Heaven Bent

Chapter 2-3

When the elevator reached the very last stop (there were no numbers inside the car, so I had no way to tell what floor it was), the doors parted. The brightest light yet punched into the compartment, making me more thankful than ever for the sunglasses.

"Well, well," I said as Lillian led me out of the car. "That is one hot metaphor shining up there in the sky."

Lillian didn't answer.

We were outside now, and the blazing sun was unobstructed. The humid heat pressing in from all around was already making me sweat a little.

As the elevator doors closed behind us, we walked along a walled-in pathway. It was paved with glittering gems instead of gold cobblestones.

"Now remember." Lillian spoke softly. "Answer their questions truthfully. They'll know if you're lying."

I c****d my head. "'They' who?"

She didn't answer. "And whatever verdict they give you, accept it gracefully. It won't do any good to argue with them."

"Verdict?" I scowled. "What the Hell are you talking about?"

"Also, don't use words like 'Hell.'"

"Hold on now," I said. "What exactly am I in for here?"

"Don't worry." She gave me a small, tight smile with those black-and-white diagonally striped lips. "I'm sure it will all work out fine."

I had more to say, but she wasn't listening. She whipped around a bend in the path, with me a step behind her.

Suddenly, we were face to face with a tall white gate. Lillian stood in front of it with her hands clasped behind her back and waited.

After a moment, the gate swung silently inward.

"Reminds me of my place back home." I looked around, half-expecting a security camera--a metaphorical one, at least. "Not so many dogs though...not yet, anyway."

She turned with a finger raised to her lips, shushing me. Then, she straightened her white blazer and marched through the gate.

For a moment, I looked back, wondering if I ought to get the Hell out of there. I didn't like where this was heading, not a bit. But then I figured, where was I going to hide? This was Heaven, right? I was on God's turf now.

Not too many places I could hide to get away from the Big Kahuna.

So I took a deep breath and followed Lillian.

Inside the gate, I found myself standing at the edge of a rooftop terrace. It looked like something out of Mount Olympus in a Greek gods movie--all marble pillars and statues and divans. Glittering bowls of fruit and decanters of wine occupied marble tables; lutes and flutes and musical instruments leaned against tables and couches. Pools of crystal blue water bubbled and steamed at each of the four corners of the terrace.

In the middle, twelve men and women sat on benches in a circle around a marble pedestal. They all wore flowing white robes trimmed with elegant gold scrollwork.

All twelve of them looked in our direction at once.

"Now I'm not worried," I whispered to Lillian. "This is just like going to a studio boss's mansion. What's next? We haggle over backend points for my next picture?"

She just flashed me a disapproving look. My own kid wasn't buying my material. So who the hell was I performing for, anyway?

"Stag Lincoln!" said one of the women--middle-aged but still in reasonably good shape, with red hair piled on top of her head. "Come before us." Her voice was stern as a schoolmarm on steroids.

Lillian bobbed her head and slid her eyes toward the group. "Go, Dad."

I hesitated. "But what am I supposed to--"

Lillian's eyes flared. "Just go." She grabbed my elbow and pushed me forward. But she also whispered this along the way: "And good luck."

I stumbled forward a step, then caught myself and straightened my sweater. Whatever was in store for me, it was time to reinstitute the Stag Lincoln coolness. I'd dealt with bigwigs before; it was always best to come at them with a kind of aloof self-assuredness. Like "I don't need you, I could care less what you do, but what the Hell, maybe we can still do business if the mood strikes me." Not quite arrogant, not quite asshole, but not even the faintest whiff of neediness or desperation.

And did I mention you have to ladle on the charm?

"Hello there." I donned my smoothest smile as I strolled confidently up to the twelve robed wonders. "Pleased to meet you."

No one seemed particularly charmed, I noticed. Not that I would let that change my approach.

"Ascend." The stern redhead pointed at the pedestal in the middle of the group. "Prepare for judgment."

I stopped just outside the circle and frowned. "Could I just ask what exactly you mean by--"

"Final judgment." This time, one of the men was doing the talking. He was short and round, with a fringe of dark hair from ear to ear around the back of his head. "On your eternal soul, Mr. Lincoln."

"Ahh." I nodded and glanced back at Lillian. So that's what she'd meant when she'd mentioned a 'verdict.' "All right then."

A bitter chill shot through my body (soul? metaphor?). Everything looked so normal, so earthly--but here we were, talking about my soul.

And let me tell you, that was a conversation I wasn't in any hurry to have.

"Is there a chance we could do this later?" I rubbed the back of my neck and winced. "I've got a splitting headache, and..."

"Ascend." The redhead pointed more forcefully at the pedestal.

I sighed and looked around. What were the chances I could just run away?

Not very good, apparently. High white walls blocked the view on all sides, so I couldn't see if a decent escape route existed. Then there was the matter of divine retribution, of course. If this was God's posse, chances were good they could do more to me than talk sternly and point.

So I was stuck--but determined not to show it. Shoulders back, I put on my charming smile and walked through the circle of bigwigs like I was on my way to pick up an Oscar.

"Right here?" I gestured at the octagonal pedestal, which was three feet high. A set of two marble steps on either side provided access. "You want me to--"

"Ascend," snapped the redhead.

I cleared my throat and grinned. "Right. Got it." Then, I walked up one of the sets of steps and stood on the pedestal. "Done and done."

Arms at my sides, I turned a slow circle, looking down at the twelve bigwigs. I'd handled their kind before; maybe I could do it again.

Maybe I'd get through this okay. After all, killing the helicopter pilot had been an accident. And what happened with A.E. was so long ago...

"Final judgment has been rendered, Mr. Lincoln!" This time, a scrawny old guy with wispy white hair spoke up. "And the verdict is..."

"About that," I said. "Don't I get my day in court or some--"

"Guilty!" The old guy leaped from his bench and shook a bony finger at me. "You have been condemned to eternal damnation!"

"Okay now, hold on." I put my hands together in the shape of a "T." "Time out for just a second."

"You are going straight to hell!" shouted the old guy.

"Immediately!" added the redhead.

Suddenly, metal bars shot up from the floor all around me. The pedestal started to turn counterclockwise.

"Please!" I said. "Let me just explain!"

"Burn in the fiery furnace for all eternity!" said the guy with the dark fringe of hair.

"Suffer at the hands of Satan and his wicked minions!" said the redhead.

And then, as my heart raced and I clawed at the bars, the pedestal started to descend.