Hansen - The New Devil

by Alex Hansen

Cover art by Peter von Harten

2015 Alex Hansen. All rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction. The author wasunable to safely conduct firsthand research concerning theafterlife and was sadly forced to make everything up. People,places and events that have any connection to reality are merelylucky coincidental guesses. Except that the devil's first nameactually is Jason.

I died.

I didnt want to. But I kind of couldntavoid it.

Id love to say that I got hit by a car orfinally succumbed after an inspiring and heroic battle withleukemia or burned to death while saving two children and athree-legged dog from a burning building. But the fact is that Iwas murdered by a bunch of kids from school. Apparently, I was kindof an asshole when I was alive and it pissed some guys off so muchthat they decided to beat me to death with an assortment ofgardening tools.

I can admit to being an assholenow.Its incredible how much death can do to change your perspective onthings. I havent had some dramatic change of heart. Im still thesame guy, pretty much. Im just a little more acutely aware of myshortcomings than I used to be. So I realize how horrible of aperson Id been. I understand how poorly I treated people and howrude I was to a lot of kids that really didnt deserve it.

But noneof that changed the fact that I was dead.

I remembered the beating in great detail. Mikehad the shovel, Quinn had the hoe and Jessie was swinging the rake.There were a lot of unwise, unhelpful words exchanged. There was alot of violence. There was a lot of blood. And then there was a lotof nothing.

But then I was sitting in whatappeared to be some kind of waiting room. It was abnormallylargethere must have been hundreds or maybe thousands of identicalseats arranged against the walls and around the occasional table.Each table was predictably adorned with a dusty assortment ofplastic flowers. The walls were papered with a reddish-beige designthat lent the room an ordinary, clinical atmosphere. There were anumber of other people in the room with me. Most were older andmost looked as confused as I felt. The air was absolutely silentexcept for Elton Johns Your Song playing softly from thespeakers in the ceiling.

Even though I had no idea where I was, it wassuch a vividly familiar setting that I felt compelled to sit andwait. If Id woken up in something more like a jail cell, Iprobably would have freaked out. But Id been in waiting rooms manytimes before, so even if I didnt know where I was or what I wasthere for, I knew what I was supposed to do. So I waited.

There were magazines laid out on a table afew seats over from mine. I scooted down and grabbed the closestone, which was entitled Brimstone Weekly. Featured on thecover was what appeared to be some kind of female demon. She wasnaked and probably quite attractive, but there were lots of hornsand sharp edges and flaming bits and I didnt find the burnt-redskin to be much of a turn-on either.

The caption across her stomach read Kivra:10 Secrets to Torturing Success. I flipped through the magazinebriefly, but almost every page seemed to contain drawings anddiagrams of various methods of mutilating human flesh. I tossed themagazine back on the table and picked up another. It was TheCrochet Hook, February 1973 edition. I immediately grabbed forsomething elseVomiting Journal. I gave up.

Moments later, a door on the far side of theroom opened and a pretty young woman dressed as a nurse appeared.She glanced up from the clipboard she was holding. Giles, Jason?she called out.

That was my name. Mostly out of habitbecausethis is how things work in waiting roomsI stood up, gave a quickwave, and started walking toward her. She flashed me a sweet smileand said, The devil will see you now.

I followed her through the door and into anarrow, dimly lit hallway. Now that I was closer to her, I couldsee that she was dressed as much like a nurse as someone youd seeat a Halloween party. The skirt was short, the blouse was extremelytight, the heels were impractical, andwellshe looked like nursingwas not what she did for a living. I could also see that she wasntexactly a woman, either. There was no hair underneath her nurseshat and I thought I saw a row of small horns peeking out. Her skin,which I originally thought had been colored by a fake tan, seemedupon closer inspection to be an orange tint of brown in its ownright.

The hallway was absurdly long and lined withdoors on both sides with only about five feet between them. Eachone was marked with the words Exam Room and a number.

I was going to see the devil.

I was not prepared for this. I was seventeenyears old. I was now quite aware of the fact that Id been kind ofa dick, but I didnt think that being thrust speedily down to Helland given a personal meeting with the devil was proportionate tothe severity of my crimes. I had been arrogant and mean. I madekids at school who were less wealthy, less intelligent, and lessgood-looking feel like crap. But thats how teenagers are. Highschools a vicious, bloodthirsty place where only the strongsurvive on the social Serengeti. I was stronger than some butweaker than plenty. I didnt think I needed to apologize for tryingto claw my way to the top. And if anything, I owed an explanationto the kids Id clawed, not to the devil.

Maybe I was simply being arrogant again,justifying my own cruelty by claiming it was merely survival. Therewere plenty of kids at my school who didnt really play any ofthose games or acknowledge the so-called high school caste systemin any way, and they survived just fine.

At any rate, even if I had been cruel, mysins were common. Plenty of kids had done what I did and I wasn'teven close to being the worst offender. I tended to keep a lowprofile and only lash out at others when I felt cornered orpressured. There were plenty of guys at school who would go out oftheir way to torture their classmates. It didnt seem like thelevel of depravity Id achieved in life merited an audience withSatan. Maybe thered been some mistake.

Excuse me, I said meekly to the sexy nursewho was currently leading me past Exam Room 114. Are yousure

In response to the question I hadnt yetfinished asking, she swiftly turned and slapped me across themouth. Im sure, she snarled impatiently, pointing her finger atme as some sort of warning. And then she continued walking at thesame brisk pace, apparently assuming I would follow her.

Bitch, I muttered under my breath. But Ifollowed her anyway. If the devil was expecting to meet me, Ididnt think that trying to run away would give him a reason not tothrow me into the fiery pit.

At long last, after we passed Exam Room 486,the narrow hallway took a ninety-degree turn to the left andabruptly ended. I was staring at a door that looked exactly thesame as the last four hundred eighty-six except that the plaque onit said Administrative Office.

The sexy nurse stood off to one side to letme pass. She looked at me expectantly. Heres his office, shesaid. Go in.

Id never met the devil before. Was he astickler for formality? Do I knock first? I asked.

Go in, she repeated, enunciating thewords carefully as though I were some kind of an idiot. I decidedthat, sexy or not, I really didnt like her.

I squeezed past her in the tiny corridor,turned the handle, and pushed the door open. And I found myselfalone in a surprisingly elegant office. As the door closed, I heardthe nurse chuckling to herself.

The room had that rich maroon-brown colorscheme that was reminiscent of New England old money. It was kindof what I imagined the office of Harvards Dean of Students mightlook like. A vivid impressionist painting I didnt recognize hungon the wall to my left. Massive bookshelves stretched along the farwall. The desk in front of me was an enormous mahogany structure.Its surface was organized with stacks of papers, a calendar, adesktop computer and a few picture frames facing away from me.There was a motionless Newtons cradle in one corner. The chairbehind the desk was large, black, and appeared to be extremelycomfortable. In front of the desk was one smaller wooden chair thatappeared to be extremely uncomfortable. I was pretty sure I was inHell, but none of this looked like what Id have guessed Hell wouldcontain.