The Dogs of Hell: Hellbound
Chapter One
BANG! BANG! BANG! That was what I remembered last. That and pain, an odd physical and mental torture I have never been able to put into words. Excruciating maybe, though that doesn’t seem to describe it accurately. It was like being hit over and over again, feeling the bullets pierce my skin and cut through various organs only to tear through more skin. My head felt ripped in two—rip, split, pop.
And then came the sensation of vertigo, that twisting, gut-wrenching feeling of falling into endless white. Like being submerged into light yet, at the same time, an overwhelming nothingness. Then, as if I had blinked, I was in a sea of gray fog. There were darker silhouettes of walls surrounding me with splotches of paler gray where windows and a door could be.
A murmur of noise—a subtle hum—made it feel like my ears were stuffed with cotton. I knelt there, curled around my knees, gripping the sleeves of my shirt, and staring into the fog. It was only for a moment, though it could have been hours. Just staring.
I think my brain had to catch up with the rest of me. When it did, that was when I finally snapped out of it. When a thought finally broke through the numbness I was feeling, hitting me like a ton of bricks and, somehow, I knew without a doubt, without question, that this sudden knowledge was absolute fact.
I was dead.
That was a monumental moment, coming to terms with that. After all, that was a lot to process—dying, being dead. A person doesn’t experience that daily. And if someone did, I felt sorry for the poor bastard. But once I got over the news, I could move, releasing my death grip on my clothes and attempting to stand.
That didn’t go over well.
My legs refused to cooperate, having gone asleep and causing me to fall back on my ass, and that stupid pins and needles feeling engulfed my lower half. I cursed a lot then. I hated that shit in life, and now I had to suffer through it in death. Gimme a break.
Soft laughter echoed around me, and suddenly a pale hand was outstretched in front of me. Feminine, dainty, and with nails painted a sparkling purple. Unexpected. And when I followed the slender arm to the face of its owner, I found myself staring into the large, vibrant violet eyes of a petite woman whose smiling face was framed by rolling black curls. She seemed out of place among the gray fog, a splash of color with her floral sundress and bright red lips. There was an air of familiarity about her, though I couldn’t place why. My confusion must have shown on my face because the woman laughed again.
“It’s just a hand, silly. You’re supposed to take it.”
I blinked, looking up to her face again and blushing slightly. I could feel the slight heat on my cheeks and couldn’t help but think how weird that felt, “I know what a hand is.”
“Do you?” She teased all twisted mirth, wiggling her fingers to bring my attention back to them. I furrowed my brow, thinking there was no way someone this small and delicate could pull me up. But when I looked up to tell her my thoughts on the matter, the smile was still there, as well as a look that expressed her doubt in my intelligence. Her eyes daring me to see if she was as weak as I thought.
I frowned and grabbed her hand, finding it oddly firm and strong. Then she was pulling me up on my feet. She was a good head shorter than me, and I couldn’t help but look at her with shocked amazement as our hands dropped away. I almost blurted, “Who the hell are you?” but she beat me by speaking first.
“If you’re ready, it’s time we head out. You’ve been here long enough, I think, and we don’t want you to miss the boat.”
“What? What boat?” I asked, looking around again. Still churning, gray fog and shadowy walls. Nothing resembling a water source big enough to carry any boat, and no light source to indicate the time.
She just continued to smile, “I’m here to take you to Limbo, and the ferry is waiting at the dock. You seemed a little lost, and that’s no good. You don’t seem the type who should be lost. So, I’m here, and I’ll take you there. After that, you’re on your own.”
Seemed pretty straightforward. But still… “I don’t under-stand.”
Her smile changed then, still warm and friendly, but one with sympathy instead of humor. “You will.” And she held out her hand once more.
I looked at her hand again, filled with a mixture of emotions. Confusion, doubt, weakness, and a small piece of anger was all thrown in there. However, looking at those painted nails—something so familiar, so normal—intuition compelled me to trust. A gut feeling telling me to take a chance.
Besides, I’m dead. What harm can this tiny lady and her deceptive strength really do to me?
With that thought lingering in my head, I took her offered hand. An odd warmth spread from her to me this time, and when I looked at her, she was all smiles and sunshine, and I knew I had made the right choice. With her fingers linked in mine, I followed her through a door—just a patch of lighter gray among the darker blur of the wall. As we walked through the threshold, everything suddenly felt so final. Accepting I was dead, moving on. The proverbial shutting of the door on one life for the next. It was slightly depressing. But I didn’t look back.
As we walked, the fog that at first seemed continuous and all-engulfing began to dissipate, and things started to become clearer. I could distinguish between individual buildings, lamp posts, and other objects, but there remained a strange haze about them, like looking through misted glass. The exception was the road before us, which I was being led down, all shining, slick asphalt, like after a rain, and painted yellow lines. I could hear the woman’s shoes clicking on it, and the dull thud of my boots, the only clear sounds among the distant murmur of noise that followed us out of the building. Insistent, almost like the backdrop sound of a crowded room.
The most disconcerting thing about the whole walk was shivers of movement around us, strange outlines of silvery light. Those were creepy. It felt like we were walking through a sea of ghosts. Maybe we were. Whatever the things were still bothered me, and I may have crept a little closer to the small woman’s side. Unconsciously, of course.
“Don’t worry,” she said, breaking the silence between us. “It’s not always like this. It’s just like this now because we’re In Between,” my guide informed me, looking around with only mild interest. “Depending on the person, it can be even clearer, but I’m guessing you haven’t been down this way much.”
Down this way? “Guess not…” I mumbled, avoiding one of those silver linings that flashed in front of us, angling myself behind her. “So, being In Between means I’m not dead yet or…”
“Sorry to burst your bubble, buddy, but you’re dead. Didn’t you come to that conclusion earlier?” She smirked at me over her shoulder.
“Yeah, but I’ve been wrong before. I guess I was…hoping,” I replied.
“Eh, nothing wrong with hoping. You’re still getting over the shock, that’s all. You’re doing a lot better than some, taking it all in stride. I like that. It’s not easy accepting the fact when it’s unexpected. You probably had years left in you!”
“It would have been nice to make it past thirty. My brother and I had a running bet that neither of us would see forty. Guess I lost.”
After another shimmer passed by us, she pulled me forward to once more walk beside her, and hooked her arm in mine, giving it a reassuring pat. “As they say, ‘shit happens.’”
“You need to work on your bedside manner, lady,” I said, giving her an odd look, marveling at the ease in which she maneu-vered me. Her steps hadn’t even faltered.
“I suppose I might.” She nodded, a slender finger resting on her ruby lips in thought, “but you don’t appear the type for babying or soft encouragement. I’m just playing to my audience.”
Her head tilted up to look me in the eye with that cocky, know-it-all smile once more in place, vibrant eyes daring me to say she was wrong. I knew she wasn’t. Never liked being fussed over, and I hated being treated like I was stupid or a child, even though my intelligence could be questionable at times and childishness could come and go. I should have found it strange that she knew me so well. But like before, with my sudden awareness of being dead, I knew who she was without question. The sudden knowledge gave me goosebumps.
“You’re Death,” I stated, and her hand felt very cold against my arm with those words.
“One of them, yes.” She gave me her other hand to shake and introduced herself, “Name’s Kristi.”
One of them? After an awkward little shake, I returned with, “Michael.”
“Michael, eh? Well, nice to meet you, Michael.”
“Likewise, Kristi. By the way, where’s you cowl and scythe?”
“I only where black on Wednesday, and I could break a nail carrying around a scythe,” she winked.
I gave an amused snort, then looked around again, and noticed some of the buildings were becoming clearer, their details less misty and abstruse. It reminded me of when I was seven and received glasses for the first time, though the prescription wasn’t quite perfect yet. Some things kept that gray, distorting haze, especially objects and buildings far in the distance. What I could see had my head spinning around in slight disbelief as I began to recognize places, shops, and familiar street names.
And as we crossed a street, one of those silvery shimmers of light that I had been avoiding caught my attention. It had more substance and, as I stared harder at it, I began to distinguish features. A hand waved above a balding head and earnest face. Two others passed by us, one with braided hair and swishing skirt while the smaller one smiled brightly up at the other, a little upturned nose and huge eyes. There were more and more silvery outlines with recognizable features, and I blurted without thinking, “They’re people!”
Kristi nodded, “Yup. The living to be precise. Told you things would become clearer.”
“The living?” I asked, watching another person standing on a corner who walked across the crosswalk as the signal changed. So, my ghost theory was close to the mark. I just forgot that, technically, I was the ghost.
“Mm-hmm.”
“Do they feel us? I mean, if we accidentally pass through them or something?” I asked while trying to avoid a group of girls in matching school uniforms who chatted excitedly as they walked through us.
“Sometimes.” Kristi smiled, watching me with amusement. “You shouldn’t concern yourself with it. Not something you’ll have to deal with after today.”
“And that means?” I raised an eyebrow, finding her cryptic nature slightly unsettling.
“You’ll see,” she replied, green eyes filled with a mischievous gleam, obviously enjoying my unease. “It’s easier to see than to completely explain, and more entertaining! Besides, I’m bad at explaining how the whole mess works. I’ll leave that to the professionals.”
“Professionals, huh?”
Her lips curled upward into her customary grin, “You’ll see. You’re halfway there.”
She pointed in front of us, and there was a building without that strange misty haze nestled between two similar structures. It looked like a set of strip mall office buildings. One building had a sign I recognized for a chain of dentists, while another had scissors and a comb, with a swirling red and white barber shop pole. The building Kristi had pointed to had no signs or other distinctive markings that stated their purpose from their neighbors. I didn’t get a sense of foreboding or sense of welcome. It was rather anticlimactic really.
Kristi said while unlinking our arms, “And this is where we part ways. It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Michael.”
I turned to her, shocked. “What? I thought you were taking me to a boat?”
“You need to listen better, buddy. I said I was taking you to Limbo. The ferry is waiting for you on the other side.” Kristi laughed. “Silly boy.”
“Really? This is Limbo? You’re joking.” I looked at the building again with disbelief. “There’s no way.”
“Well, there’s only one way to find out, isn’t there?” she teased. “It’s not that bad really.”
I grimaced, wrinkling my nose. “Easy for you to say.”
Kristi huffed, putting her hands on her hips and planting her feet apart in a determined stance. “Am I really going to have to walk you through those doors like a child and hold your hand through the whole business? I thought you were made of tougher stuff!”
I snorted. “Whatever. You barely know me.”
She lifted a slim black eyebrow in a wordless question of “Wanna bet?” We had a brief staring match before I sighed, knowing I was only delaying the inevitable and not really knowing why. This was one step in the process of death, wasn’t it? When I was younger, I remember reading a few legends and stories about this: Limbo and the ferry. I’ll admit, I hadn’t been paying attention. I had been bored and found a book filled with pictures to distract me until my uncle pulled me away to more important things. I should’ve looked at that book closer or, at least, read through it again.
“Fine,” I said, before walking toward the glass door.
As I grabbed the black metal handle, Kristi called out, “Michael.”
I looked back at her, curious, and she gave me an encouraging smile. “Good luck.”
And then, as abruptly as she had appeared, she was gone.