Young Writers Society

It was a formal looking sign. Neat. Tasteful. Elegant. The kind of sign that says "Hey, look at me. I'm better than you" to all the lesser signs of the world. It stood about four feet off the ground, suspended by a gold pole that shot up from the floor. Ingrained upon a black background in shining silver letters was the following introductory:

--Welcome to Hell. No smoking, please--

--No fumen, por favor--

Randy and I stood staring at the sign for some time. High above us Willie Nelson crooned over a set of loud speakers.

"Are you freakin' kidding me?" I asked, gesturing towards the sign.

"I know. Bit hypocritical of them. Didn't figure hell's waiting offices were bilingual."

"Yes. Cause only Americans go to hell, Randy."

Randy shook his head.

"Don't be so narrow minded, Bill. A whole variety of people speak English. For example, so do the English," Randy replied.

"Lot of them down here, are there?"

"I'm sure they have a decent representation."

We would have kept on arguing had a striking young woman not approached us. She stopped us in our tracks.

"Wow," Randy whispered.

"Mr. Bigsby. Mr. Kline," she said, shaking our hands in turn. First Randy's, then mine.

"Actually I'm Mr. Bigsby," said I.

"And I'm Mr. Kline," said Randy.

"Of course. Please follow me."

She spoke in a flat, business-like tone. She was dressed in a fiery red skirt and jacket. Her brown hair fell lightly along her neckline, illuminating her blue eyes. Despite the color, the clothes appeared to be office attire. She turned away and began to make her way across the lobby. Her heels clacked against the tiled floor as she moved.

I followed. Randy continued to stare.

"For a spawn of the underworld she sure has got a great ass."

"Shut up," I hissed.

"What?"

"I'm sorry, I don't think it's smart to make loud comments about a creature of the night while she's in ear shot."

"So you're saying I can make lewd comments about her as long as she's not within ear shot?"

"I don't want you to say anything! Come on, let's get this thing straightened out," I said, pushing Randy forward.

We followed the vixen to the lobby elevator. The lobby itself was pristine. Clean and polished. The smell of Pine-Sol filled the air. A security guard sat behind a towering marble desk, his head buried in a copy of Anne Rice's latest trag...I mean respectable novel.

"Hello Gary. Still reading filth I see," the vixen remarked as she pressed the 'up' button on the elevator.

"Hey, not everyone reads Dickens, Emily."

"Not everyone reads," Randy interrupted.

I kicked his ankle.

The guard lowered the book with a sigh. His face was pale and freckled. His red hair fell in tangles over his brow. Two crooked horns emerged from either side of his skull.

"You-" he began and quickly raising his hand to his forehead, covering the horns, "Oh shoot, sorry, hope I didn't freak you boys out. We're not supposed to show newcomers the horns."

"It's ok. Harold drove us here," I said.

His expression changed, his face brightening. He chuckled, lowering his hands.

"Boy. That must have been a fun ride."

"Indeed."

The elevator button dinged. The doors slid open.

"Step inside, please," the vixen said, motioning with her hand.

The demon named Gary had already returned to his reading. We entered the elevator.

"That woman has a special place reserved down here," the vixen remarked, pressing the highest number on the elevator switchboard. Seventh floor, ironically enough.

Willy Nelson continued to play inside the elevator.

Randy rocked on his feet, watching the woman.

"May I ask you something, miss?" he asked.

"Yes, of course."

"Why country? I figured the devil's choice in music would be more..."

"Violent?"

"That's putting it delicately."

I kicked Randy again. He continued.

The vixen smiled. Her face was pale. She sounded nervous.

"Heavy metal and rage music might, well, enrage you. But nothing eats away at the soul more like a slow country song."

"She has a point," I muttered.

Randy nodded.

"So what's it like working in hell?" Randy asked.

"You ever worked for the government?"

"Yeah."

"Something like that."

"Huh..."

The elevator button dinged. We'd reached the 7th floor. The doors opened slowly and we stepped into a long, narrow corridor. We began to walk. Randy kept close to the vixen. I kept my distance, for fear that Randy might say something stupid, prompting the demon to burst into flame.

You can never be too careful.

"You look nervous," Randy remarked, gazing upon the red skirted demon.

"It's these corridors. I'm a bit claustrophobic."

"Really? So am I!"

The vixen raised her eyebrows.

"Not that that's something to be happy about. I used to be, but therapy healed it. So that's why you sounded so nervous in the elevator. Got it from when my brother locked me in our basement for a day. Kids, you know? What about you?"

"I was imprisoned within a holy artifact for two hundred years."

Randy bit his lip.

"Well that must've been unpleasant. My basement was pretty dark though."

She laughed. We walked. Randy talked. And we kept walking.

I checked my watch. It was dead. I'd forgotten about the whole 'time doesn't exist here' thing. We walked for what seemed to be hours down the same stretch of corridor. The vixen had increased her pace. Finally, up ahead a small door came into sight. In actuality the door was fairly normal in size, just a hell of a long ways away. We stopped before the entrance.

The door was simple but sturdy. A small plaque nailed into the frame read the following:

--Satan. Prince of Darkness. Lord of the Underworld. CEO of Enron Corporations.--

A fuzzy welcome mat with a picture of Garfield lay at the foot of the door.

"Here we go," the vixen whispered, rapping lightly on the entrance.

The door swung open and we entered the Dark Lord's office.

***

Now let's stop here. I haven't had the chance to tell you how we got here. In my excitement, I just tossed you in the middle of the story. I apologize. You must be confused or at least mildly offended. I mean, what kind of asshole starts a story right in the middle? A bad writer, that's who. I never claimed to be Shakespeare but even I know that all stories have a beginning, a middle, and an end. That was the middle. So let's start with the beginning.

***

I woke with a sharp pain in my chest. Randy lay beside me. I sat up with great difficulty and glanced over my surroundings. We were in a desert, lying in the middle of a hot asphalt road. Randy stirred with a grunt. My eyes drifted over his face.

"What the hell?"

A long line of skid marks ran across Randy's face. He groaned as he his temples. His face wasn't deformed. It was still as plain and uninspiring as always, yet the marks remained, despite him rubbing his shirt over his sweat drenched face.

"Jesus, man. I feel like I got hit by a bus," he muttered.

"Randy. We were hit by a bus."

It was a truck, to be more precise. But I exaggerate for effect. My chest was burning. I rolled my shirt up. On the skin below my ribcage was the imprint of a license plate for a Texan owned 4x4 truck. LVR BOY, it read. Great, of all the plates that could hit me, I get the one douchebag who names his plates after a gay porno from the early 70's.

"Bill?"

"Yes, Randy?"

"Are we dead?"

"I believe so."

"Crap."

I glanced across the barren land. Dirt and sand as far as the eye could see. We were screwed.

"Where are we?" Randy asked.

"Hell if I know."

"Looks like the set of The Road Warrior."

"That the one with the Braveheart dude?"

"Yeah."

"He dead?"

"Not to my knowledge."

"Then how bout we focus on the problem at hand?"

A horn sounded. The same horn used by the college students who party too much. That annoying fiesta jingle. We truly were in hell.

From over the horizon a large, red school bus emerged. Most of its windows were broken. Its sides were smeared with dry mud. A set of steer horns were fixed to the fender. Written across the top in black spray paint were the words "Hell Bus". The vehicle crawled to a stop in front of us.

With a hiss the doors swung open. From the driver's seat a man arose. His teeth were long and sharp, stained as black as a midnight cave. His eyes, a dark shade of red, blazed. His horns arched over his shoulders. He towered over us as he leaned forward, his mouth wide, fangs bared.

"Welcome ta the Hell Bus, partners, name's Harold. I'll be drivin' you today," he said in a thick country accent, stretching out his hand in welcome.

"AGGGHH!" I screamed, frozen stiff.

"Bill..." Randy whispered.

"AGGGHH!"

"Oh yeah, sorry bout the horns, Mister. Forgot ta hide 'em."

"AGGGHH!"

***

I woke on the bus, my head smushed against a fine leather seat.

"Randy?" I muttered.

"Oh good, hey Harold, he's awake!"

"What?"

Randy appeared beside me, followed shortly by the Hell Bus driver.

"Was worried ya hurt yer noggin' on that fall. Doesn't seem ta be any damage. Just take it easy durin' the ride."

The driver's horns had gone. As had his fangs. His red eyes remained, but they had changed a softer hue.

I laid there the longest, listening to Randy and Harold discuss the benefits of manuel and automatic transmitions.

The bus was clean and well kept. The inside resembled a luxury greyhound bus. Aside Randy and I, only one passenger was riding. He was a small, bald man, with an oversized black top hat and the air of someone important. The fact that he was dressed only in his boxers detracted from that air. He sat with his hands folded neatly in his lap. I glanced back at Harold.

"So you're a demon, right?"

"Yep."

"Where you taking us?"

"Ta see the big man," Harold replied.

"The big man? You mean God?"

"No. Not God. Ya think God hangs out round here? No, we're going ta see Satan."

Ricky stopped fiddling with the tread tracks on his face.

"Satan? As in 'Prince of Darkness' Satan? As in 'tortures mortals into insanity' Satan?" I asked.

"Relax. He ain't that bad. Quite a nice guy actually. All ya got ta do is get on his good side."

"How do I do that? Kill a puppy?"

"No. No. Just don't piss him off. You'll do fine."

Randy scooched closer, his arms crossed and resting on the seat.

"So how long have you been doing this, Harold?"

"Hmm...bout eight hundred years. I tell ya, it never gets old. I love the open road, partner."

I glanced out the broken window at the barren desert that surrounded us.

"Yeah, lot of variety to the scenery."

"That there is," Harold continued, either ignoring or not catching my sarcasm, "So what do you fine gents do for a livin'?"

"I'm an accountant," I replied.

"Thrillin' job, eh?"

"Yep. Blows the mind. Randy here's a dentist."

Yes. Believe it or not, Randy is the man who drills your teeth while you're high on laughing gas.

"What about you, partner?" Harold asked, glancing at the boxer wearing man in the back seat.

The man glanced up, tipping his top hat back a bit so we could see his face. His left hand remained tucked in his lap.

"Me? Oh I'm a serial rapist."

Randy's mouth fell open.

"Just kidding. Got you good, didn't I? I'm really a lawyer."

The man chuckled to himself and pulled his hat back down. Randy met my eyes and smiled.

"I think I liked him better as a rapist," he whispered.

I kicked him.

***

"I can't believe I'm in hell," I said, rubbing my eyes.

"Don't feel too bad, partner. It ain't all that bad."

I raised my eyebrows.

"Really?"

"No. No I'm lyin'. It's pretty horrible. For you humans anyways."

I shook my head. Overhead the stars or whatever they were, twinkled in the sky. It was night. That is not to say it was actually night time. Remember, time does not exist out here. I only mean to say that it was dark outside. Randy and the boxer man were both sound asleep. Only myself and, thankfully, Harold, couldn't rest.

"But the thing is, Harold, I never did anything wrong. I love my family and my children. I've never killed or stolen. Never cheated on my wife. Hell, I've never even gotten a parking ticket."

"Sounds like something you should take up with the big man."

"You mean Satan?" I asked.

Harold smiled.

"No. I mean God."

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it. If what you say is true, than you've got nothin' ta worry about."

I watched as the desert plains rushed by.

"You know something, Harold. For a demon, you're a pretty nice guy."

"Common misconception my friend. Most of us demons are pretty nice folk. It's you humans that make this place so damn dangerous.

I laughed. The demon driver joined me. I shut my eyes. Within a few minutes I was fast asleep.

***

"Well boys, we're almost there!" Harold shouted, honking the party horn.

I woke from my sleep.

Up ahead stood three, shining building, each contrasting harshly with the blazing desert sand. A large sign hung from a single lamp post.

--Welcome to Hell's Assignment Offices. Please enjoy your stay.--

Randy watched as we neared the white buildings.

"Wow. What are they for, Harold?"

"Well, two are used to assign ya to yer sector of hell based on the degree and severity of yer damnin' sins. Ya know, first circle's the best, seventh circle the worst. One's for people with last names A to M, the other L to Z. Looks like you two will be takin' the 1st buildin'. The one on the right. Mr. Leonard, you'll be on the left."

The boxer wearing man nodded.

The bus slowed to a halt between the two assignment buildings. I glanced up at the tallest building, the one behind the two assignment offices.

"And what's the third one for?" I asked.

"Oh. It's just where me and ma fellow demons live."

I turned to Harold and held out my hand. He grasped it.

"It's been nice knowing you, Harold."

"You too, partner. Good luck clearin' yer names."

"Appreciate that."

Behind us Mr. Leonard had risen. He passed by and stepped off the bus, turning quickly to face us. A silver handcuff hung loosely from his left wrist. He raised his right arm and removed his top hat, bowing. An exit wound went from one side of his head to the next, allowing us to see through his forehead and to the shining buildings beyond. He smiled and returned the top hat to his head, covering the bullet hole.

"Pleasure meeting you gents," he said, and with that, turned and began to make his way towards the assignment building on the left.

I met Randy's eyes and shrugged.

Sometimes things are best left to the imagination.

***

Well that about wraps everything up to this point. We've just finished the beginning. Everyone ready to continue on to the middle of the middle, or wherever it is we are. Its a long haul, but you can make it. If you give up, then no big loss. Everyone's happy. Ready? Here we go.

***

The door swung open. We entered. The room was large and extravagantly decorated, no surprise considering whose office it housed. A large, cedar desk stood in the middle of the room. The walls were adorned with numerous photographs of famous politicians, Richard Nixon most prominently featured. And there, behind the desk and resting against an easy chair, sat Satan.

First of all, he wasn't red. He had no tail, no hayfork, no pointy black beard. He was simply an unbelievably good looking man. Like someone took the best parts of Johnny Depp and George Clooney and smashed them together. His skin was bronzed, his slickly combed hair a deep shade of black. He wore a fancy suit. Pure white. Even the tie. He stood quickly and shook both our hands.

"Lovely to meet you, Mr. Bigsby. Mr. Kline."

"Actually I'm Mr. Bigsby," said I.

"And I'm Mr. Kline," Said Randy.

"My mistake. Please take a seat.

He motioned towards the two chairs in front of the desk.

The vixen hovered behind us.

"Anything else I can do for you, sir?" she asked.

"Emily, how many times do I need to tell you, it's okay to call me Dad at work. I'm fine."

Randy's jaw flew open. I entered a coughing fit.

"Ok then. I'll see you later, Dad."

The vixen turned and opened the office door. She glanced back at us.

"Goodbye, Mr. Kline," she said with a smile, closing the door.

Randy's face was on fire. He attempted to cover his red cheeks.

We sat in silence. The Dark Lord sat with his hands clasped together, watching us.

"Can I get you boys something? A sandwich perhaps? Some coffee?"

"I'd love a sandwich," Randy replied.

Satan snapped his fingers. A puff of smoke arose from the empty desk top. When it cleared, the table top was still empty. Satan pulled open a drawer and removed a plastic bag from the depths. He set it on the desk. Inside were two white bread sandwiches.

"No magic tricks here, gentleman. My daughter Emily seems to think that I don't eat enough. Silly girl makes me four of these a day. How does she expect me to finish all this?"

Randy reached across the desk and took a sandwich from the bag. He began eating.

"Wow. This is great. Mr...Satan?"

"Call me Frank. Everyone does. Take a sandwich, Mr. Bigsby."

I stared at the long sandwich within the confines of the zip lock bag. It seemed to mock me.

"That's it? A free sandwich? No strings attached? I don't have to sell you my soul or anything?"

Satan smiled. A soft chuckle escaped his lips.

"Just take the sandwich, Mr. Bigsby."

I hesitantly removed the sandwich from the bag, raising it to my lips and taking a tiny bite. It was delicious.

"Wow. This is great. What's in this?"

"Human liver," Satan replied.

Randy and I proceeded to spit the sandwich across the deck. The stylishly dressed demon began to laugh hysterically, clutching his chest,

"I'm kidding. I'm kidding. It's tuna. You should've seen your face."

I put the sandwich down. I'd lost my appetite. Randy continued eating.

"It's just simple, everyday tuna. But this is the afterlife after all. Special spices and the works. You know the deal."

"Yeah."

Satan cleared his throat.

"Before we begin, is there anything you would like to ask me?" he asked.

"You gonna eat that?" Randy questioned, pointing to my sandwich.

"No. Go ahead. You sure seem to be involved in politics, Frank."

Satan nodded.

"Oh yes. Especially during the 60's and 70's. Vietnam was so inspiring. So much corruption and scandal. Gosh, Nixon was fun to mess with."

"You and Nixon?"

"Oh yeah, me and him. Like two pieces of a puzzle. We drifted apart after the whole Watergate Scandal. He's gone all saintly now, just like Jimmy Carter, building shelters and libraries and 'supporting their communities' but it won't matter in the end. I still own those bastards. Not as many backdoor dealings with me today as you might think. But I manage to grab an unknowing soul now and then. How do you think Bush beat Gore and Kerry? Nice kid. Dumb as a stump, but a nice kid. Anyways, I'm babbling. You were saying?"

"Do you happen to know how to get in touch with God?" I asked.

Satan sighed, rubbing his brow.

"This again. Every day someone wants to meet him. The Prince of Darkness is sitting right in front of you, yet all you care about is having a little chat with God. Besides, I doubt he'd have much interest in speaking with you," he replied.

"Why?"

"What with you two being mass murderers and all."

"Wait...what!?"

Randy spat the sandwich across the desk for the second time.

"Would you please stop doing that?" Satan asked, sweeping the crumbs into the waste basket beside his desk.

"We're not mass murderers!"

"Yes. Of course not. Neither am I."

"Look, Randy and I--"

"Randy?" Satan interrupts, turning to face the hungry dentist.

"Yeah, Randy and I--"

"Your name's not Sam Kline?"

"No."

The demon began to shift through a set of papers.

"And you're not Richard Bigsby?"

"That's my cousin," I whispered.

Randy scratched his chin.

"Holy crap. Richy's a killer? That's a mild surprise," he said.

"Mild?"

"Well considering all the crazy stuff we've seen today, demons and hell buses and such, it's not that far out there. I tell you, your next family reunion's going to be very awkward."

Satan raised his hand. Randy fell silent.

"So you're not Samuel Kline and Richard Bigsby?" he asked.

"No."

"Huh...well that's a shame."

"A shame? I'm not supposed to be dead!" I said.

"Don't worry, my friends. I'll have a nice talk with the big man. See if we can, you know, sort this whole mess out."

I shook my head, making sure I still didn't have any desert gravel in my ears.

"You talk to God?"

"Now and then. We're still acquaintances."

"Didn't you try to overthrow him?" Randy asked.

"Just because I try to overthrow him every millennia or so doesn't mean we don't converse anymore. Plus, I want to have something to gloat about next Thanksgiving. His offices handle the death times. This must be their first mistake in days."

"Days?"

"Well what do you think happens when someone whose heart has stopped for two minutes suddenly reawakens, healthy as a horse?"

Randy stuffed the last of the sandwich into his mouth.

"So what do we do now?"

"Well. I'll give you the keys to a guest room in the employee apartments. You should hear back from me within three days."

Satan reached into his back pocket and produced a small, silver key. He placed it in my hand.

"Well thanks, Frank. You know you're not so bad," Randy said.

The demon smiled.

"Yes I am."

The two of us rose from the easy chairs and turned to leave. Satan placed his hand on Randy's shoulder.

"You go on ahead, Mr. Bigsby. I'm gonna have a little chat with your friend. Just head down the hallway and out the building. I'm sure you've seen where the hotel is."

"Ok. See you in a bit, Randy."

"Bye, Bill."

I turned and exited through the door, starting down the hallway.

Satan and Randy stood alone in the quiet office. The demon began to pace around his office.

"Mr. Kline. Randy. As I'm sure you know, I'm well acquainted with the idea of human lust. It's a wonderful thing. My favorite sin. Brings out the most primal animal instincts in us all. Please take a seat."

Randy was forced backwards into the easy chair. Satan turned to face him. The chair began to move forward, dragging the office rug with it as it went. Randy was forced into the desk, pinned between the hard cedar and the soft fabric of the chair.

"Did I do something to upset you, Frank?" he gasped, struggling to breathe.

Satan's eyes had darkened to a cold, soulless black.

"Listen to me closely, Mr. Kline. I saw the way you looked at my daughter. I want you to know that if you give into, I should say embrace, your lesser animal instincts, if you touch her, I will cut off your nuts and feed them to you. Trust me, it hurts just as much down here as it does on Earth. Are we clear?"

Randy slowly nodded.

"Do you have anything else to say?"

Randy swallowed hard and glanced across the desk.

"You have anymore of those sandwiches?"

Satan smiled. His eyes returned to a light shade of red. The easy chair slid back into its original position.

"Of course. Can't eat tuna and mayo with a white suit. You may go."

Satan tossed a bag with a single sandwich inside towards Randy. Randy quickly stood, clutching his back and exited the office, shutting the door quickly behind him. He turned to leave, breathing a sigh of relief that ended in a whimper.

He was face to face with Satan's daughter.

***

"Oh...uh, hi. Uh..." Randy sputtered.

"Emily."

"Oh yes, Emily. Sorry. I've got to get going."

Emily giggled. Her business demeanor had left. Randy's fear melted away.

"What's that you've got there?" she asked, pointing to the bag.

"Oh nothing. It's just--"

"Relax. I know my dad doesn't eat the sandwiches. In fact, I think he might be a vegetarian."

"What an image," Randy whispered.

The two stood quietly. Randy was aware of the awkward silence. He broke it.

"Well I'd better get going."

"Of course," Emily said, nodding.

Randy navigated around the demon and began to make his way down the hall. He stopped suddenly, his hands running over the sandwich bag.

He sighed.

"What the hell."

He turned and called out.

"Emily?"

"Yes?"

"I have a few days here before I leave. I was wondering...would you- would you like to eat out? LIke get some food somewhere?"

He expected to suddenly find himself without testicles. Nothing came. He waited for the vixen to reject him.

"You want to go out? Like a date?" Emily asked.

"Not so much a date as a casual meeting of minds...yeah, a date.

"Aren't you afraid?"

"Of what?"

"Of me? I'm a demon! How do you know I won't feast on your heart the moment you arrive?"

"I'll take my chances," Randy said.

Emily's eyes had brightened. She spoke cautiously.

"What about my father?

"Oh he scares the crap out of me. But I think I can handle it."

"You're really not scared of me?"

"I don't have much to fear right now. I'm dead."

Emily nodded, clasping her hands together.

"Ok. You can come by my room. Number 713. Around eight."

Randy swallowed hard.

"Your room? I figured we'd go out to a restaurant or, you know, something."

"Trust me. You don't want to eat the food at our restaurants."

"Ok then. Eight o' clock?"

"Eight o' clock."

Randy turned and stumbled over his own feet. His face flushed. He turned back to Emily. She was smiling.

"Almost tripped," he whispered.

"I saw."

"I'll be going now."

"Bye, Randy."

Emily entered her father's office, shutting the door behind her.

Randy was halfway down the hall when he stopped in his tracks.

"Wait a minute. What the hell did I just do?"

***

"You did what!?" I shrieked, my eyes bulging.

Randy sat on the hotel bed, flipping through the TV channels.

"Have you seen this TV? Jesus, it's nothing but reruns of Big Brother and The Batchelor. This is hell."

"Randy."

"And the film selection. They're all Ben Affleck flicks."

"Randy!"

Randy sighed and let the remote fall to the floor.

"Ok. Ok. I may have asked Satan's daughter out even after he threatened to tear off my manhood and feed it to me. I also may have endangered our chances of ever getting back home. Is that what you wanted to hear?" he asked.

"Yes."

"So do you feel better?"

"Of course not!"

"Then what do you want from me?"

Randy passed by me and entered the bathroom, shutting the door in my face.

"I'm sorry, Bill, but I'm going."

"You're not. You're not going to put me at risk. I have a family, remember? You have a...a cat. What do you think will happen to Mittens?"

There was no reply from the other side. For minutes I stood, waiting for Randy to reply. Finally the door swung open and Randy stepped out, dressed in a new set of clothes. A horrid jacket T-Shirt and dress pants combination.

"Bill. You're my best friend. You should have seen her when we spoke. She's beautiful. More beautiful than anything or anyone I've ever seen. I feel something. She saw into me. Into my heart."

I shook my head and let out a sign, stepping aside.

"Get the hell out of here, Randy."

I grabbed hold of his shoulder as he passed.

"She'd better be worth it," I said with a smile.

"I gotta go."

"Get out of here."

I laid back on the bed. The door to the guest room opened and shut. I flicked on the TV and tuned into to Pearl Harbor with a grunt. On TV Ben Affleck fell in love, fought for his life, and cried like a baby, all without once changing his facial expression.

***

"You know. I've never spoken to a human after they'd entered my father's office."

"Really?"

"Not a one."

Randy sat beside Emily on a thread bare rug. She was dressed in pajamas. He looked strangely out of place in his mismatched wardrobe.

"You should have worn your old clothes. You look ridiculous," Emily said, snickering.

"You're one to talk. Who eats dinner in their pajamas?"

They laughed together. Randy watched as her hair fluttered across her cheek.

"Do you hate us?" he asked.

"Who?"

"Us humans. The creatures who this place is built for."

"Of course not."

"Really?"

Emily smiled.

"When I was a little girl, this was years ago. I would watch humans down on Earth. I would see the vileness, the corruption, the evil, yes. I got enough of that from my father. But I also saw the good. I saw the boundless love you humans feel for one another. The love that unites families and civilizations, the same love that begins wars across the seas and ends in death. I used to think it was silly that two humans would rather die together then live apart. But as I grew, I learned that you humans are no worse for wear than us demons. You have faults, you fight, you argue, you die. But it is the lives you lead that make me admire you so."

Emily stared into Randy's eyes.

"Come here."

"What?"

"Come over here," she said, motioning with her hands.

Randy pushed the TV trays aside and sat in front of the beautiful girl.

Emily raised her hands into the air, shaking them lightly. She steadied them on either side of Randy's face. She began to breath harshly.

"Emily?" Randy asked, his voice shaky.

"Shh."

From the palm of her hands a soft glow emerged. It started weakly, then slowly began to grow into a blinding light. She placed her hands upon Randy's face. A warmth spread through his body, dripping through his limbs. Then the glow died.

With a loud gasp Emily lowered her arms. She sat in silence for a few minutes. Randy said nothing. Emily stood and walked out of the livingroom, leaving him alone. She returned, clutching a small mirror to her chest. She dropped to her knees and placed the mirror in Randy's hands.

"Look into the glass. See your reflection," she whispered.

Randy clutched the mirror's handle tightly.

"If you made me break out in boils, I'm gonna kick your butt."

"Just look."

Randy raised the mirror to his face. It was normal. The tread marks of the truck that had ended his life were no longer there. He rubbed his hands over his face. The dull pain that had sparked whenever he did this was gone. He laughed with shock and disbelief.

"How--" he began.

"I'm a demon, remember?" Emily replied with a smirk.

***

I lay on my back, rubbing my hand over my chest, tracing the name of the 70's skin flick imprinted there.

"It's not so bad. This hell place. Aside from the fire and brimstone and Ben Affleck movie marathons, it's not so bad," I whispered, fully aware that I was alone inside the room.

Who was I kidding? It's exactly the same as on Earth, just a little bit worse. The people never smile. The food's always burned. The only restaurants around were Taco Bell's, and even then you had to worry about the ecoli. But the worst was my family. Knowing that I won't be able to wake up beside my wife every night if something goes wrong. Not kissing my daughter as she drifts to sleep underneath her Spongebob Squarepants bed covers. Only two more days. However long that was down here.

"Reminiscing, Mr. Bigsby?"

I rose to see Satan at the foot of the bed.

"Jesus Christ!" I shouted, toppling to the floor.

"Careful with the blasphemy. Not the best place for it."

"That's funny," I said, climbing back up, "I figured this would be the best place for it."

Satan shook his head and stood, meticulously straightening his suit.

"You mortals are always so naive. You're closer to God than you ever were before. You may be condemned, but that does not mean he has stopped loving you. Either way, you'll be close to him from now on."

The words rang through my head.

"What?"

"Your entry into heaven has been allowed."

"I can't go to heaven."

Satan stopped messing with his suit, he rubbed his ears.

"I'm sorry, I don't think I heard you correctly."

"I need to get back to my family."

Satan's lips pulled back to reveal a sharp grin.

"You can't go back, Mr. Bigsby. You're dead. It's against the rules."

"Fuck the rules! You made a mistake!"

Satan leapt forward, his hands locking around my throat. His eyes blazed with unholy darkness.

"Do not raise your voice to me. Do not tempt me to destroy you. Do not. You think because you are in hell you cannot die again? You can. And believe me it is a much more horrible fate than what we have here. I could fling you into the fires and laugh as I watch you burn."

His hand tightened. I began to choke.

"You can not go back. You can never go back."

"What if it was you?" I muttered, my face darkening to a shade of red.

The pressure loosened. I stared into the Dark Lord's eyes.

"What if you were separated from your child? Knowing that you will never see her grow? Nor love?"

"You humans know nothing of love."

"You're wrong."

"You can never feel true love. Never."

"You can give me a chance," I whispered, "for my family I'd walk through fire. I'd brave the towering inferno."

Satan released his grip. I fell to the floor, coughing and sputtering, rubbing my throat. He stood watching as I struggled to breathe.

"What would you give to be with them?" he asked.

"Anything."

"Even your soul?"

"Anything."

The darkness in the demon's eyes faded. He held out his hand and pulled me to my feet.

"I'm not going to take your soul. I'm going to speak to the big man again. I'm not promising you your life back. But I'll try."

"Why the sudden show of kindness?" I asked.

"It's not kindness, Mr. Bigsby. You are a father, just as I am. You owe it to your daughter to be there. To raise her."

"You know, you don't have to call me Mr. Bigsby. Bill is fine."

The Dark Lord chuckled and made his way to the front door.

"Enjoy the rest of your stay, Bill," he said, exiting the room.

***

"Why is your closet empty?"

"Been going through my stuff have you?"

Emily and Randy sat together on the livingroom couch.

"No. The door is wide open. Only thing you have in there is a stopwatch. Why?"

Emily shook her head.

"It's stupid," she said.

"Tell me."

"You remember what I told you, about my claustrophobia?"

"Of course."

"It's not just that. It's the dark. Can you imagine? A demon afraid of the dark. I was trapped for so long before my father saved me. Trapped for so long."

Randy pushed back her hair. She was shaking.

"Two hundred years locked away. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

"I try to stay in there. I try to make it longer each day. But I still feel the fear. The terror. When you go numb from the terror. You can't move. And it's horrible."

Randy stood quickly, taking Emily's hand in his.

"Come with me. I'm going to help you."

"No. You're acting ridiculous," Emily said, pulling slightly.

"You can't let this haunt you."

They stood before the closet. Emily's face had lost all its color.

"I can't do this, Randy."

"You can."

"Please."

"You can look at me. Look into my eyes."

She met his eyes. Her blue eyes, an angel's eyes, absorbed him in their gaze.

"I never lied to you," he whispered, "I'm still a bit claustrophobic myself."

Her smile was divine. He continued.

"Nothing will happen to you."

He held her hands to his chest.

"I promise."

"Ok."

He led her into the closet and shut the door. They sat close, each clutching the other's hands.

"You ready?" he asked.

"Yeah."

The lights went out. Total darkness surrounded them.

"Just hold my hand."

Emily began to shake. She tightened her grip. Randy continued to comfort her.

"I'm here. I'm here. You are not alone. I am here. Nothing will happen. I am here."

"I'm scared," Emily said, her voice cracking.

"Speak to me. Tell me what you feel."

"I feel fear. Like I'm lost in the darkness."

Randy rubbed her cheek with his free hand.

"I will not let you go. Nothing will take you."

Emily's breaths grew more frantic. She shook harder.

"Aren't you scared?" she asked.

"I am. But you are here. You are here to keep me. And I you. I am safe."

She embraced him, tears falling down her cheeks.

"I have to go, Randy. I can't make it."

He held her close.

"Listen to my heart. This heart will beat for you. As long as it beats you will be safe. Do not fear the dark. It will not hurt you. I am here."

Emily sat with her ear to Randy's chest, listening to the soft rhythm of his heart. Her breathing slowed. She stopped shaking. In her mind she counted the beats. She glanced up through the darkness, not seeing Randy's eyes but knowing they were there.

"Better?" he asked.

Without another word she moved up and kissed his lips. Randy felt that he was in heaven, that everything would be all right so long as he held the woman close.

The two sat there, embraced, as the stop watch continued to tick away.

***

I kneeled alone before the hotel bed, my hands clasped together, my head bowed. The TV droned on, but I had shut it from my mind. I began to pray.

"Lord, you may not hear me, you may not even know me, but I know you. I am your servant, your follower. I trust in you.

I cleared my throat and continued.

"Lord, I'm a simple man. I never had much. I never cared to. I gave everything for my wife, my child. Everything. I need them. I have to be with them. My death was not meant to be. It was a mistake. I know not if you exist here, in this damned place, but I have no choice but to pray."

My throat was dry.

"I can't do this, Lord. I can't live without them. I can wait, but not forever. So I ask you now, a man on the brink of insanity, let me back into the world. Let me live again."

Tears began to roll down my face. They tasted bitter.

"I am prepared to take my life in this place if all is lost. I will not stay here. I will not enter the light. I do not care what happens to me. Without my child, without my love, I am nothing."

I continued to kneel. The TV went on.

"Please."

From down the hall the screaming started.

***

"I have to go."

"Don't. Just stay a while longer."

Emily and Randy stood beside the front door, each not wanting to let go of the other. Emily held him close, whispering in his ear.

"You're leaving now, aren't you?" Emily asked.

"I'm not supposed to be dead."

"No--"

"But I can handle a premature passing."

Emily stood back. Randy stared into her swirling eyes. Blue like the sea. Not red.

"What?"

"I love you, Emily. You're the sun, the moon, all the stars in the sky."

Emily laughed, tears falling down her face at the same time.

"You're so lame," she whispered.

"I never said I was a romantic. Not even a hopeless one."

"You could be a hopeless romantic if you really tried."

They kissed. Randy opened the door and stepped outside.

"I'll see you later," Emily said, closing the door.

Randy stood staring at the door for the longest, wondering if there was anything else he should say. He smiled and felt his face, the warmth of Emily's hands still lingered. He turned to leave and froze. The blood in his veins ran as cold as ice water.

He stood face to face with Emily's father, the Prince of Darkness.

"Mr. Kline," Satan said.

"Frank."

"You realize what you've done?"

"I do."

"You understand the consequences?"

"I do."

"Good."

Randy stepped away from the door. Satan's eyes were back to the fearsome darkness.

"You're not the first man to disobey me."

"Did any of them ever tell you to piss off?" Randy asked.

"That would be a first."

"Then piss off."

Satan advanced upon Randy, his hands thrashing. His teeth lengthened, ending in sharp points.

"You know not true anger, Mr. Kline."

"Call me Randy."

Satan raised his hand level with Randy's chest. His outstretched fingers closed into a fist.

Randy gasped, clutching his chest. His heart beat faster and faster, his breaths growing hectic. He struggled to breathe.

"I love her," he sputtered.

"Humans are not capable of love. You lie, you hurt, you cheat, you steal, you kill. That is why I admire your race. But you are not capable of love."

Randy fell to his knees, his hands on the floor.

"I...love..."

"You are not capable of love."

Randy's knees buckled. He rolled onto his back, staring up at the demon whose daughter he loved. He smiled, his heart slowing to a stop.

"She no longer fears the dark," he whispered.

Satan stopped. He swooped down, hovering over the man.

"What did you say?"

The door of the apartment swung open. Emily stepped into the doorway. She glanced from her father to Randy. Satan ignored her, repeating the question.

"What did you say?"

But Randy was already dead.

***

Emily had been screaming for some time when I arrived at her doorway. Satan stood in the corner, his back turned to his weeping daughter. I stared down at the body of my best friend.

Then I was on him. I leapt forward and knocked the Prince of Darkness to the ground, slamming my fists into his face. He laid there and took it, blow after blow, his expression of sadness never changing.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"I kept punching. The only one who could get me home was being pummeled by my fists. But I kept going. I could hear Emily shouting.

"Stop!"

I froze, my hand raised.

She sat beside Randy, her hands over his chest. She breathed harshly, her eyes closed. The glow began to rise from her palms. I backed away from Satan, watching as Emily worked. Satan sat up, his hair tussled but his face unscathed.

"Emily?" he whispered.

"Shut up."

The glow reached its peak. Emily pressed her hands to Randy's chest. The light began to spread through his body. Emily arched her back as the light died. Her breaths slowed. She laid down, her ear to Randy's chest. She laid there, waiting. Waiting for some sound. She began to weep, holding the dead man.

"I love you," she sobbed.

From far away the sound arose. A single beat. Another. Then another. The rhythm started. Randy's eyes flew open and he gasped for breath. Emily kissed him again and again as he struggled to sit up. He glanced around wildly, staring at me and Satan.

"Took you long enough, Bill," he said, glancing over at Satan, "you kick his ass for me?"

I nodded dumbly.

"Yeah. I got him pretty good."

"Yeah," Satan agreed.

Randy slowly raised his hand, pointing towards the dark prince.

"And you...are a son of a bitch."

He passed out.

***

I stood outside of Satan's office, my ear pressed to the door. The muffled voices inside spoke hurriedly, giving me nothing to latch onto. The door swung open and I stumbled back, tripping over my own feet. Satan's head poked out from behind the door.

"Listening in?" he asked.

"Trying."

He stepped outside and thrust out his hand, helping me to my feet for the second time.

"Sorry about putting the beat down on you, Frank."

"It's fine. Didn't feel a thing. Sorry about killing your friend."

"It's fine. But I'm probably not the one you should be talking to."

Satan sighed.

"I know," he said, "don't think Emily will ever forgive me."

"Give her some time. You've got plenty of it."

"For a human, you're ahead of your species, Bill."

"That's good to know."

Satan stared off down the hallway, into the distance.

"He really does love her," he whispered.

"I though you didn't believe in love."

"I don't believe that you as a species can experience it truly and wholly. But who knows? Who cares? My daughter loves that man, that dentist. That's all that matters."

I watched as a demon spoke of love. It was a profound thing.

"Did you ever love anyone?" I asked.

"I did. A long time ago."

"Who?"

"The big man."

"God?"

"Yes. And he loved us. All of us. We were his children, his family."

I shook my head.

"Didn't you try to overthrow him?"

"You could say we had a little fight."

"But you loved him."

Satan nodded, tightening his tie.

"With everything I was. I loved him."

We stood in silence. It was awkward. Satan coughed, returning to his business-like tone.

"Speaking of the big man, I've just finished talking with him in my office," he said.

"God's in there?"

"Yes. In my office. He's arranged for a single man transport back to life."

"Single? But what about Randy?"

"Trust me, Bill. I don't think he has any plans of going back."

I understood.

"There's a bus waiting out front to take you home."

Satan held out his hand. We shook.

"It's been nice knowing you, Frank."

"And you, Mr. Bigsby."

I watched as Satan turned and entered his office. I glanced inside, just before the door shut. My jaw dropped.

Sitting in the middle of the office, dressed in all white and donning the same top hat and handcuff set on his left wrist, was Mr. Leonard. He turned around and tipped me his hat. The bullet hole was gone. The door shut.

***

The Hell Bus was parked out front, rumbling as it waited for me to board. Randy stood outside the bus, waiting for me as I approached.

"Look Bill, there's something I need to tell you," he began, but I waved his words aside.

"I already know."

"What?"

"Satan told me everything."

"Huh..."

I slapped him on the back.

"Don't worry, man. I'm proud of you. You found someone you love and you're staying with her. There's nothing better in this world."

From the hotel entrance, Emily emerged. She waved in our direction.

I could see Randy glancing over my shoulder. I grabbed his arm.

"Go to her."

Nothing needed to be said. I watched as my best friend returned to the woman of his dreams. The sweetest demon in hell.

I turned and stepped inside the bus. A towering beast sat in the driver's seat, its horns and teeth grotesquely twisted. It turned its head towards me, its red eyes ablaze.

"Hey Harold," I said, taking a seat.

"Hey there, partner. Looks like yer headin' home. Where's the other guy?"

"Fell in love with Satan's daughter. Decided to stay here with her."

"I hear ya."

Once again I couldn't tell whether he believed me.

Harold flicked a switch and the doors to the bus shut.

"Let's hit the road!" Harold shouted as the Hell Bus pulled out of the driveway.

I watched as Randy and Emily waved me on. I thanked the big man for all he'd done. I was heading home.