Naked, on the Edge (25 page)

"Did you ever get it on with something other than your hand, Ryan? Ever get some real juicy pussy? Pussy with a smile? Free, willing pussy? Not one you had to be buyin', Ryan?"

Ryan says nothing.

"You know, you could be a good-looking guy, if you wanted to be. Time to step up and take your golden ticket, boy. Time to claim what you deserve. And I've got it for you."

Ryan looks away, up toward one wire-covered window. "Cover the mirror, Ben."

"No, no, look again, Ryan. See what you are, and let me show you what you can be."

"I don't want to." The voice is very soft now. The one eye appears sad. Ben's spiel is working.

"Seriously, look again." Ben pats the mirror. "Do you see yourself as you can be? I see it. So can you. Look, right there in the mirror! Tall, straight, whole man, handsome, confident! This could be you. Women will want you, fucking throw themselves in your direction! You'll be sought after to work for companies who want an enigmatic, entracing front man with just that right look. You'll make money. You'll be rich. You'll be more powerful than you could have ever imagined. You'll never have to live like this again; hell, you'll never have to think about this part of your life again."

Ryan struggles up from the cot and limps toward the mirror. As he gets closer, a wave of heat rockets off the man and catches Ben in the face like a slap. Ben wobbles, feels himself losing his balance even as he is sitting on the floor. What is wrong with Ryab? Why is he so goddamned
hot
?

But Ben keeps talking. He has to. No choice. Get it done.
Get it done!
"Just say the word, Ryan. Just say your soul isn't worth that much to you, anyway. Offer it up. An easy trade. Crappy soul for a perfect, flawless, incredible life."

Ryan is closer now, glancing back and forth between the mirror and Ben. The heat from the man is blistering. The hair on Ben's head crisps. His skin reddens. He scoots away. Sweat pours down his check, neck, arms, and buttocks in slick, salty waves. His heart pounds.

"Just say the words, Ryan!" Ben manages, his tongue baked dry. "Just say, ‘I want to be handsome, I want to be rich, I want to be out of this body. I give my worthless soul for such a treasure!' Say it, Ryan! And I promise you, you'll start living your new life!"

Ryan stops a few feet from the mirror. Then he looks at Ben and smiles for the first time. The smile is unexpected.

Relaxed.

Peaceful.

Ben is pissed and scared. "What are you smiling about? Are you taking the deal or not?" He can barely breathe now; the heat burns his eyes and nose and the hole in his face. "Shit, what is
wrong
with you? Do you know who I am?"

"Who are you, Ben?" asks Ryan. The voice is different now. It isn't tired. It isn't drunk. It's calm, steady. Terrifying. Commanding.

"I'm a representative of the Master! Don't fuck with me!"

"What Master?"

Ben blinks, swallows a gulp of stagnant air. "
The
Master! The Dark One! The Lord of Eternal Torment!"

Ryan chuckles softly. "There is no such thing, Ben."

"Of course there is!" Ben scoots back even farther, slamming up against the cinderblock wall. "Wait! No, no, oh shit, wait! Are you him? Disguising yourself? Are just screwing with me because you can? I was trying to do what you wanted me to do! Don't hurt me anymore! Please!"

"I'm not going to hurt you, Ben."

"You've said that before! You lie! You're the Master of Lies!"

"You're mistaken," says Ryan. "Now I ask you again. Who are you?"

Ben drives the heels of his hands against the floor, as if he could get away by sliding up the wall. The heat continues to stream off Ryan. Ben is certain it will soon melt his skin away.

"Who are you, Ben?" Ryan repeats kindly.

"I'm dead, I'm one of the dead! One of the cursed!"

"Why do you think you're cursed?"

"Fuck you, Ryan!"

"Why, Ben?"

"I killed my daughter, okay? She was twelve. I was drunk, drove my new convertible into a tree. I…I…" Ben closes his eyes. He does not want to think of it, to remember it.

"Tell me, Ben," says Ryan.

"Fine! Fuck, you want to know? She smashed into the windshield. Split her head wide open. And I left her there to die! I blamed everybody but myself! The guy who sold me the car. The man who sold me the goddamned beers. I blamed Julie, for God's sake, for begging me to let her have a ride! Fuck me, right? Three days later I killed myself, still blaming everyone else. So I went to hell. Now I do whatever the Master tells me to do. I'm one of his groveling, obedient minions. He torments us. He torments me! Sometimes I get out to claim a soul, and if I'm successful he gives me a little break. But then he's back to the tortures. But…but…you know all that! You're
him
!"

"I'm not him."

"You are! I can feel it! You're hot like the eternal flames they told us about when we were kids! Hot like the lake of fire!"

"You say you're in hell?"

"Hell yeah, I'm in hell!"

"And you mentioned eternal flames? The lake of fire?"

"Yeah! All that Biblical crap!"

"Then why do you feel so cold all the time?"

"I….what?"

"If hell is fire, why are you cold all the time?"

"Shit, why'd the chicken cross the road? Why'd the angel buy an umbrella? Why'd the devil rob the barbershop? I don't know! Who really knows anything?"

Ryan nodded gently. "Think about this, Ben. When those who are frozen come close to something that is warm, they hurt. They feel the warmth as painful, as if it were fire."

"Shut the fuck up, Ryan! My head aches! I'm burning up! Leave me alone!"

"Look at yourself in the mirror, Ben."

"No!...Why?"

"Just look."

The voice is so certain, so authoritative, Ben finds himself reluctantly dragging his body back across the floor to the mirror.

"What do you see, Ben?"

Ben stares into the reflective glass. He sees himself as he was when he was alive. Ruddy-skinned, healthy, whole. Not handsome but not the worst looking of mankind, either.

"What do you see?"

"Fuck you."

"What do you see?"

"Me. As I was. You know that, though, don't you?"

As Ben stares at his reflection in the glass, something stirs from behind it. It rises deep and dark, a silhouette of ominous shape. No clear features but a perfect and terrifying darkness, stretching out with arms that end in clawed fingers, a head huge with nubs that lengthen upward into pointed horns. Then, punctuating the darkness, two coal-red eyes and white, razor-sharp teeth.

"There!" shrieks Ben. "There! See him? He's there! He's coming for me! I didn't do my job! Can't you just let me have your stupid soul?" He spins about on his ass to face Ryan.

Ryan continues to smile, patiently, kindly.

"He's there!" Ben cries. "In the mirror! Look!"

"You want him to be there, so he is. Just a reflection of what you think should be there."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Who are you, Ben?"

"I already told you!"

"You don't really know. You haven't figured it out."

"Figured out
what
?"

"You are Ben. You are as I have made you. Free to do wrong, free to do right. I have to admit, though, you've tangled yourself up pretty bad. You couldn't wrap yourself around the terrible thing you did, figured you could never be forgiven, so what the hell, you up and put yourself
in
hell. Peopled with all the crap you believed, even hoped, would be there. The Master. The tortures. The demands. The horrors you've faced. The pathetic chores, trying to steal souls. This twisted body you gave yourself for this, your latest, unnecessary venture."

"No! All that was real! It all
is
real!"

"You wanted them to be real. It's been your death-dream. You never stole a soul from anyone."

"I did too!"

"Did not."

"Did too!"

Ryan chuckles. He crosses his arms. His nubbed fingers grip his elbow. "Time to get warm again, Ben. We can take it slow, if you want."

Ben recoils. "Listen to me. Just shut up and hear me out! The Master told me all about you, Ryan. He told me where you preached, and there you were! He told me where you lived, and here you are! It wasn't just lucky guesses!"

"I made those suggestions to you, and you assumed it was your Master talking. You were so into the hell game with all those self-imposed rules and expectations. But you've played at it long enough. It was time you and I had a little talk. Face to face."

"Who are you?" Ryan wails. Then he stops. He shakes his head. He stares.

"Oh, Christ."

Ryan laughs lightly. "Not this time. Just Ryan."

"Impossible."

"Why?"

"Shit…just look at you!"

"I know. A bit dramatic."

"So you really aren't a preacher?"

Ryan just smiles.

"Who are all those others? The Discards?"

"Some are angels in human form, here to help me out. Others, they're truly as they are. As I have made them. Good people. Perfect. Innocent."

"You preached to them as a person, what, for months already? And what about them now? You'll go off and leave them alone?"

"Don't worry. I've got it covered. One of the angels'll take over. And I'll be watching and listening, of course."

Ben's fists, which were clenched, begin to loosen. He licks his lips, runs his tongue along the hole in his cheek. "You put on this whole scenario just for me?"

"Why not?"

"I don't know."

"Don't you think you've put yourself in hell long enough?"

"I…" Ben mind crashes back to the wreck, his drunken stupor, how he'd crawled out of the car and ran away, thinking if he didn't see his daughter dying then she surely couldn't
be
dying. But she was. And she did. Thinking he could not have done what he did. But he had. Julie, the little girl scared of Santa. The older girl who loved every stray dog that ever came along. The almost-a-teen, excited because her father had just bought a brand new yellow convertible. The kid who knew nothing of drunks and idiocy and irresponsibility. Reduced by his pathetic defenses and denials that he took his own life to escape. Ben begins to weep.

"You okay, Ben?"

"I'm….I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry for what I did. I'm so goddamned fucking sorry! What I did was horrible! The worst!"

"It was."

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"

Ryan nods. "I know."

Ben clenches his skeletal fists. "Oh, God, Julie, forgive me! Please forgive me!"

"That's all we wanted to hear. Now come here."

"No! I can't! You're too hot!"

"You're warming up already."

"I can't!"

"Come here. It'll be fine."

Ben wipes tears and snot from his face, and slowly, hesitantly, scoots over to Ryan, his hands palming the uneven flooring, his twisted legs scraping out behind him like thin, fleshy contrails. He feels Ryan's intense heat licking his skin, but as he gets closer and bears into it, it eases. When he reaches Ryan's feet, there is only warmth.

"See?" asks Ryan.

"Yeah. Wow."

"You ready to shed that skin of yours? It's really just an illusion, anyway."

"I guess."

Ben looks down at the floor. He sighs. All this, all he's been through, his imagination. His spirit wrangling itself, punishing itself.

He looks up.

There, hovering over him, standing where Ryan had stood, is the Master. Dark, cold, red-eyed and claw-handed, snarling and stinking of ash and sulfur. Ben shrieks and covers his face and wails.

"Ben, I'm kidding with you!"

Ben looks up again. Ryan is there once more, a sheepish smile on his distorted face. "I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself. Not funny?"

"Damn! No, not funny!"

"Okay, okay. I apologize. But dealing with sin and death and life and eternity, sometimes you can appreciate a sense of humor. You know that. You're pretty funny yourself. You crack me up sometimes. All those jokes."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I like that."

Ben feels the corners of his mouth tug into a small smile.

"Hold still now," said Ryan. He reaches out and touches Ben's forehead, and in that instant Ben finds himself standing straight and steady. His headache is gone. He is warm. And Ryan is no longer in the Ryan body, but is transformed into Light.

"Just don't tease me like that anymore, okay?" Ben asks.

"I won't. I promise," says God. He reaches for Ben's hand. Ben's fears fall away. "I love you. And I never break my promises. Oh, and did you hear the one about the one-legged devil who went into the car wash, looking for a whiskey?"