Dead Hour Page 2

  This whole experience however, created a pit in Arthur’s stomach. Something almost felt wrong, not with the moment or with Sam, but with the way he just wanted to fall into every word she said. She was radiating, and Arthur just wanted to know everything she could possibly tell him. They fell asleep next to one another, as the stars watched over them.

  The next morning was the same temperature as the night before, and seemed exactly the same as yesterday. Arthur felt in perfect condition, except for a slight nod of hunger forming in his middle. Arthur, having three of the tree woman’s fruit left, offered Sam two.

  “Thanks, but I don’t get hungry. I’d imagine it’s because I’m hook up to a feeding machine back home. Well, my body is anyway.” She said, grateful of the offer. They continued their climb on renewed feet, singing songs and trading stories.

  “You never told me what you did for a living, Sam.” Arthur said, remembering after she further enquired about his own line of work.

  “I’m a writer, actually, so I get the whole underappreciated artist gig.”

  “Oh, so you write novels? Have I read any of them?” He asked excitedly. Arthur was an avid reader from a young age, a fact that made him unpopular with the other students in grammar school.

  “Haha, no. I write scripts for television.” Her smile faded, and she looked at her feet as they walked. “I wish I had written a novel. I always pushed it off, saying next year, or the year after. And now all I think about is how my years could very likely be up.” Arthur placed his hand on hers, and their eyes met.

  “You will write a novel, and a damned good one. I’m talking classic. Something to be read in schools for years to come, and kids will curse your name and wonder why they have to write book entries about it.” She smiled and nodded. They hugged, and continued walking up the path. Arthur thought about the hug the whole way, almost forgetting where they were even headed.

  At the top of the mountain path, a small pool sat, light wind creating currents in the water. Humble flowers grew around it, and small dove-like creatures swam in the water, their beaks longer and wings with a running orange stripe down their bodies. A statue rested on the other side of the pool of a woman with long flowing dress. She was remarkable.

  Arthur observed the creatures in the pond that seemed oblivious to his presence.

  “I call them Water-wafters, they almost seem to slide through the water like air through a crack.” Sam kneeled next to the small pond and picked one up, holding it gently in her delicate hands. The creature, Arthur now noticed, had no legs, being completely smooth underneath. Sam took notice of Arthur’s realization.

  “They are born in this pool, raise their children here, and pass away here.” She spoke softly, caressing the now cooing water bird. “It’s tragically beautiful. They never know what goes on right beyond their outer limits. Other creatures with new ideas, different ways of life, just out of reach.” She passed the bird to Arthur, and it looked up at him for a few moments, then called to what appeared to be its mate. Arthur crouched and released the lovely Water-wafter, which then went and swam next to its mate.

  Sam and Arthur stared at one another for a moment, and Sam nodded to the statue.

  “She is the gate keeper, Arthur. You must call to her.” Arthur looked at the stone woman, searching for his voice.

  “Uh.. Um. Hello? Gate keeper?” The statue rattled slightly, and Arthur grabbed Sam’s hand, tensing up. The rock shined, and then dimmed, revealing a woman where the stone had been. She was a spitting image of the statue, or rather, the statue was the image of her.

  “Hello, Arthur.” She sang sweetly, everything about her becoming instantly inviting. “Samantha.” She nodded at Sam, who smiled back.

  “It’s lovely to see you again Martha.”

  “Now that our polite greetings are over, shall we get down to business?” She did not wait for a reply, and continued speaking. “Arthur,” She said, turning to him. “You by now know that you’re dead, correct?”

  “Y-yes miss.”

  “Oh, call me Martha,” She beamed, her tightly curled brown hair bobbing up and down. “Now according to my charts,” She reached into the air, and a clipboard appeared out of nothingness. “You are not to die for another seventy five years, one month, and twenty seven days. While it is true death waits for no one, death also doesn’t like uninvited visitors.” She turned quickly to Sam. “Except in your case dear, that isn’t your fault.”

  “Honestly,” Arthur cleared his throat. “I’m here as a science experiment. The man performing the experiment is supposed to bring me back at anytime.” Martha laughed a light, airy chuckle.

  “It’s so cute that you humans think you can play with death like this.” Her beaming smile turned upside-down, and she floated in closer. “But it doesn’t work this way. You’re here, and that’s it.” Martha drifted completely over the pond and it’s now still inhabitants. She reached out and soft and gentle hand, and stroked Arthur’s face.

  “Now, come with me, you’re journey is over just the same.” A single teardrop fell down Arthur’s face, his mind completely unable to process what was happening around him.

  “You can’t do that Martha! Arthur!” Sam cried, “Run away!” He didn’t budge, and simply shut his eyes.

  “He can’t go now. His time has been forfeited.” Martha reached down took Arthur’s hand. Arthur, like the beautiful woman, began to hover over the ground. They floated seamlessly across the pond and into a now opening, shimmering portal. In his last moments in that realm, as the only person that mattered watched as he floated away from her, Arthur turned his head with all his might, and whispered goodbye.

  Samantha Rose Vanner had never been a passive girl. She ran down the mountain trail, her feet pounding on the dirt. She soared through the air as an eagle would, just less majestically. While the climb up had taken a day, the way down had used severally less time, due to gravity and anger. She wondered how someone would just steal another person from their life like that, and why Arthur was even here. If she ever woke up, she decided, she would visit Shelby and beat her numb. Unknown to Arthur, Sam did know Shelby, and the two had had brief contact. They were both higher up on the social ladder of the city, which meant Arthur must be from the same city. Which also meant they could have crossed paths numerous times.

  She had heard whispers of the offbeat courtship between the heiress and the lowly painter, and how Shelby strung him along for her own amusement. But this had also been amusing for Sam and circle of friends, and a tiny voice in her head scolded her from even laughing at someone that devoted to anything. She leapt to the bank of the river, just before sundown, and into her now seemingly empty home. Arthur’s presence had been short, yet lasting. She gathered a makeshift axe from her home, and left across the river.

  Fortunately for Arthur, the road to the trail had been relatively peaceful and easy. Sam, however, knew this often wasn’t the case. She couldn’t recall the amount of time she had been in the strange land, but she remembered for most of it she struggled on the other side of the river, fending off beasts and tricksters alike. She may have appeared frail and delicate, but she could, as her father would say, “take a punch, and send it right back!”.

  In her time on the other side, she had heard creatures talk of a more powerful being, a creature that enjoyed the pain and misery it created, and challenged the gate itself. Martha had once told Sam that the creature was the reason she had died on Earth to begin with.

  “It has more power than one conciseness should have.” Martha told, as Sam held a local inhabitant of the pond. “Being able to tamper with the other planets… It’s sickening, really.” Her hair shaking in disapproval.

  “Where does it live?” She had asked, wanting to know if the small tales she had heard were true.

  “Where would the devil live, but in a hot, unforgiving, place.”

  “So, a volcano? Like in movies?”

  “Oh, no, no.” Martha said, walking past her own statue, an
d to the edge of the mountain peak. She pointed past the river with its guardian. “Nothing pure can pass the river, it...” She searched for a proper verb. “It schemes over there. When the minds from Earth come in, they can go two ways. One leads to this place, the other to it.” Martha turned to look at Sam, who had released her friendly companion. “Hence the whole Heaven and Hell being opposites thing. Which way you choose to walk is completely up to you.”

  Sam now knew that the demon was the only thing that could help her. Axe in hand, she walked down the path that Arthur had walked the day before, and the sun set behind her. The path was plain, and took her through a mountain pass. It felt eerie, and Sam held the axe in waiting, ready for anything to take her. Rocks stuck out obtrusively, and the path became narrower and narrower before releasing her. She wondered why she didn’t remember that on her way to the river all that time ago.

  The mountain opened to a wide valley, and Sam ran along quietly. Her feet crunched the dirt and she breathed heavily, almost panting. The labor of running became harder and harder, as she passed a dead tree. Still, she marched on, the now blue sun eventually rising as she neared the end of the almost eternal clearing. As she continued, the path started to slowly turn from dirt to hardened, purplish concrete. As if out of nowhere, the valley was gone, and Sam was in a city lined with skyscrapers. It looked just as it had in her memory.

  She walked quietly along, until a gleam caught her eye, waving in front of her. The light was catching off a mass huddled on the ground, and Sam approached with caution. A golden man lay curled, its face hidden from the world.

  “This must be Arthur’s golden man.” She said to herself. The noise of Sam’s voice snapped the creature back to its surroundings, and it looked up at Sam for a split second before lashing its vial, dripping tongue at her. She recoiled quickly, but the creature’s tongue had tied itself around her wrist, burning her in the process. She screamed and brought her axe high in the air, before crashing down through the thing keeping the two intertwined. With its tongue decapitated, the creature howled and spat in pain. Sam took this as her queue to leave, and ran past it. She didn’t look back, though the howls feel right in her ear.

  Sam ran as the city began to morph around her. Buildings faded out of sight, and a vast emptiness kept their place. The horizon had become nothing, and the sun over head was a vortex spewing white light. She began to understand the phase ‘don’t go into the light’. Everything around her was flat and whitewashed. Only after moments of walking in the empty plain did she notice the temperature rising. Sweat dripped down her brow as she pushed through the hot air. The white, polished ground began to feel sticky, almost dragging her feet back. Sam desperately wanted to turn back, but she knew she couldn’t. Arthur needed her, and she had never been needed before. Wanted, yes, but truly needed? She wasn’t going to let him down.

  Sam walked for what felt like days, through she knew it had only been a few hours. Finally, a pointed platform fell onto the horizon. It glistened in the white sun, and called to her. She busted into a sprint, her feet making a clapping sound as she sloppily ran toward the place she had been dreading the whole way over. The closer she got the more details her eyes hungrily drew in. A few polished marble steps in a crescent shape led up to a pure white thrown, and behind it, golden gates shining as brilliantly as the first star in creation. As she drew even closer, she noticed a figure, also clad in white, with a long white beard sitting, a fiddle in his hand. The music reached Sam, and her soul started to melt. It was the most beautiful piece she had ever heard.

  She started to slow, and reached the first of the few steps. They reflected her own image and she released how ragged she had gotten. Her arm bled where the creature had touched her, and she suddenly noticed the stinging sensation coming from it. She clasped it with her other hand, applying pressure.

  “Out of sight, out of mind, they say.” The man on the thrown said, continuing his ballad. Sam walked up the stairs, and stood in front of him, tall and proud, though inside she felt as she were on her last leg.

  “Who are you?” She inquired, a light and sharp tone attached to the simple words.

  “They call me a lot of things,” The man replied. “But think about where you are. The light, the golden gates, the man with the beard.” He chuckled. “It could only be one place.” Sam glared at him for a long while, thinking on how to retort. It seemed as if he wasn’t aware of who she was, or rather, what she knew.

  “So... This is heaven? Or rather, the gate to heaven?” Sam asked.

  “One could most certainly say that.” He continued fiddling, the music growing in slightly quicker.

  “You know, you almost had me.” Sam smirked. He looked at her, raising an eyebrow. “But everyone knows the devil plays the fiddle.” The man smiled widely, and began playing a tune so quickly Sam couldn’t distinguish the individual notes.

  “Clever girl.” The nondescript man with the white beard started to change into a horrible creature. A giant, glowing horn erupted out of his head, then sprouted two others at its bottom. His nose stuck out, and morphed into a snout, and his eyes grew larger then separated, forming three close together eyes. His arms grew larger and scaly, and his fingers grew thin and pointed, all the while gracefully playing the fiddle. His lower body turned into that of a bull, giving him a rough appearance. He stood up and locked eyes with Sam.

  “So who told you this was the gate to hell? Humans are generally not that bright.” He laughed, thinking of all the elderly people he tricked into hell.

  “Martha.”

  “Oh, I hate that bitch. Always trying to spoil my fun.”

  “I hate her too.” Sam remarked. It was Martha’s fault she was here.

  “Oh really? And just why is that, little bird?” He reached out and stroked her face, stopping his song. Sam stood tall, showing no reaction to the contact.

  “She took somebody whose time wasn’t up.”

  “Punctual Martha? I find that rather hard to believe.” His deep voice resonated through her whole body.

  “Well, it’s true. And I want him back.” She said, determined.

  “Him? Love interest?” He smiled, showing sharp and crooked teeth.

  “Does it matter? I just want him back. So go beat her up or something.” He laughed, fully and heartily.

  “It doesn’t work that, bird. Now just because Martha took him into heaven, doesn’t mean he’s going to stay there. If she sends him my way, I’ll happily release him to you.” Sam was about to retort, when she was struck by what the devil had just said to her.

  “Y-you will?”

  “Hey, I’m not a bad guy. I just look scary. This,” He waved his arms around their surroundings. “This is just my day job. I’m not trapped here, and I’m not evil. This is just what the big guy asked me to do. So this is what I do.” Sam absorbed the information.

  “But Martha said-“ He laid a thin finger across her mouth.

  “Martha lies. But she most likely told you I do deals, which is correct. I can give you whatever you desire in exchange for something of equal value.” He said, his voice smooth and knowing.

  “Define equal value.” Sam said, wary of her opponent.

  “You really are a sharp one, young lady.” He laughed in a lighter tone. “I can’t just snap my fingers and give you whomever. But I can give you something to get you past Heaven’s Gate.” Sam waited for the devil to continue. “… And in exchange, I want your first born child.” Sam made a disgusted face.

  “Why?”

  “I need to create an equal trade. One love for another.” He spoke.

  “That’s poetically unfair.”

  “That’s afterlife.” He smirked at his own joke, and then held out his hand. “Deal?” Sam stared begrudgingly at the hand. She lightly placed her hand in his. She didn’t need to think.

  “Deal.” They shook. A light grew around the clasped hands, and the deal was made. “Now, how are we gonna do this?”

  “Simple.” He
held out his hand, and a dagger appeared. “This can cut almost anything. It can pry open the portal; it can free your boyfriend. Hell, it could kill Martha, which I recommend.” Sam took the knife cautiously, its hilt made of shining ivory. “It won’t cut unless the user desires, so don’t worry about accentually stabbing yourself.”

  “Wait,” Sam hesitated, still going over the dagger, noticing the purple jewel at the bottom. “What did you mean when you said almost anything?”

  “Obviously, it can’t kill me. Wouldn’t want you going back on our deal in the future.” Sam raised an eyebrow.