The Book of Daniel (21 page)

That was the side of things my better nature wanted to listen to. But my instincts said otherwise, because Abraham seemed to be exactly the kind of person I couldn’t stand: an intolerant zealot, the type of religious idiot whose every word, thought and deed was designed to shore up his own worldview, regardless of the feelings or opinions of others. In short, he reminded me of Geraldine, and therefore symbolised everything I had grown to hate about God and the Church.

Thomas, ever the diplomat, interjected before any of the bile I felt rising could spill out. “I appreciate your concern, Abraham, and I’m sure Dan and Harper do, too. Like you say, it’s never a good idea to incur God’s wrath... but there’ll be plenty of time to discuss the finer points of theology later. For now, I think we can all agree that our very presence here proves that none of us knows the right answers. Maybe we should talk about something else for a while instead, get to know each other a bit better, what do you say?”

Abraham looked suitably mollified, at least for the moment. I decided to try to help out by changing the subject.

“So what’s the story with you two then?” I asked, addressing Thomas and Harper. “I mean, Thomas turns up to the pub dragging me along, and here you are with Abraham in tow. It doesn’t seem like a coincidence. Are you guys on some kind of induction duty?”

“No, not really,” Harper replied. “But after a while, you get fed up with moping about in your own thoughts, and you start needing fresh input. To help you get a perspective on things. And hey, if you can help someone else out in the process, so much the better. Just so long as you don’t get too attached.”

I looked at her quizzically.

“People don’t tend to stick around for long. Most of the ones I’ve ever dealt with either run off and hide somewhere in the city, or die—I mean
properly
die, sent to Hell—or else they transition.”

Abraham chipped in. “What do you mean, ‘transition’?”

“Go to Heaven. Saved by God. Spirited away in a flash of blue light. I’m amazed every time I turn around and find the Riverboat Reverend’s still here, to be honest.” Thomas gave a wan smile. “Apart from that madman Jack, he’s the only person I know who’s been stuck here for any longer than a few days. And when someone does go, it’s not like when they die back on Earth, either. Back there you get a chance to mourn their passing, to get used to the idea that they’re dead. Here, you don’t get that, and what little time you do get to mourn, well, it isn’t the same kind of thing. I don’t know why. It’s hard to explain. Maybe it’s because death isn’t a great mystery anymore, once you know where someone has gone to, whether it’s Heaven or Hell.”

As Harper spoke, the memories of what had happened to Jo just before I died battered their way through my mind. What she had said about mourning was absolutely right, and I realised that this was the first time since my arrival in Purgatory that I had been able to properly stop and reflect on what had happened to Jo. It wasn’t just those last, fatal shots and her final scream that came to mind, but a rush of other memories, large and small, a tsunami of recollections that threatened to smash me to pieces if I didn’t fight to suppress them. Every one of them taunted me with reminders of what a treasure I had lost, that I might never see her again, or hold her again, or tell her that I loved her again. I just wanted her back, that was all. But the feeling was so raw and so sudden that it threatened to tear me apart.

Chapter 13

M
y inner struggle must not have been quite as internal as I thought, because I looked up to find all three of my companions staring at me uncomfortably. Harper was the first to speak.

“I’m sorry, Dan. I know it can be tough adjusting to being here, and from what Thomas said just now, about your wife, I guess you haven’t had a chance yet to come to terms with what happened to her back on Earth. I didn’t mean to bring up any painful memories for you. Or you, Abraham.”

Abraham grunted. “No problem. My family were all fine when I left them. They probably think I’ve gone to a better place. Little do they know!”

Harper continued. “Well, I’m still sorry. I know
I
don’t like being reminded about
my
old life.”

In contrast to Harper’s sensitivity, Abraham was only too eager with questions. “So how exactly did you and your wife die, Dan? Murder? Suicide? A car crash?”

I thought about the horrific sequence of events that had taken place on the evening Jo and I had died. “More like a train wreck, actually.”

“But you both died at the same time? And she’s already gone to Heaven?”

“Pretty much. I’m still trying to get my head around it.”

“Was she a believer?” Abraham asked, his eyes burning with the fervour that thrummed in his voice.

“Yes.”

“And you’re not?”

“No, not exactly.”

“Ah, that explains it.” Abraham seemed to draw strength from Jo’s rapid transition from Purgatory to Heaven and my being stuck here instead. That was more the way things were supposed to work. It wasn’t so much the truth of the matter that made me want to hit him, but the way he almost seemed to be gloating about it. I know that what I said next wasn’t particularly mature, but I couldn’t help it. Being separated from Jo
hurt
.

“Yeah. I guess God’s only interested in welcoming true believers, not bigots or insensitive arseholes. That must be why He sends them here instead.”

My comment hung in the air like a poisonous cloud. I was dimly aware that Thomas and Harper were talking, both of them trying to defuse the situation, but neither Abraham nor I paid them any mind. All that existed was the two of us and his desire to beat the heresy from my lips, and I was sure that the only thing that held him in his seat was his fear of what a fistfight might do to his chances of going up to Heaven. Perhaps he remembered the name of the pub.

I don’t know how long we sat there like that, Abraham and I; probably only seconds, although it felt much longer. Either way, the moment was brought to an abrupt, terrifying end, as with no warning, a deep, resonant note suddenly sounded from somewhere outside the pub, filling the air and sending our glasses dancing around the table. There was no mistaking the source of the noise: the angels’ trumpets were sounding once again. I looked at Thomas and Harper in alarm, but they seemed unperturbed. Abraham had gone back to looking as small and scared as when I had first met him, our bickering instantly forgotten in the face of the common anxiety we shared at this new, unexpected twist.

Slowly, the sound receded. As it withdrew, a few people around the pub started to get to their feet.

“What the hell was that?” Abraham spoke to no-one in particular.

Thomas finished his drink and stood up in a single motion, tapping me on the shoulder to indicate that I should do likewise. Across the table, Abraham sat petrified. Petrified apart from his eyes, that is, which rolled around wildly, looking for somebody who would answer his question. He tried again.

“I said, what the hell was that?”

“That,” said Harper, looking distinctly weary, “was the factory whistle. It’s time to go to work.”

For a moment, it looked like Abraham was going to burst into tears, and then, numbly, he reached out and took hold of Harper’s outstretched hand. She hoisted him effortlessly to his feet. “Cheer up, Abe, the angels hardly ever let anyone die on their first foray out of the city. I’m sure you’ll be fine. Just try to think of it as a rite of passage. Like getting baptised.”

“Or losing your virginity in the prison showers,” I muttered under my breath.

On the surface, I tried to present the attitude of cool indifference that had served me so well in similar circumstances in my army days, but on the inside I felt as terrified as Abraham looked. The familiar rush of pre-combat adrenaline began to flow through my veins, or at least those of the strange new body I had been given. I only hoped that in the imminent ordeal, this body wouldn’t let me down as badly as the last one had when I was most depending on it. I had already lost Jo once, and next time I died, there would be no more second chances.

We joined the small trickle of people leaving the pub. Most of the other patrons remained seated, unable to hear the summoning sound of the trumpets over the din of their own inner wailing. It was a relief to leave. The moment we stepped out through the door, the atmosphere back inside the pub already seemed unreal and dreamlike, as uncomfortable as a New Year’s party in a cancer ward. Outside, at least you could remember where you were and what that meant. In there, it was all too easy to forget, to turn your back on the strange reality of Purgatory, to hope that what was out here was the dream instead.

We merged in with the rest of the crowd and made our way towards the city gates that towered placidly in the distance. I wondered at their strength, and how they could so unassumingly keep the hordes of Hell at bay; the hordes that very soon I would be facing. That
we
would be facing. I looked around at my fellow Purgatorians; not just Thomas, Harper and Abraham, but the others who marched around us, too. The general mood was similar to that amongst those walking into a funeral service—which I supposed for some of us was exactly what it was going to be.

Thomas fell into stride next to me. “How’re you doing, Dan? Ready for action?”

“Something like that. I could probably have done with a bit more time to get used to the idea of being here, though. Curfew didn’t last for long, did it?”

“No, it doesn’t sometimes. But then, we’re not put here to rest. As our friend Abraham will no doubt tell you, we’re here to earn our salvation, although probably not in the way he thinks.”

“Don’t people get exhausted, though? I mean, I know Saint Peter said we don’t need sleep anymore, but surely people still get tired?”

“No, they don’t. If you think about it, what use is sleep anyway, especially here? You can’t think while you’re asleep, you can’t do anything productive, and you certainly can’t fight, so from the viewpoint of being confined to Purgatory, it’s a complete waste of time.” Thomas let out a heartfelt sigh. “If only our earthly bodies hadn’t needed it either. Think of all the things you could do with an extra eight hours every day! Still, the Lord works…”

“…in mysterious ways,” I joined in with the end of his sentence, feeling suddenly weary in spite of Thomas’s claims about the resilience of our new bodies. “So you keep saying.”

My exasperation wasn’t lost on Thomas. “Don’t worry, Dan. I know how confusing it all is, but stick with it. The Lord’s ways will become less mysterious over time. You’ll start seeing glimpses of God’s purpose behind things, more and more, and then one day, the final piece of the puzzle will suddenly fall into place, everything will make sense, and then
whoosh
, off you go.”

“I’ll take your word for it, mate. Right now I’m more concerned with what’s on the other side of those gates than with trying to unravel the mysteries of the universe.”

“The two aren’t as separate as you think, Dan,” said Thomas, tipping me a wink. “Look, just stick close to Harper and me, we’ll keep an eye on you. That goes for you, too, Abraham, if you’d like us to help you.”

Abraham grunted noncommittally, but I could see the gratitude in his eyes that his mouth refused to concede.

“Let’s not forget my other guardian angel, either,” I said.

“Who’s that?” asked Harper, raising a quizzical eyebrow.

“I think you mentioned him earlier. Some lunatic called Jack. Big fella, likes to scratch his own cheeks to shreds. Good with kids, no doubt.”

The other eyebrow joined its counterpart as inquisitiveness turned to disbelief. “You think Crazy Jack is going to help you out there?”

“That’s what he said, although I have to admit I
am
a little sceptical of his offer. We didn’t exactly hit it off, and from what I’ve heard so far, he’s not exactly the most reliable of people.”

“Sound advice. Let me give you some more, in a similar vein: don’t get too close to him out there. He’s just as liable to lop
your
head off as a demon’s, and that kind of help you can well do without.”

“Thanks, Harper, you’re a real comfort. What were you in your old life, a counsellor or something?”

Her look blackened, and her voice lowered to a mutter. “A veterinary surgeon, actually. And a murderer. Look, no offence, Dan, but I’m not exactly fond of the subject, so just drop it, okay?”

I held up my hands placatingly. “Sure. I’m not looking for any trouble. I’ve got more than enough of that as it is.”

“You say that now,” Thomas interjected, “but just wait ’til those gates open.”

I couldn’t quite tell whether the grin on his face as he said this was mischievous or nauseated, but I hoped it was the former. “Geez, you too? You and Harper make a great team. With the two of you reassuring me, what could I possibly have to worry about?”

Abraham stared directly ahead, eyes fixed on the gates as if they were the headlights of an approaching truck. If it weren’t for the fresh tear that rolled down his cheek, you might almost have assumed he hadn’t been listening to our banter. I threw him a lifeline. “Looks like it’s going to be up to you and me to keep a little optimism going out there then, Abe. Show those demon bastards that we aren’t scared of them. What do you say?”

Poor Abraham. He looked as small as a child that was wearing his father’s clothes. “I’m not supposed to be here. Why won’t someone just come and take me away from all this?”

“Look, I know we had our misunderstandings back there in the… pub.” I stopped myself from saying the pub’s name just in time. I somehow didn’t think that it would cheer him up. “But listen. I think we’re in the same boat, you and me. Like everyone else with two brain cells to rub together, we both want to get out of here as soon as possible, sure, but I’m talking more about the fact that we’ve both been let down by God somehow. And if God doesn’t make mistakes, well, then we’ve got to try to figure out why He’s done what He has. I haven’t had a lot of time to think about it so far, but let me tell you two things I
am
sure about.