to stay calm.”

Easy for you to say,
Donny thought, but he just nodded again. None of what the doctor said was helping.

“I mean it. You can't really deal with another shock anytime soon. You might have a breakdown.”

Donny finally opened his eyes and stared back. “It's not like I asked for this.”

Doc raised his hands. “Don't bite my head off. I'm giving you the facts. Here's some advice: if you feel panicky, take a long, slow breath. Inhale through your nose, hold it, and exhale even slower through your mouth. That'll relax you. Got it?”

Donny tried it. “Yes. I got it.”

“Isn't that nice? In the meantime, I got a bunch more questions for you.”

“Okay.”

“Are you on any medications, are you living with any diseases or disabilities, are there any health issues I need to monitor?”

Donny shook his head. “I'm good.”

“We'll see.” Doc reached for a clipboard. A flurry of inquiries followed about childhood diseases, symptoms, aches and pains, bodily functions, and more. By the end Donny had said no a hundred times and felt a little better about his physical health. His mental health was another question.
Twitchy
was the best way to describe it. His nerves jangled, and it was hard to focus on anything the doctor said.

Doc tossed the clipboard aside. “Now. Let's talk about your diet.”

“My diet?”

“Great, you heard me correctly; we'll skip the hearing test. Obscura isn't your mother, and she's not exactly an expert on human needs, so it's up to you to eat well. I know how people your age eat when they're left to their own devices, and it's disgusting. That hole in your face is a mouth, not a garbage disposal. You need fruits and ­vegetables. And have . . .” Doc's voice trailed off, and he looked toward the doorway.

A noise came from outside the room, down the hall. A hinge creaked and a door banged. There was a moist, squishy sound, and the clatter of a chair tipping over. “Are you kidding me? Obscura left the door open, didn't she? And now they've gotten in again! I
hate
those things!”

Whatever was out there, it was coming closer. Doc stepped into the hall and shouted, shaking his fist. “Get out of here, you idiots!” The sound grew louder, and amid the grotesque squelching noises, Donny thought he heard the high-pitched chittering of some strange animal. “Back outside! You're making a mess!” screamed Doc, and he started kicking as a slithering flood of gray bodies engulfed his legs on either side.

They were worms, thousands of them, each as long as one of Donny's arms, with spiked heads and slimy segmented bodies. They swept the doctor off his feet, and he disappeared into the wriggling mass with only his legs kicking above the surface. The worms flowed into the room and surrounded the table.

Donny started to shout for help, but it turned into a ­violent cough instead. Then his mind did the strangest thing. It surrendered. His brain tilted like a pinball machine. The room faded into a shrinking circle of vision. He knew he was fainting, and he aimed his falling body onto the length of the table, so he wouldn't roll over and join Doc at the bottom of the mass of worms. But he was so dizzy that he didn't aim very well. His shoulder slipped over the edge of the table, and the rest of him followed. He landed on top of the squirming mass, and felt bodies engulf him, wriggling between his limbs as he sank.