Lesson One - a short story Page 3

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  The odd thing was, he was quite sure he was dead. It was odd because he was still in his body, breathing, refreshed and —

  With a guttural grunt, he physically shook off the spurious state of well-being. It was a lie! This was pure Hell!

  The thought seemed to explode in his mind. He gasped — a wretched, pitiful, childish little peep, for he suddenly felt a new fear, like nothing he’d known in life. Fear even greater than he had of the shadow thing.

  Oh — my — God!

  He looked around wildly, relieved to find that Alberto was again perched placidly on a rock behind him.

  Fred said, “I am dead, right?”

  “You know you are, Fred.”

  “But — but then, does that mean this is —? I mean it can’t be. It wouldn’t be right —!”

  “I know what you’re thinking, but —”

  Fred interrupted, rushing on, “I led a good life! I didn’t cheat people! I loved my wife! I supported my kids into their late twenties! I contributed to charity. I gave decent tips! I recycled. I volunteered at all the Moose fund raisers! Well, I missed two because we were —”

  Alberto silenced him with a wave of the hand. And It angered Fred that the man seemed a little bored, no, impatient, as he said, “I’m sure you did all those things, Fred. But I’m afraid you missed the point.”

  “Missed the —!” Fred tried to imagine what that meant as he nervously scanned the terror-sky. “What, was it church? I didn’t go to church enough? Really?”

  “Nothing to do with it, lad.”

  “Then what in the goddamn hell is going on?!” Then he added quickly, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to —”

  This time Alberto interrupted, “Swear all you like, lad. Sure I don’t give a damn. I was about to say, you’re not in the other place. There is no other place. Up or down. That’s the one thing I know. There’s only this place, where we learn Lesson One."

  “Lesson One? Lesson One? Look, this is some sort of mistake. Please believe me, there is no reason to do this to me! I’ve done nothing wrong!”

  Alberto eyes flashed slightly, as if he had mentally clapped his hands, thinking, “Now we’re getting somewhere.” But all he said was, “Haven’t you now? Well, we’ll see. Strange as it seems, it will make sense, Fred. Just takes a while. We haven’t gotten to anything you remember.”

  “Anything I remember? Please, please, I don’t understa—”

  The shadow thing came.

  It came again and again. Each death was altogether unique. The horror and pain were fresh and worst-imaginable every single time. Only the smell of the crushing thing changed — rubber, leather, plastic, and once, oddly, like a smelly foot.

  After each death, Alberto always seemed to be sitting behind him when he “returned.” Time and again he scrambled to Alberto’s rock and pleaded and cursed and cried and screamed and begged. Time and again, Alberto said only more inane things like, “Well, this bit takes a while.” And, “You don’t remember anything yet, but you will.” And, “Believe me, you don’t have it as bad as some.”

  More deaths. There was no end! Fred wanted to die. But he was dead. He wanted to go mad, to be released by mindless, blissful insanity, but he couldn’t do that either. Alberto must be lying. This was Hell. It had to be. Those annoying, forced-smile, starry-eyed, rigid-thinking evangelists had been right! Bastards!

  On his next “return” he flopped before Alberto’s rock, blubbering, “Please! Make it stop! Just tell me what I’m supposed to do! I’ll confess! I’ll pray! I’ll atone! Anything!”

  “Sadly not the point, lad,” said Alberto.

  Fred flew into a rage exceeding anything he’d experienced in life. He was sure this smug, probable demon was lying, and was in fact responsible for what was happening. He snatched up a rock and charged Alberto, fully intending to cave in his double-dealing face.

  Up to that instant, this new world had felt entirely real to Fred — the sea, the sky, the beach, the dunes, the air. But as he launched himself at Alberto, he found his attempted blows and kicks and choke-holds slowed and muted and pathetic, as though he were in fact in a nightmare. Alberto did not seem to notice them.

  Fred recoiled from Alberto’s rock, but he had only an instant to ponder this new experience before Death came again. However, this time (and, given the dire state of things, it seemed something of a miracle) Death was very different.

  First, the sun broke through the clouds. Instead of the dreaded shadow thing, an enormous disk appeared in the sky — vast, yet mysteriously clear, like some science fiction flying saucer made of crystal. It was so large it distorted the sun itself.

  The disk centered itself high above him — and he felt heat. With sudden panic, he realized it was focusing the sun on him.

  The heat quickly grew unbearable. Again he ran, knowing it was useless, yet knowing he had to. Knowing he would try anything, no matter how desperate, to save himself. He had to live! Steam hissed off the beach rocks. He wailed as his hair caught fire, as his clothes erupted in flame and seared deep into his flesh. Super heated air burned his throat and rushed into his heaving lungs. His eyes clouded as they boiled. He was dying! Dying! But as the blackness closed over, he also had a revelation.