Limbo 56 - Mike Morris (if you give a mouse a cookie read aloud TXT) 📗

fall straight to Hell.” Undoubtedly, he enjoyed this part of his job. The ragged bunch lined up behind him and a fight broke out, four or five of the larger ones pushing and shoving to grab his shoulder. “You,” he commanded sternly, and lined them up to his satisfaction. Clutching at each other, they started into the mist.

At the last moment, Arthur ran out and latched on to the end of the line. The end man glanced back at him but said nothing, and he followed the narrow shoulders through the white wall, emerging into watery sunlight. Blinking, he saw that they were in the very worst part of Rotten Row. Sodden, sagging houses with smashed windows stared blindly down. Heads protruded from every opening, human sardines, watching the new arrivals. Arthur shook his head but the others gawped at the crumbling landscape as if it were a luxury resort.

The demon strode up to a battered door and pushed it open. “Get in there and stay in,” he ordered, shedding his pleasant persona now that his flock was safely delivered. “You will be contacted soon. Remember, stay indoors.” Arthur, head down, followed the motley crowd into the crumbling building. “Make yourselves comfortable,” the demon said sardonically before vanishing in the fog.

Arthur blinked; eyes accustoming themselves to the gloom, and almost immediately all hell broke loose. Someone tried to grab his scarf and jacket. He lashed out and a long bony nose snapped satisfyingly. A couple of scarecrows tried to trip him up, and someone tried to untie his shoelaces. He beat them off easily and looked around. Most of the new group had lost shoes, and raggedy shirts were either gone or torn. Only he and the narrow-shouldered end man on the line were untouched. The end man was peering from behind Arthur’s protective shoulders. The new group surprisingly unconcerned clutched their rags around them and shuffled down the damp corridor. Arthur supposed that they were used to far worse in Hell.

He turned towards the door and the end man grabbed him. “Hey, where are you going,” the end man said. Arthur shook him off wordlessly, but the man grabbed him again. “I saw you coming out of the trees,” he said, “better talk to me or I might have something to say to the rats.” He nodded towards crowd of shamblers.

“I’m going out,” Arthur told him. “And if you try to stop me I’ll break your neck.”

The man coughed nervously. “But he said to stay inside.” He looked up at Arthur. “I don’t want to be sent back to Hell.”

“You trust the word of a demon?” Arthur asked.

“No, no,” the little man said, “He’s the Receptionist here. Soon as we vote for Jasper we’re going to be shipped,” he glanced furtively at the grimy ceiling “up there.” He smiled desperately at Arthur. “Hell is full. That’s why they’re letting a few of us out.”

“Do you really think that you’ll be admitted to Heaven,” Arthur began.

“Ah, you said it,” the little man cried, “You said the H word, so you must be an Angel,” and he clasped Arthur in a grimy embrace.

“I’m no Angel,” Arthur yelled. “Let go of me.” He pushed the little man away. “I’m from Limbo; I can say Heaven and Hell.”

“Limbo,” the man said. So we’re not going to H…. Up there?”

“Did you really believe,” Arthur said stonily, “that you could become an Angel that easily?”

The little man slumped. “We made ourselves believe,” he muttered. “Of course I knew it wasn’t that easy, not really.” He shuddered, looking at Arthur. “Wait,” he said, straightening up. “What am I complaining about, I’m in Paradise already.” He looked feverishly at the crumbling walls and ragged scarecrows huddled in dark corners. “This is a wonderful place,” he said.

Arthur sighed. “Why should they let you stay, after you’ve voted?” he asked. “And if you do stay, and Jasper takes over, this place will slide right into Hell anyway.”

The little man looked at him sadly. “Why did you go and do that,” he said. “I could have fooled myself right up until we get dumped back down there again.” He kicked the wall and a lump of soggy plaster fell out. “Go on,” he said. “Get out of here. I don’t want you pissing on my miserable little party.”

“Why don’t you come with me?” Arthur asked, surprising himself. “What do you have to lose?”

The little man stared at him. “Nothing,” he said at last.

They stepped over a bunch of rags into the drizzling street. “Where are you going,” the bunch of rags whined.

“We have our orders,” the little man called back confidently. They trudged through the dirty streets with the little man licking appreciatively at the dirty rain as it washed channels of grime from his thin and dirty face. “Beautiful weather,” he babbled. “Is everywhere here as pleasant as this? My name is Charley. What’s yours?”

“Shut up,” Arthur told him. “Arthur.” For some reason he was loath to tell the little man that he was Governor, at least for now, of this wonderful Paradise. “So what was the plan?” he asked.

“Plan? Oh yes, well,” Charley said. “We’re going to be here for about a month. We’re going to get work documents and we’re going to vote for Jasper for Governor.”

“The recruitment office,” Arthur muttered. “How many of you are there?” he asked Charley.

“About four thousand,” Charley said.

Arthur groaned. “I suppose you were all going to be registered as citizens of Limbo,” he said.

“As soon as we’re registered for work,” Charley answered. “Temporary citizens, of course, before we go on up to He… Back to Hell,” he finished sadly. He brightened up as they approached the vast bulk of the foundry. “Wow,” he enthused, “this place is fantastic.” He gazed at the buildings, marginally less decrepit as they approached the end of Rotten Row. “Even the people here seem better,” he said just as an upstairs inhabitant, in final farewell, splashed the cobblestones close to his feet. “The rain will wash it off,” he said with apparently unquenchable good humor.

The little man had blossomed on his journey away from the mist and into Arthur’s territory. He strutted through the streets in his damp and dirty clothes, face washed clean by the rain, looking around brightly like an infant in a toy store. “What, er why did you get sent to Hell,” Arthur asked him.

“What? Oh, murder,” Charley said cheerfully.

“Oh.” Arthur thought for a moment. “Well,” he said, “It was probably provoked, or in self-defense.” Despite himself, he was warming to Charley.

“Some of them were,” Charley said. “Hey, what’s that?”

“My local bar,” Arthur told him.

“A bar,” Charley whooped. “This really is Paradise.”

“It’s a Limbo bar,” Arthur said testily. “The beer tastes like vinegar, and the sandwiches like cardboard.” He began to regret that he had led a serial killer into his relatively comfortable neighborhood. “Come on,” he sighed. “I’ll buy you a glass of vinegar.”

They entered the bar, and Arthur saw to his satisfaction that Jasper held court at the usual dark table. He strode over with Charley trotting behind, and the dim shapes around Jasper faded away. “I’m going to tear your head off, Jasper,” he told the Demon.

Jasper grinned. “Politics,” he said, “is a dirty business. I get to be reinstated and promoted to Demon First Class when I pull this off.”

Arthur blasted him with a string of invective that bounced harmlessly off Jasper’s supreme self-satisfaction. “Sit down,” he said, “Sit down and we’ll discuss this demon to – undead. You and you friend –“ He stopped.

Arthur turned around. Charley was backing away slowly, his figure haloed in an uncomfortable orange glow. “You tricked me,” he screamed at Arthur, and turned to run. He stopped, twisted and unmoving.

“I’ll tie you in a knot,” Jasper said in a voice that Arthur had not heard before. Charley began to bend, and Arthur reached over and grabbed the demon.

“Let him go, now.” He told Jasper, who looked genuinely shocked. “I’m still Governor,” Arthur said, shaking him. “He’s with me and you don’t touch him.” The thin man watched as Jasper’s emotions played from fury to amazement to a sort of surprised amusement.

“Of course,” Jasper said in his former voice. “We’re all friends here.” Charley dropped like a bundle of rags and staggered to his feet looking curiously at Arthur.

“You’re the Governor?” he asked. “You’re the one we’re going to vote out of office and drag down into the Pit.”

“That’s me,” Arthur said sharply. “Now come and sit down with us.” He had no idea why he said this to Charley, except that it might upset Jasper.

Charley looked at Jasper in horror. “I can’t,” he said horrified and Jasper grinned.

“You decided to come with me,” Arthur told him sternly. “Now I want you to sit down with us.”

Charley looked at them both. “You’re right,” he said. “I’m with you now, no matter what.”

Arthur thought that a fleeting look of surprise crossed the demon’s face as they sat down together, but the Demon said smoothly to Arthur, “you have my word that he’s yours until after the election.”

“The word of a demon,” Charley said contemptuously, surprising them all.

Now that Arthur knew the full extent of Jasper’s trickery, the demon did not bother to try to hide his satisfaction. The voting rolls of Arthur’s limbo were massively packed with refugees from hell, all with legal, but non-existent jobs. Arthur started to cast about for loopholes in Jasper’s scheme. “I’ll cancel the election,” he said without much hope, and Jasper shook his head smiling. “I can delay it,” Arthur told him. “I can delay the election indefinitely.”

“You cannot delay or void a properly constituted election, except in case of an emergency situation, nor can you take any action, other than legitimate electioneering, that will affect the course of said election. Your sole duties in this matter are confined to setting up and running the five designated polling areas.” Jasper quoted. “It’s a new piece of Limbo law that I introduced a couple of days ago. Some of the Angels were getting a little concerned that there would be irregularities.”

Arthur let loose a stream of invective that bounced off Jasper’s now distinctly scaly hide. “You signed that law yourself,” Jasper said, “after we had those few drinks at my place.” Arthur groaned.

“What about the oath,” he said suddenly. Jasper seemed taken aback.

“The one that says ‘I Joe Blow, a citizen of Limbo56, have no ties to, affinities for, or allegiance with, the Netherworld, otherwise known as Hell.’ That,” Arthur said triumphantly, “was drawn up some two hundred years ago, when it was thought a similar takeover was imminent.”

“The Angels must have drawn that one up.” Jasper sniggered. , then he turned serious. “And a great piece of legislation it was too.” Arthur looked at him, surprised. “Naturally, all of your supporters will in good conscience take that oath, and a good thing too.”

“And naturally, all of us pathetic lost souls from hell will do the right thing and refuse to swear, even though it means that we return to hell down the next pothole,” Charley said dryly.
Arthur groaned again. “I’m going to tear you apart,” he said to Jasper, but the demon grinned at him. “Sorry, but