Tales of the Fallen Book I: Awakenings (12 page)

When Travis righted himself, Dew explained. “Everyone that comes to Painfreak has wants and needs and no matter how fucked up they are there is someone or something here to help them get what they want. Because ole Boscoe here hasn’t got any useful tackle down there he has to get his kicks in other ways. Boscoe here feeds on misery and sorrow. He can get deep into your memories and manipulate what he finds in there to cause the kind of despair he needs to get off. It sucks, but there are people who get off on being miserable. And even though he is typically a worthless piece of shit, he serves a purpose to some, which is why he is allowed in here.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t ask for that,” Travis said, still confused.

“Eh, things get fucked up sometimes. You order a hooker to your room and you think you’re getting an Asian butterfly only to find your butterfly’s packin’ a springroll.”

Boscoe huffed, “Nice.”

Dew reached down and grabbed one of Travis’ shoes and whipped it at Boscoe catching him square in the face. “Shut it!”

“Mother fucker! You are such a prick,” Boscoe cried, rubbing his face. “And you owe me another soul mirror. That thing was expensive.”

Dew let out an amused grunt. “Yeah, right. Why don’t you learn how to use your fucking power properly and you wouldn’t need one of those. You’re such an impotent little shit.”

Then Dew tossed a thumb in Boscoe’s direction. “Most sorrow eaters worth a shit can just get into someone’s mind and make people see them as whatever they want without the need for any supernaturally charged assistance. But not ole Boscoe here. He’s got to rely on a soul mirror to channel the thoughts into something he can get off on. Pathetic.”

“Yeah, well, at least my daddy still talks to me.”

Travis didn’t know what had happened but it got real hot in the room.
Really
hot. He could feel the bed start to shake. Travis found himself moving…
fast!

“Watch the big guy,” Boscoe said cheerily, “he’s gonna blow.”

And it did seem like he was indeed “gonna blow.” The demon had gone a dark crimson and Travis could swear steam was coming out of various places on Dew’s body.

“You ever want to piss-off an old school demon, just mention daddy,” Boscoe laughed. Travis wondered if the little thing had a death wish. But he wondered from across the room.

Dew slowly stood and turned to Boscoe. But instead of showing fear, Boscoe just laughed louder at Dew. “Let me guess, you’re gonna shove me up your ass?”

“Oh, you can bet on it,” Dew said through gritted teeth. And he started toward Boscoe.

Boscoe didn’t flinch. In fact, he seemed calmer than he had been since being pulled out of the mirror. “But I think
they
may have something to say about that.”

Shadows filled the room in a wave of chilling wisps. They swirled around Travis’ naked body, causing a massive attack of goosebumps. Then the shadows slipped further into the room, gathered and formed a solid wall of swirling grey smoke between Dew and Boscoe. And as Travis stared mesmerized at the churning mass it began to break apart. It split into four sections and each one spun itself into a miniature whirlwind, spinning, spinning, spinning. Travis grew dizzy and had to grab the wall behind him for support as the four twisters formed into four men—four very big and very mean looking men—all mirror images of one another.

The four men all brought up their right hands in unison. Dew stopped short, his anger visibly abating, but still clearly, totally pissed. “Is there a problem, Mr. Dewanal?” they all asked in a calm manor. The four voices echoed each other by just a split second, giving their already menacing presence an added creepiness.

Dew stood up straight, took a deep breath and let it out. “Just having a little disagreement with one of my distant cousins here.”

“We have become aware of the situation here in regards to Mr. Boscoe. It would appear that he has overstepped his privileges and we will remove him, remind him of the rules and refuse his admittance for quite a while.”

“Aw, shit, come on!” Boscoe yelled, not nearly as smug as he had been minutes ago. “It was a mis—”

But he stopped short when all four of the shadow men turned in unison and commanded him: “You
will
be silent.”

Boscoe dropped his head and muttered to himself, “I’m just saying it was a mistake.”

Dew’s body color had changed back to its non-descript color and he laughed and clapped his hands together. “Boys, no trouble from me. I swear,” he said holding his hands up in surrender. Then he turned to Travis, “T-man, get dressed.” And Travis got dressed faster than he ever had in his life. Within seconds he had gathered his scattered clothing and even the shoe resting next to Boscoe and was fully clothed and standing next to Dew. The four shadow guards stood motionless.

“T-man and me are just gonna go ahead and blow out of here and let you tend to
Mr. Boscoe
here,” Dew said, the sarcasm dripping. “Let me just make a door and we’ll be on our way.” Dew moved around the wall of shadow guards, about three feet from Boscoe, extended his claw up and placed one of his talons high up on the wall, poked his nail into the sheetrock and pulled it down. The wall responded like flesh, splitting apart, the edges of the incision puckering up and out. Behind the cut lay a void of deep crimson.

“There,” Dew said proudly. “That’ll do her.” Then turning to Travis, “T-man, after you.”

Travis didn’t like this cordial Dew. This wasn’t the demon he had come to know over the past couple of hours. It was kind of skeeving him out, but he moved forward anyway, stopped short of just walking right into the bloody hole, tossing it a skeptical look.

“Go for it, man. It’s cool. I’ll be right behind you,” Dew assured.

So Travis placed a hand on the edge of the fleshy fissure. It felt like warm meat that seemed to suck his hand into it and made Travis shudder, but he closed his eyes and stepped through the gap.

Dew turned to the four shadow guards. “Sorry to have bothered you boys.” And he began backing into the hole. “Wouldn’t want to ruin any future fun I might have here by getting banned, so I’ll just head on out.”

The four guards all nodded at Dew as he entered the hole he had created. Dew continued backing into the red void and once he was all the way in it started to heal itself, the cut fusing back together at the top and bottom. The two ends grew closer and closer and were about to meet when Dew’s upper body shot back out of the remaining gap. “Sorry, boys, I’m gonna be needing this.” His arm lashed forward and his claw wrapped itself around Boscoe’s head with a firm grip and yanked. With a horrified
squeal
Boscoe was being pulled through the air and into the closing hole in the wall.

“
Shiiiiiii…”
was all the shadow guards heard as Boscoe disappeared behind the now closed wall-wound. They all gave the wall an irritated squint, shrugged, then tilted their heads slightly as if hearing someone calling them. They all collapsed into swirling shadows once again and took off out of the room.

««—»»

Travis found himself standing on a field of flesh. He turned in place, looking around him and knew instantly where he was. But it wasn’t quite what he expected. When he finished his circle he found Dew standing there with a squirming Boscoe dangling from his claw.

“Let me go, you prick!” Boscoe squealed.

Travis ignored him and looked at Dew instead. “Guess this is Hell, huh?”

Dew looked around absently. “Sort of.”

“Kind of stinks.” Travis wrinkled his nose at the smell. It wasn’t horrible, like a rotting carcass, but definitely had a meaty and earthy odor.

“Yeah, well, what did you expect, cinnamon and apples?”

Travis turned his back to Dew and stared out over the downward sloping flesh field, its raw, red hills extending far off into the distance until it met a mountain of tangled bone. Travis noticed something even more odd about the ground, as if being made of flesh wasn’t strange enough. He stared with fascination as the ground seemed to rise and fall ever so slightly. Like it was breathing.
 
“Okay, that’s creepy.”

Travis then shrugged and turned back to Dew. “Not as hot as I thought it would be,” he said casually.

“Well, like I said, it’s
sort of
Hell. More like Hell’s Home Depot. Everyone has their own vision of Hell, their own preconceived ideas. This is where the building materials for each individual Hell comes from.”

Travis raised his left eyebrow—he could never raise the right one for some reason. “Really? So everyone who goes to Hell has their own personal Hell then? No huge pit of bodies writhing in agony? No demons with pitchforks skewering the damned?”

“Sure… Well, used to be that way. There were a lot of pits, a lot of pain, anguish, torment, screaming, gnashing of teeth and all that shit, and it had all been customized.” Dew grew animated, moving his hands about the air, Boscoe jerking around like a rag doll. “Everyone’s Hell was like a little play with its own set and cast of characters. One guy’s Hell may be spending eternity surrounded by screaming kids with snot covered noses. Another might go more old school with the demons and shit.”

Travis nodded. “So that’s when you get called in?”

Dew shook his head. “Not anymore. I mean, we did at first, when people started thinking about Hell as a real place and started coming down here, but thanks to Christianity, Hell started getting busy real quick. It was fun back in the old days, but man, the hours got worse and worse. So someone, don’t remember who, came up with the idea for the personalized Hells.” Dew motioned to the landscape. “Then they formed all this shit to help create them.” Dew paused and seemed to be lost in thought. Then he quietly said, “But it’s all different now. Hell has changed. The boss has bigger plans now.”

Travis could tell there were some serious issues under the surface of what Dew was saying. But he figured it was best to let it go. It wasn’t his business and if Dew wanted to tell him he would. “So you all kind of retired?” Travis asked trying to bring Dew back to the here and now.

Dew shook himself out of his thoughts. “Yeah, kind of had to. There aren’t that many of us. I mean true demons are The Fallen and it’s not like there were millions of us. Just too many people coming here for us to handle. We couldn’t breed fast enough to keep up with demand. I mean, just think about it, if you believe in Hell and that any sin you do will make you end up there, then you’re
going
to end up there.”

Travis shook his head, trying to wrap his brain around what Dew was saying. “So all the people who believe in Hell end up here because of their guilt?”

“Not
all,
but most yeah. Most Christians end up down here. Almost no one goes to Heaven except for Jews.”

“Ha, really?”

“Yeah, and fucking crazy bastards who think they are righteous. Cult leaders, mass murderers killing in the name of God who think they will go to Heaven because they are doing God’s work. They believe it so it happens.”

Travis stared wide-eyed at Dew. “Shit.”

“Yep, it’s a bitch. You should see the look on some priests’ faces when they end up down here. Fucking priceless.”

“I bet,” Travis agreed. Then he thought some more and noticed Boscoe again. “What about things like him? Couldn’t you just make a lot more demons to handle the work?”

Dew shook Boscoe some more bringing another squeal from him. “Tried at first. Couldn’t breed enough to keep up with demand. So we went to the raw material idea. Plus, you ever see some of the female demons?” Dew shuddered. “I’d rather fuck Boscoe here.”

“You wish,” Boscoe said disgustedly.

Dew shook Boscoe a couple of times. “Shut up, buttplug.” Then to Travis, “We have a lot of halfbreed children like dipshit here. Got to give his daddy credit, wood nymphs are fucking hot. Too bad you end up with fucktards like this.” Dew held Boscoe up to his face. “Speaking of which…spelunking time.”