“Okay, okay, but my final wish is just that you hear me out. If He ignores my offer then so be it and I will take what comes to me.”
Michael begun laughing and Harry was disturbed by how much like a child it sounded. “Okay, mortal, I will allow you to amuse me. Speak your deal.”
Okay, here goes.
“Send me to the Abyss.” Michael actually seemed to flinch at the suggestion and Harry hoped that it was a good sign. “Don’t send me to whatever Hell I deserve, send me to the Hell that no man deserves. Send me there and leave me there forever.”
Michael seemed to soften, no longer angry. It almost seemed like he was suddenly in awe of Harry. “You speak of things that you could never hope to understand, Harry Jobson. The Abyss is a punishment befitting no man. Why would you ask for such endless suffering?”
“I’ll tell you, but first let me know, can it be done? Can you send me there?”
Michael nodded. “Yes.”
“Then my offer is that you send me to the Abyss in exchange for all of the souls that have been damned to Hell since I murdered Thomas Morris. Save Steph, Jess, Jerry, and all the other people that don’t deserve Hell and instead send me to the Abyss to pay for humanity’s sin. Will my torture there outweigh the debt needed by sparing these people?”
Michael shook his head and began to be sob. The sight of it was almost heart-wrenching – the very act of an Angel crying seemed to be the embodiment of the word ‘tragedy’. “The debt of suffering would be a thousand times more than that which is owed. You cannot imagine the suffering. You should not make such frivolous suggestions without knowing the full consequence of what you suggest. It would be forever and you wish to make that decision on a romantic whim. You are a fool, Harry Jobson.”
Harry stepped forward and was amazed to see Michael wince. Apparently, talk of the Abyss was enough to make the Angel very anxious. Harry knelt down. “Then show me what I seek and then let me decide.”
“So be it,” said Michael, placing both of his hands upon Harry’s head.
What happened next was indescribable. Images and feelings shot through Harry’s very soul, showing him inhuman tortures at the hands of even more inhuman creatures. It was a place of endless and unimaginable pain and suffering. A place where every single second lasted centuries and was enough to break a man’s mind into a million horrified splinters. It was eternal agony in a place where only evil and sadness existed. It was the heart and soul of Hell itself.
Harry shot back from Michael’s grip, falling onto his back and panting. Tears fell from his eyes and already his soul felt damaged just from seeing images of the Abyss.
Can I do this?
Harry dragged himself up off the floor, weak and terrified. He took the steps needed to take him toe to toe with Michael. After what he had just witnessed, Harry found it hard to breath and even harder to talk.
But he had to do this.
“Spare their souls,” he said. “Send me to…the Abyss.”
Michael seemed sad, in fact the Angel’s very being seemed to turn to sadness itself. “So be it, Harry Jobson.”
God’s Angel of Death reached forward to place his hands on Harry’s forehead, but just as he expected to feel the touch of the Angel’s fingers searing his soul from his flesh, something else happened.
Michael took a step backwards and looked up at the sky; so did all of the other Angels, forming a never-ending line of stargazing figures. Harry looked up at the black sky too, but could see nothing but stars and a full moon. Harry wasn’t happy about the delay because it gave him an opportunity to back out of his crazy request for eternal damnation.
No Harry, you decided to do this, and that’s exactly what you’re going to do. Steph and the others don’t deserve to go to Hell because of my crimes.
Michael was smiling and a feeling of joy seemed to cascade from the archangel in bright, colourful waves. He looked at Harry and nodded, as if he knew something that he did not. “Goodbye, Harry Jobson,” said Michael as he placed his hands on Harry’s skull.
The pain of Harry’s soul being ripped from his body was exquisite. Like having a thousand fish hooks dragged through the insides of his body. The pain’s already starting, Harry feared as his soulless husk of a body fell to the floor.
Epilogue
A news reporter came onscreen. She was enveloped by an over-sized pink ski-jacket. “Good evening, I’m Jane Hamilton, reporting for Midland-UK News. Fortunately, after nearly 19-inches of snow, the weather finally seems to be improving. Temperatures have already begun to rise and the snow is predicted to end soon. Roads will soon be in the process of being reopened while rail links are expected to be resumed within the next few d-”
Harry found himself at the bar of The Trumpet. It didn’t happen instantly and it felt as though he had flowed back into his body like gravy through a sieve. At first he remembered nothing…
Until the person next to him spoke.
“How you feeling there, Harry Boy?”
Harry almost choked at the sight of the Irishman – The Devil – and started to panic as it all came rushing back. Please, not again. Is this hell? Is this the abyss?
“Calm there, fella. You made it. All is well for another millennium or so. The big guy gave you all another chance.”
Harry was stunned. “He…he did?”
Lucas laughed and sipped a pint in front of him. ”Don’t act so feckin surprised. It’s what you planned, isn’t it?”
“Well…yeah, but I didn’t expect to be back at the bar. I thought I really would go to the Abyss, or maybe, best-case-scenario, God would let me into Heaven for my good deed. I didn’t expect…this.”
“Well, as it turns out the man-upstairs loves a little sacrifice, here and there, and yours was a biggy. He decided that your final deed was enough to convince him that maybe humanity still had a fighting chance. Good on you, lad! Though you’re the only one that can remember any of it, so don’t expect a fanfare.”
Harry shook his head, blinking, and feeling like he’d just awoken from a dream. “So why are you here? Here now, I mean?”
“Because I wanted to give my thanks. I like this crazy, fecked-up world as much as anyone, and without it I wouldn’t have a thing to do but sit around in an overcrowded Hell. Truth is I knew there was a chance you might turn things around.”
“That’s why you were here wasn’t it? To help me?”
Lucas hushed him and looked left and right shiftily. “Keep your voice down. If Michael and his choir of gayboys heard that, they’d be after me with their self-righteous wings all in a flap. I didn’t come to help you. I just wanted to make sure you were…properly informed.”
Harry nodded and smiled, looking around the brightly-lit bar and feeling more hope than he had since Toby was born. “Well, Lucas,” he said, “if you didn’t fill me in on what was happening then I wouldn’t have had a clue. I certainly wouldn’t have made the deal I did. If you hadn’t turned up we’d all be in Hell, so…thank you. For a Devil you’re sure not what I expected…Lucas?”
The Prince of Hell had departed, disappearing without Harry or anybody else noticing. Harry hoped Lucas had stayed long enough to hear him say thanks.
At the end of the bar, Harry noticed Old Graham sitting alone, drinking by himself. Harry smiled, finding it ironic that he was so happy to see the old codger. Harry made his way over to Old Graham who looked up as he approached.
“Hey, Harry,” he said.
Harry sat on the stool next to the old man. “Hey, Graham. You’re into History and all that aren’t you? Weren’t you in the army?”
Old Graham beamed proudly. “That I was, ten long years. In the Signals I was. Hit the Falklands a full hour before the SAS did. Yet they get all the glory.”