Heaven and Hell (13 page)

The demons wasted no time in departing, leaving this wretched woman to the ravenous vultures. She pulled at her manacles, but the chains that coupled each of her restraints to this abominable altar gave her little mobility. Already several vultures had noticed her plight, and circled downward toward her.

“Oh God!” she cried, yanking again at the formidable chains that restrained her.

A large vulture, with a wingspan of at least 3 feet, swept within inches of the poor woman as she wept bitterly. Up to this point Serena had stood there motionless, fearful to intervene, but not anymore. She rushed to the woman’s side waving her arms wildly in the air.

“Go away you horrible thing, go away!”

The startled vulture veered sharply away, climbing back into the turbulent sky. The dark haired woman looked at Serena incredulously, at first not understanding what was going on.

“Who, who are you?” she gasped, gazing up at her unexpected benefactor. “How’d you get here?”

“I’m just like you,” began Serena, “a damned soul abandoned by God, doomed to this place.” Serena did her best to quickly explain her situation. Considering this woman’s shattered state of mind, she wasn’t so sure just how much of it registered with her.

“Then you weren’t sent here to rescue me?” asked the woman. “I’d hoped that God might have reconsidered my case and pardoned me.”

“I’m afraid not,” replied Serena, “But I’ll try to protect you, as long as I can.”

Serena didn’t want to give this poor woman false hope, but what else could she say? Right now, her presence had somehow produced an island of temporary calm in this sea of agony and terror. The birds seemed to avoid her, but she couldn’t stay here long, and when she left, this poor woman’s torment would begin. Serena would remain as long as she could, despite the devil’s warning.

She closely examined the woman’s shackles, hoping that there might be a weakness that she could exploit in an attempt to free her, but there wasn’t. The burns left around the woman’s wrists were dreadful, the worst she had ever seen. Her skin had actually been charred beneath the seams where the shackles had welded themselves together. What a cruel and barbaric method of restraint. Then again, what purpose would a lock and key have served on shackles that would remain closed for all eternity? From satan’s viewpoint, it was infinitely practical.

Serena looked at the countless others. She didn’t care what they had done in life, no crime warranted this sort of cruelty. If only there was something she could do; yet she realized that she was just as damned as any of these, only the means by which she would be punished was different.

The woman seemed somewhat calmer now. “My name is Karen, Karen Collins.”

“Serena Davis,” replied Serena.

“I’m sorry that we had to meet like this,” continued Karen.

“Me too,” Serena said. She hesitated; she wasn’t sure how well her next question might be received. “Do you have any idea why you’re here? I mean, why this?”

Karen closed her eyes for a moment. “My heart attack was my ticket here,” she said bitterly. “It isn’t fair, I mean, I’m only 42…42. I quit smoking eight years ago, hadn’t had a sick day in years, for God’s sake, I went to aerobics three times a week. A heart attack shouldn’t have happened, no, not to me, but there it was.”

“I don’t think any of us were safe from death,” Serena said. “I was only 28.”

Karen didn’t seem to notice Serena’s comment. Her head swung from side to side, as she stared in disbelief at her seared wrists, which incredibly, had already begun to heal. “Oh God, this crazy itching in my wrists, its driving me nuts,” said Karen, trying to twist her wrists in the manacles, to somehow alleviate the awful discomfort. Her efforts were rewarded by a trickle of blood as the barbs within the shackles dug into her still tender flesh. Her wrists went still.

“I was getting ready to go to work,” Karen said. “You see; I’m a full partner in a large law firm in Atlanta. It had taken me years of hard work to get to where I was, but it was finally paying off. I had so much to live for. There was no warning; the pain started suddenly, the worst chest pain I’d ever felt. It was like there was a ton of weight on top of me. There was no one at home to help me. My husband had already left for work, and my son was on his way to school; I was alone. I stumbled to the phone, managed to call 911, but I could hardly speak. If they came, they came too late. The next thing I knew, I was being sucked into this violet tunnel. It was horrible.”

Serena only nodded. She was getting to know the procedure pretty well.

“I was taken to the grandest courtroom I had ever seen, where I was forced to kneel before God,” said Karen, who seemed to be more agitated again. “There was a huge audience in the gallery, as I watched my whole life flash before my eyes, in some sort of vision. I didn’t like what I saw. It was biased, it wasn’t fair. I mean, I did a lot of good in my life. I raised a loving son, saved more clients from being run over by the system than I can remember. I saved lives! But in this courtroom, I wasn’t even afforded the opportunity to seek council, or even argue my own case. When it was all over, I was told that my name wasn’t found in the Lamb’s Book of Life, and that was the end of it. God condemned me just like that, sentenced me to outer darkness. What kind of justice is that? It wasn’t fair.”

Tears streamed from Karen’s eyes, as she gazed upward at the circling birds, awaiting the coming feast. “Why can’t they at least give me a fighting chance? Why do I have to be shackled and helpless? I can’t stand it.”

“I was dragged away by an angel, carried into Hell,” continued Karen. “Everything happened so fast. Next thing I knew, the angel had thrown me into some sort of hellish holding cell. Believe me, I’ve seen a lot of horrendous holding tanks, but this was the worst.” Karen again paused. “But I guess you know about all of that.”

Serena nodded. “That was the way it was for me too.”

“They forced me out of my clothes, and into these horrible smelling rags, dragged me off to be sentenced by satan himself. Satan accused me of being uncharitable, of serving self and money. He said that since I had failed to do service to God, since I had not sacrificed anything of myself, that I myself would be sacrificed to the birds of the air on this altar for all eternity. It’s insane! How can he do this to me?”

Karen was becoming far more agitated. Her voice increased in volume, yet trembled at the same time. She again yanked upon the chains that restrained her. “I’ll never see my husband or son again; I’m going to be on this damn altar forever! They’re going to eat me forever! I want out of here! Let me loose, let me loose! Help!” she screamed.

Serena tried to calm her, but it was no use. Karen flailed about wildly, screaming and cursing at the top of her lungs, cursing both God and satan. Serena stepped back.

Within seconds one of the birds was upon Karen, scratching at her left leg with its sharp talons, pecking viciously at her bare belly with its large pointed beak. Blood began to spill. Karen howled and flailed about wildly, but it was to no avail, the execution of her sentence had begun.

Serena ran, tears streaming from her eyes. She ran like a frightened animal, driven on by pure adrenaline. She felt like she could run forever. She tried to block out the screams around her, tried to focus on the ground in front of her, but in vain. There was no escape from the terror, not in Hell.

Serena wasn’t sure how far or how long she had run when exhaustion finally took its toll. Apparently, there was a limit to human endurance, even here. She collapsed to the ground amidst the blood-stained altars, amidst the cries of torment that echoed from every corner of her world, and there she wept.

“Please don’t cry,” came a voice from nearby, nearly masked by the din of agony all around. The voice was strained, the voice of one in great pain.

Serena looked in the direction of the voice, to discover a man shackled to the altar. In reality, he was little more than a collection of bones, torn muscles, and shattered organs. The birds had apparently abandoned him in search of better pickings; yet, like any victim of Hell’s fury, his body was regenerating. New muscle was growing, spreading over blood-stained bones, while within his chest, his vital organs and blood vessels were repairing themselves at a phenomenal pace. It was a thoroughly unnatural and grotesque process, one that sent a chill up Serena’s spine.

Again the tormented being spoke. Only the timbre of his voice told Serena that this lump of flesh and bone was, in reality, a man. “Where are you going, child?”

“The sea of fire,” replied Serena.

“I’m sorry,” he replied, his voice full of genuine sympathy. “I guess there aren’t any pleasant destinations in this place.” His head turned slowly toward Serena. She gazed into a face that was as much bone as ravaged flesh. The eyes were set deep in the dark sockets of his skull, and Serena wondered if they might not have been there at all just a few minutes ago. His nose was little more than a bloody stump, but it too seemed to be regenerating. “Please excuse my appearance. I know it must be frightening to you.”

“No, no it’s not,” replied Serena. She lied.

“The birds will be leaving me in peace for a time,” continued the man. “That is, until I am whole once more. Then the entire ordeal will begin anew. As best I can figure; it takes about four hours for the birds to pick one of us clean. Then it takes about an hour or so for our bodies to reconstitute. It is an endless cycle, as endless as eternity itself.”

“Who are you?” asked Serena, trying to dry the tears from her eyes.

“My name is Thomas Allen Stanford,” was the reply. “Not that names mean a great deal here.”

“I’m Serena Davis,” replied Serena.

“I’m sorry that you’re here,” continued Thomas, “though, I appreciate the opportunity to talk to you.”

Serena smiled slightly; this man’s kind voice had calmed her. She really needed someone to talk to. “May I ask how long you’ve been here?”

“You can ask,” came the reply, “I don’t think I could tell you. You see, after a while, time is a thing that can get pretty blurred here. “I passed into this world in 1938, just before Christmas. How long has that been?”

“A long time,” said Serena, doing the math. “It’s 2007 now.”

“Sixty-nine years,” interjected Thomas, almost immediately.

“Your math skills are sharper than mine,” noted Serena.

There was a slight sound that came from Thomas. Serena thought it might have been a chuckle. “I had to be good with numbers; you see I was a banker, a bank president to be more specific. I was in the banking business for over 30 years, through good times and bad. I was a good businessman, and I did my job well. My small bank was one of the few that survived the stock market crash of ‘29, and it continued to thrive on through the depression that followed. Yes, LaSalle National continued to serve the greater Chicago area with courtesy and efficiency through those dark days. But it was such a long time ago. I sometimes wonder if that dependable old bank is still there today.”

“I really don’t know,” admitted Serena.

“Well, I guess it doesn’t matter, does it? At least not to us, not here. I doubt that we will be taking out a home improvement loan anytime soon.” Thomas pulled weakly upon the chains that bound him. “Nope, this altar and these shackles are as sound today as they were on the day they were fashioned. All of our needs are seen to here. We want for nothing, except possibly an end to our torment.” Thomas paused. “I’m sorry. I know that outburst was uncalled for. I didn’t want to upset you. I guess my etiquette has become a little coarse over the years.”

“It’s OK, really,” Serena said, hesitating to ask the next question. “But why are you here?” She regretted asking the instant she said it.

“It’s all right,” assured Thomas, “I don’t mind talking about it. I’m paying the price for my affluence, pride, and arrogance. You see, the board of directors of my bank had blessed me with a very generous salary. After all, my brilliant financial strategies had pulled our institution through a crisis that had crushed many of our competitors. We even acquired several of those competitors during those dark years of the depression.

“I showered my family with the blessings of our wealth. My wife and two daughters wanted for nothing. We lived in a large, beautiful home in one of the most affluent areas of the city; threw lavish parties; became part of Chicago’s elite society. My daughters attended a prestigious private college, and their weddings were large and important social events. Life was beautiful—at least for us.

But somewhere along the line I had forgotten one thing, charity. In the midst of our affluence, we had forgotten the millions of suffering people around us. Socially, we had nothing to do with those less fortunate than ourselves; after all, what would our friends say? In my business affairs, I made loans only to those people whom I counted as good risks, and that meant persons that I considered at least socially acceptable. I wasn’t afraid to foreclose on an overdue mortgage, just because the client was out of work. After all, my bank wasn’t a charity. We were a business, and we were in it to make money.”

Thomas paused. A grunt of pain emanated from his lips. Flesh now covered virtually all of his face, and his nose was nearly whole. His rib bones were rapidly being covered with new muscle tissue and his internal organs were nearly restored. Yet, the pain associated with the entire process was apparent upon his countenance, and in the abrupt jolts that occasionally racked his body as nerves reconnected, once more transmitting pain from ravaged regions of his desecrated body.