“What am I supposed to do now?” I ask, still kneeling on the floor. “Just give up and put on the guard’s uniform?”

“No.” Vern helps me to my feet. “There’s no uniform for you, kid. You’re not dead, yet.”

I frown. “Yes I am.”

“No you’re not.”

“Can’t handle the truth, can ya?”

“The truth? For three days you bastards have been telling me I belong in your hell club, and no, I don’t like it. And, I don’t believe it.”

I drop to my knees and smack my hands together in a clap. “God, Jesus, please forgive me.”

Vern grabs his side and roars with laughter, but changes his mood, abruptly, when he sees my pleading set in motion a prayer vigil among the camp members around us. “Stop it,” he says and pulls my hands apart.

I fight him and clap my hands back together. “Our Father, up in Heaven.”

“I said, stop it.” He grabs both my hands this time and tries to pull my limp body to my feet. All around us, the demons move in closer.

“Hallowed eve’s the name.”

Vern drops me to the ground and sneers. “Kid, do you even know what a church looks like, cause ya sure don’t know The Lord’s Prayer?”

“Thy kingdom come and well done.”

“Now you’re just makin’ an ass of yourself.”

The demons back away from us.

Vern adds, “Lucky for you they like that sorta thing down here.”

“What’s the matter? Not your type?” I laugh.

“Vern pushes me away. “You know my type.”

“Yeah, you sick bastard.”

“Shut your trap. I can’t show any emotion down here,” he says, while looking around as if we’re being watched. “And I suggest you tone down the, happy-to-see-you act.”

As we back up from each other, I notice Vern’s Nazi soldier like garb, which is appropriate, considering this place came into existence around World War II. “What’s up with the uniform?”

“I’m a guard.”

“A guard?”

“Yeah, a guard,” he says all annoyed. “It’s what they do with humans who sell their live over to serve the CEO on Earth. I just didn’t figure I’d end up this way.”

“Why not?”

“Sixty years working for Marge, for one thing,” he says while raising his voice. “I helped start that operation. I deserve something better than this. I mean, look at this place.”

A horde of human bodies surrounds us, three feet out from where we’re standing and as far as my eyes can see. They’re not a peaceful or content crowd either. Bodies are punching and kicking at each other like I felt in the darkness, and there’s a constant moan. It’s a little like a rave, where they took the good stuff out of the Ecstasy, and replaced it with misery and despair. “Shit, Vern, this place sucks.”

He glares at me like I’m an idiot. “Tell me about it.”

“So what is it you’re guarding? These people don’t seem to be in any hurry to go anywhere.”

“Us guards are here to make sure they stay scared and violent. Oh, and that they don’t get any silly ideas, like praying. The damn praying is contagious, like the plague. As soon as they start a group prayer, ten or twenty of ‘em’ll take off like fucking rockets to heaven. And when our numbers go down.” Vern turns around and points at a tall demon sticking up above the crowd. “Those things gang up on the closest guards and beat the shit out of us.”

“So all I have to do is start praying and I can leave this place.”

Vern hisses through his teeth. “Not you, kid. You’ve belonged here in Hell since the day you were born. Like me.”

“I had a feeling that’s where I landed,” I say. Still blind, I whip my head and arms around and feel for Vern. “Where are you?”

“Open your eyes. I’m right here, next to you.”

“Open my eyes? They are open.”

“If you can’t see me, they’re not open.”

“I swear, Vern, they are open.”

I hear a sigh. “Just listen to me kid and open your eyes.” Then under his breath I hear him say, “Sometimes, I think your momma must have dropped you on your head when you were a baby.”

I strain to open my eyes larger, and the place remains just as black. So I close my eyes, then open them quickly. “I see an outline. Of a crowd.” But my sight is blurred. So I close my eyes and open them again. “It’s getting clearer.”

“Good. Now turn around,” says Vern.

I close my eyes a third time and turn towards his voice. “Vern. It is you.”

“Yeah, she dropped you on your head a few times.”

“Shut up you son of a bitch.” I lean in and hug Vern, but he doesn’t hug back.

Alone again I hear a familiar voice.

“Kid.”

A hand grabs my shoulder and pulls me up.

“Vern?”

What is that noise? Voices? The chatter is buzzing all around my head, getting louder. It’s like flies slamming into my ears in between curse words and calls for help and crying and whimpering. I swat through the air to no avail.

“Hello!”

No answer.

“Hello!”

Again no answers, or they’re all replying in the clamor.

Then a scream beside my head leaves me deaf in one ear, followed by pressure on my back, like I’m being pushed forward in the invisible crowd.

I hear a male voice. “Get off me!” Words are now clear, but some are in French and some are in Spanish. Every language on Earth is around me, trying to say their piece, but it’s obvious no one is listening but me.

“What’s that?”

It’s a female’s voice. I can hear again.

“Where?” asks another voice, also female.

I can’t see them. Is it me they see? I try to call out, on impulse, but fail.

“Floating, over there.”

“Oh that. It’s amazing how some of them try to claw their way out of Hell without going through the proper channels to repent their sins. Most of them end up back on Earth though, as ghosts. This one’s got some spunk. I don’t think I’ve ever seen one get this far.”

The other voice asks, “What do we do with it?”

“Nothing. It’ll get sucked down to Hell with the rest of the trash.”

Trash! No! I’m not trash!

“Would you like to stay and watch? There’s another collection shortly.”

“No. Let’s get back to the others.”

No! Help me!

I see, hear and feel nothingness, just like I remember in the dream. Difference is I’m not waking up, and it seems like I’ve been here forever. This place is like some sort of limbo. Could it be Hell?