Hard on Missy’s heels, I assumed more than an hour had past when I encountered the first thing in the afterlife that truly frightened me. It was desperation.
"Wait! Please stop! I beg you to stop!"
Glancing right, I noticed a lanky man stagger drunkenly toward me, arms trailing as if they could not keep up with his torso. Feeling the loss of Missy's grip, I smirked over this person's moustache, too big for his face. Dressed in a craggy tuxedo with flapping tails, his bushy brows hid the eyes underneath. Seeing no harm in the vagabond, in fact, relieved to find another sharing my limbo, I gestured him closer. Upon reaching me, the man threw his hands around my neck.
"Help me!" he cried. "Oh, please help me!"
Drool dripped from his salivating lips; he was hollow-cheeked and wore scratches down each of them. I took an immediate step back, but he followed, snaring me in his hold.
"Are you God?" he begged. "Are you God? Answer me! Answer!"
I called for my life support, searching to my left and right. A cold trickle then ran down my spine; Missy was gone, and I was alone with a lunatic.
"You are God!" he announced, showing all his teeth. "You must be! Oh, almighty…What have I done?! I have suffered long over my actions! Why have you forsaken me?! I was due a place on that raft! I was bloody entitled! Why am I here? Explain yourself!" He throttled me, insanity pumping adrenaline through his muscles. "Why do you keep me waiting?!" he panted. "Lord have mercy! Lord hear my prayer!"
I cried out as his unkempt fingernails sank into my throat, and feeling the blood trickle down my chest, I pressed my hand to his face and gouged at the holes there.
"You think I can’t kill a God?" he grimaced back. "Do you think I won't murder a God?!"
"I am not…! Get your damn hands off!"
His blunt teeth tore at my palm, then fought as he inched his face closer to mine. His breath stank of scotch, and cigars stained every fibre of his clothing.
"No!" I scowled. "Get…away!"
The eyes seemed to glaze over as he resorted to snapping at me with random bites here and there. He barked an inch from my cheek, and then took a snap off my eyebrow and a pinch from my chin.
"I will become one with you!” he seethed. “Take this body and eat from it! Take this cup and drink from it! Oh, Lord God!"
"Leave him be!" a brilliant voice commanded, and with that, a sudden punch of air violently parted us.
Dazed and on my back, the hungry man was over ten feet away. His face was in awe as he gawked past me to a lavishly dressed man dangling a black, three quarter hat in his hand. Advanced in years, this new arrival had a soft face with few lines, kind lips, and a mop of white hair falling in curls to the collar. He wore a linen shirt with fancy cuffs, and a tightly fitting black waistcoat matching his breeches. His ridiculous scarlet stockings caught the eye, wrapping down the shins to a pair of gleaming shoes with golden buckles. He was a walking museum piece, a character that did not belong in my time, but seemed perfectly at ease in this one.
Wiping the taste of my blood from his mouth, the slovenly man clasped his hands in prayer and then fell humbly before the elderly gent’s polished shoes. "Why?" he sniveled like a child. "Why do you have me wait still? Have mercy, Lord! Will you end this pitiful injustice? Will you end it today?"
The old man looked over the tramp with contempt, an expression that seemed all the worse on that friendly face. "I am gob-smacked you made it this far, Mr. Ismay," said he, with a refined English accent. "Your tenacity, however, is to be admired."
"Oh, it is to be admired! It is, my Lord!"
"I am not your Lord," he returned, “and your efforts have been in vain. Your scurrilous need to survive is of no virtue here, and Heaven will never have room for the likes of you. Be gone from my sight at once."
The stranger then vanished with a similar punch of air. Where? I could not say. "Magic," I muttered, incredulous.
"Not magic," replied the old man, “simply a potent combination of Faraday and Maxwell. Force and waves, Mr. Fox — science."
The extravagantly dressed figure paused with a hint of regret before settling that cocked hat on top of his white hair. "I can only apologize," he sighed. "What you have just witnessed is an unfortunately frequent occurrence. Those who do not deserve Heaven can still find themselves on its doorstep. Come forward, Mr. Fox. As your life support said, there is nothing to fear."
Despite his assurances and pleasant demeanor, I could not help but be afraid. My arms and legs went to jelly, and as I approached, a familiar face appeared from behind his scrawny legs.
"You wanted me to shut up," said Missy, hurt.
"I didn't say that."
"Not out loud, but you thought it!"
"I’m sorry," I said, stooping down, "but then you already know it. I called for your help back there. Thought you were supposed to be my guardian, protector, thingamajig?"
"Life support," she said, gliding upward, "and you weren't in any danger!"
Missy changed her mind after inspecting the various teeth marks impressing my body. I accepted her apology repeatedly before she calmed down. Then, no matter how inappropriate, I felt it only good manners to offer this man my handshake. "Won't you call me Danny?"
His eyes were warm as he took hold, and after a vigorous shake, he reached into his waistcoat to remove a silver flask.
“Drink," he said, passing it to me. Holding no more than two swallows, Missy persuaded me to down the contents. The liquid had no scent, and was thick and flavorless over my tongue.
"What is it?" I asked, experiencing a tickle come over my skin, followed by the weaving of new flesh over my wounds.
"A strict compound of chemicals," said the man, enjoying my wonder. "And better for you than all the vegetables in the world."
"Who are you?" I hissed, dropping the flask and recoiling. There were no bite marks left on my hands or face, and no scars either.
"He is Sir Isaac Newton," said Missy, pushing me back to him. "This is the honor of my life, sir!"
"And what an honor it is to meet you!" he replied. “The both of you!”
My life support hid her blushing behind my leg, and although I appreciated this man's fine appearance and help, my still-scattered brain did not yet recognize the name.
"Daniel this man is a genius!" proclaimed Missy. "He forged the laws of gravity in his lifetime, and today continues to push the boundaries of physics. Sir Isaac, tell Daniel what happened before the big bang!”
“I don’t think he’s interested, Missy.”
I wasn’t. The only thing that interested me was what this apparently prestigious scientist wanted with me. Moreover, what did I do to deserve his notice?
The Englishman bent forward to search into my head, as if looking directly at a small piece of personal information. He frowned at his findings. "I am sorry you had to suffer so much. Your passing was unpleasant."
"Didn't feel a thing," I lied, the mere mention making me uncomfortable.
Sir Isaac Newton could not have failed to notice my distress, but thankfully, he never drew attention to it.
"That feeling won’t ever leave you," Missy added, squeezing my fingers a little bit firmer. "You will never forget. It is the way…of things."
"It’s okay." I said. "I think…it can be controlled. Maybe"
Getting a grip of my emotions, I gazed back at the elderly scientist. "Missy tells me you've been reading my ledger of life? Is that true?"
"Correct. I assigned myself to read your ledger, and it makes for interesting reading. Yes," he considered, rubbing his chin, "yours is a tale of two lives, Danny. One good and decent and promising — very promising — everything one would want in a friend, husband, or father."
"And the other?" I asked, wary.
"A mixed bag, I’m afraid. A very mixed bag indeed, and you will be judged by all of it."
Missy was fidgety at my knee, keen to interrupt on my behalf.
"Under normal circumstances,” Newton added, “there would be only one course of action for such an uneven life, such a disproportional path."
I broadened out my shoulders and felt brave for a nanosecond. "So…What are you waiting for? Get it over with."
Missy swallowed so hard that I could hear her gulp. Scared for me, she still trusted that Newton had read my ledger and knew of all my qualities, the ones I couldn't remember.
"Danny," he started slowly, as if mine was his most important appointment; "things are never as simple as up or down, black and white. There are grey areas in all walks of life. Here too."
Missy raised an eager hand. "I filled him in there, sir! My Daniel is well informed on our judicial system."
"I’m not entirely convinced," he replied, amused.
"She has told me a little," I said. "To be honest, it came at me pretty fast."
"Then let me fully explain. Pray, get off your feet."
He guided my eye toward two large blocks of marble that appeared out of nothing and nowhere.
"Are you going to fly around me like a bumblebee, too?" I asked, taking his seat.
"No wings," he snickered. "They give me allergies anyhow, puffy eyes, runny nose, the lot. Besides, I prefer using my legs. Walking is the very best way to clear the mind, and mine has a lot of clutter these days."
He shuffled toward the marble and sat. "My that's better! Pray, give me a nudge if I prattle on or nod off. Colleagues often point out this habit I have of dozing through lectures, meetings, and so on, but I argue I'd hardly be asleep if they were of any great consequence, or any colleagues worth impressing."
"And am I…an important meeting?" I asked. "Worth impressing?"
"I don’t waste my time on just anyone, Danny. Take a breath!" he added, taking his own. "It may appear so at first, but this afterlife is not a complicated place. Daunting certainly, but not complicated. The Waiting Plain around you is the first stop on a continuing journey, an epic course of evolution, as Darwin would say. That sweet soul,” he smiled, “never have I met a man so precious about his pigeons, or so obsessed with backgammon! He once challenged me to a race of birds, you know…"
"Sir Isaac?" said Missy, beckoning him to stay on subject. "If you please?"
"Right," he agreed, with a dithering nod. "Good souls, Daniel, like your child Kathy, progress directly to the realm above us. Some call it Heaven, Elysium, Valhalla, or Olympus; I call it home. Others meanwhile, more questionable others, go below to the Distinct Earth, whilst the wicked rest are dragged…deeper still."
"The distinct what?"
"It is the grey," he answered me, wearing a pitiful expression. "Once a realm of freedom and choice, but no longer, for evil has taken what liberty they had away."
"Evil?" I pried, creeping closer.
“For another time,” said a hesitant scientist. "Right now, I want to talk about the Distinct Earth itself, a diverse dominion full of human and alien kind. You have just come from the natural world, Danny. The Distinct Earth is an unnatural one."
"A sort of purgatory," Missy remarked. "For souls to see out their times. It can be as good or as bad as you make it."
"And is that where I’m going? To this Distinct Earth?"
Blank faced, Sir Isaac Newton nodded. "You will see the Distinct Earth. That I am certain of."
"What?!” gasped Missy, in utter disbelief. “Didn't you read his ledger? Didn't you see his noble heart?"
"I read it," he returned, "and I saw a noble heart gone astray! Your opinion Missy, although important, is a biased one, having no bearing on this judgment, so pray, let me finish it. Daniel will see the Distinct Earth, but he will not be sentenced there."
Missy jerked back as if electrocuted. “If not Heaven,” she said, trembling. "If not the Distinct Earth…You can't mean?"
"Not me," he returned, gesticulating for calm, “but our Lord. That will, for all its profound mystery, has something special to ask of your Daniel, a task. I am here because I've an invested interest in that task’s success."
Missy’s fear disturbed me. Shouldn't my custodian, my life support, know everything?
"Go on," I urged. "What sort of task? Tell me, please?"
Missy clutched my arm, hanging most of her weight on the elbow while Sir Isaac Newton's weary voice took on a sharper, keener edge. "There is one soul," he husked, "a soul trapped and tortured and lost to us. God requests that you liberate it. You, Danny." He then left a final, lingering pause for Missy and me to register his crazy information.
"Liberate?" I asked. "How? Where on Earth?"
"Not Earth," he said, with a creased forehead. "There is one notorious realm under the Distinct Earth, a vast and perilous place."
"Hell," gulped Missy again, looking ill. Newton's subtle blink confirmed it.
"One word for it,” he said. “Hell is not a mythical place simply found in Dante or the Bible; it is very real. Whereas Heaven is a cultural realm of learning, creativity, and forward thinking, Hell is a thoughtless abyss, a twisted, everlasting pit of stagnation. Only the worst go there, and they do so to rot. Your journey will be to its primary prison, the 9th Fortress. There, this individual is held captive, and that deep and savage road you must travel. Recover that soul from the Fortress and return to the Waiting Plain. That is your task…"
Missy quivered beside me, and wings coming to a halt, she touched heavily on the floor.
"The 9th Fortress," she whimpered. "You can’t send him there. Such a thing has never been attempted. Not once! Not ever! It will shatter him! Shatter him to pieces!"
Sir Isaac Newton stood at once from his marble resting place. "Our Lord has asked it of him,” he said, diplomatically. “He has a stain on his soul that cannot be glossed over, Missy. It brands your Daniel, and he will never be embraced past our gates wearing it."
"You never did read his ledger, did you?” she wept. "How could you? I know everything about this man, and I tell you he is righteous, humble, and more than worthy! What did he do that was so awful? So unforgivable?"
"Did he not go there to commit murder?" Newton inquired. "Danny purchased the gun and took his time loading each bullet. To kill was certainly his intention! Do you find such an act so forgivable, angel?"
His argument struck my life support dumb. She could not deny it, and I could not defend it, but right now, I preferred not to think of the stains on my character, but of the only good I ever created, Kathy. With her strength still coursing through me, I leapt from the stone, facing Sir Isaac Newton and covering Missy with my back. "I'll do it. Anything you want!"
The feelings of my life support penetrated me suddenly, and I experienced our special connection for the very first time. Although well over a century old, that little angel girl was as prone to the emotions of love as anyone. Her pain sat heavily in my chest, and I could almost hear her heartbreak at the next thought in my mind, and the question now leaving my lips: "Tell me more about the 9th Fortress?"