Estimated reading time — 43 minutes

Entry one:

Slow day. I love a slow day. Yeah, time can certainly drag when I’m just driving around waiting for something to happen–someone to summon a ride. But I can’t remember the last time I had it so easy.

Sure, I’ve had a few short trips today, each easily traversed through the bridge. Okay, that first client of the day–an especially twitchy and nervous vampire, was a bit of a douche. I get it, though.

It was nearing sunrise by the time we reached his destination. But my cab is outfitted with protections against the sun–we get a fairly steady flow of vampires. And he’s the one who called for the pick up at that time. Not my fault. I made it as quickly as I could…

I am getting pretty bored. Maybe I wouldn’t be against something with a bit of excitement. Perhaps even a hint of risk…

(Cell phone notification rings)

Hmmm…

Holy…shit…

Speaking of risk…

“I would like to request a taxi, at the base of Tartarus.”

Jesus Christ…Tartarus!? No one can even enter that damned place–not unless they are…well…damned…

At the base, though…Sure, that’s as far as any visitor can go…But still…fucking Tartarus!?

“Where are you headed?”

I start to light up my traditional cigarette, certain that such a client will drag this…

(Notification rings again)

“Anywhere but here…”

Yeah…I would feel the same, depending on how long I was stuck in that realm…Honestly, five minutes is too long there.

“I’m so sorry. I need a destination, and we must discuss payment before I can head out that way “

I hate to be so blunt, especially in a case like this. I can only imagine the desperation this wayward soul is feeling right now. But rules are rules. And I am not about to travel there without a full plan.

(Notification rings out once more)

“Can you bring me to the mortal realm?”

I don’t know if I feel comfortable with this, without knowing what I’m bringing here. Yes, I am a neutral party. But, for someone…or some thing to be lost in fucking Tartarus! I cannot imagine it to be anything friendly to mortals.

What the hell is going on with me!? That’s not my business. None of that should be any of my concern!

“I can’t…”

Nope…

“Perhaps, you would…”

Shit!

Okay, screw it…

“Forgive me for asking. But, what are you? I have to know what manner of creature or entity I am transporting to any respective realm. My sincere apologies. But, there are rules.”

Sure, I’m stretching the truth a bit. There are no such rules. Surely my old man would forgive me, this moment of…I don’t know…concern? Curiosity, maybe? Uncertainty?

(Notification rings yet again)

“I…do not know what I am anymore…I have been here for so long…”

Damnit! Okay. I can work with this. I’ll judge payment based on the destination of the nearest waypoint on the earth realm. If I pick them up to see that they are nothing I would wish to invade such a plane, I can modify the course a bit.

“Apologies again. But, what do you have for payment? I’m afraid I cannot make such a ride without sufficient compensation.”

Yeah, in cases like these–an obviously tormented client, desperate to reach sanctuary, I despise having to leap directly to payment. But I am forbidden from performing my duties for free. I learned that lesson the hard way.

And, not to sound too self involved. But, travelling to, and from Tartarus!? Yeah…I’m not about to take that risk for free.

(Once more, the notification rings out)

“I do not have much in the way of currency with me. But I do have some things hidden away. I am confident that I can retrieve something of value before you arrive. Would you be willing to take it on faith that I shall be able to make sufficient payment?”

Shit…This is not how this is supposed to work. Take it on faith!? Just given the nature of the majority of my clients, faith is not something I would even think to offer.

I don’t want to travel to Tartarus! No one wants to go there–not willingly. Not if they have even a fragment of sanity left. As it stands, we can’t even access the heart of the place, only the gates at best. It is the prison of the Gods, after all…

Yeah, I feel for this…whatever it is. Could I be secure in this prospect of sufficient payment, sure. Yeah, I’d take the risk, and make the trip. But, no. They’re not giving me much choice in this.

“I’m so sorry. But, given the circumstan…”

(Notification sounds again)

“Please…help me. I swear, you shall be more than compensated. I am aware of the risk. And, know that I would not ask, were my circumstances any less dire. But, please, Sabastian…please help me escape this realm.”

Sebastian?

Who the hell is Sebastian!?

There’s something about this…entire situation…

“I’ll be there. I cannot guarantee a time frame. But, I will be there as soon as I can.”

I don’t exactly know why I’m doing this. Yes, I don’t know this Sebastian, nor do I have the slightest clue who or what is on the other end of the line. Plus, I am aware that this could all be some sort of trick.

Even with that…I feel like I have to make this journey–that I need to rescue this poor, lost soul. Whoever, or whatever they are.

Maybe I just want to do something right, for once.

This is right, isn’t it?

(Notification sounds, one last time)

“I cannot thank you enough. I shall retrieve your payment, and meet you at the base. I will wait for you now, as I should have long before.”

You will wait? You ‘should have’ waited…before?

This…this is all too familiar.

You will wait!?

No…no-no…

Yes, this is sparking some bizarrely familiar sensation–a feeling that I…

Nope…

I do not need to clutter my thoughts, my emotions, or anything else potentially, I don’t know, clutterable? I’m headed to fucking Tartarus, for God’s sake!

Have I even been there before? I feel like I have, but…I don’t know…Sure, I’ve heard some horror stories from a few of my brothers who have only barely survived the realm of chaos, even being unable to actually enter. But I genuinely cannot recall if I have made that trip.

I clearly and vividly remember every single journey I have taken since my first day on the job, from the unhinged, to the mundane. I would know if I had traveled there! But, yeah…I do know some who have made that trip. I’m going to need advice on this one.

Surely there’s no real danger, right? Not just parking before the gates…

Yeah…I got this…

Now…how the hell do I even get there?

Gotta reach out to someone. No way I’m calling father. Not for something like this. Angus? He’s been there, I think more than once…But he’s a dick. He’ll talk down to me for sure.

Zeke? Hmmm. He had a fare who actually wanted to be dropped off there. Did he take that trip, though? I think he might have bailed on that one, now that I think about it.

Conner…yeah. I know he’s been there–he’s been at this twice as long as I have. Good guy, Conner. That sounds strange, right? Coming off less than familiar with my own brothers.

That’s the thing, though–we’re not actually related. None of us. Just strays our father picked up over the centuries. Scratch and Sons was technically a family business, once upon a time, as father tells it. Only one of his actual kids is still kicking, and he retired a good fifty years back.

The old man had to keep things going, though. And, for good or bad, the realms need us. It’s not easy to traverse the planes without transportation, after all. I can’t honestly say if there’s another service which provides what we do.

Anyway…Conner…

“Hey, Conner. Clarence here…”

Nope. That’s stupid…of course he’s gonna know it’s me when he sees the damn message…

“Sup, Conner…”

Christ…why am I making this so awkward?

Screw it…

“Conner. You busy? I could use some help, if you have the time…”

Good enough.

Might as well indulge in another cigarette. No telling how long it’ll take for him to get back to me.

I was just driving around, aimlessly, when I got the message before. Pulled over when I read it.

Fucking Tartarus! What the hell am I thinking, going through with this?

And who the hell is Sebastian!?

Surely she has me confused with someone else.

Why do I feel the need to…

(Notification rings.)

Conner–”Sup, kiddo? I’m not too busy–just a routine ride. Whatcha got?”

That was fast!

“I have a fare in Tartarus, of all places. How do I even get there?”

It takes a few minutes for the reply to come. Understandable, given what I just dropped on his lap.

(Notification rings again)

“Are you serious?” is all the message reads.

Yeah, I feel you, brother. I’m not thrilled about this either.

“Yup. Should just be a quick in and out. Just at the base, not even to the gates, as they told it. I just need to know the route–well, the safest route…”

(Again, the notification sounds)

“You sure about this one, kid? That ain’t no easy ride, even just to the base.”

Oh, I don’t doubt that.

“Yeah. It’s cool. I’ve been through enough hairy situations to know how to take things safely. No worries. But I have no idea how to get there…”

Having already burned through one cigarette, my pulse still racing from actually speaking…well, messaging about all of this, it seems fitting to light another.

(Notification rings again)

“It’s deep, kid. Deep below everything. You quite literally have to go through Hell to get there. Best to get permission.”

Permission? Is he saying what I think he’s saying!? Sure, I have travelled to Hell a time or two. But, not unlike this current fare, just to the gates. How do I even get permission? Yeah. That seems a fitting question.

“How do I even get permission?”

Nailed it…

This cigarette isn’t calming my nerves for shit. Why the hell…um…why am I doing this? What is it about this fare?

(Notification rings out)

“Look up the listing for ‘The Bar’ in your GPS. It’ll direct you to the nearest one to you. Lucifer is pretty busy of late. But, when someone enters, he can generally make it there within a reasonable timeframe. Tell him what you have, and why you’re going–doesn’t have to be in depth. He deals with us a good deal–mostly with the old man. But he knows us. He will know you too. More than you may be comfortable with. If he grants you permission, you’ll have safe passage. And he’ll show you the way.”

Lucifer!?

Fuck me…

“Thanks, Conner. I appreciate it, brother.”

I snuff out my completely unsatisfying smoke, climb back into my cab, and punch in ‘The Bar’, as indescript as it is.

(One last notification)

“Be safe, Kiddo. And don’t worry about meeting the big guy. He’s alright. Not what you think. But still. Be. Fucking. Safe. Tartarus ain’t no joke. Hell itself will seem like Florida in comparison. Okay, maybe not Florida. That’s bad enough, lol. But you get the idea. Just take care, Clarence. You got this.”

“Thanks, Conner. I got this. No worries.”

Yeah. I got this…right?

Okay, how about that? It seems like ‘The Bar’ is in the next city from here. I’m currently in Pennsylvania–a little town called New Bethlehem, of all things. Ironic, considering where I’m headed. For now, though, it looks like I’m off to Philly.

The nearest big city, sure. But still a good hour away. Is there an entrance to the bridge around here?

Hmmm. Ten miles out. Not so bad. That’ll get me to the outskirts of the city, at least. There won’t be any waypoints within the city itself, of course–probably a good thing, considering the likely bustling traffic.

If all goes smoothly, though, I should get there in about twenty or so. From there, though…if Lucifer (Jesus Christ…nope…not cool…don’t say that, Clarence!) gives me permission, who knows? This fare had better have a hefty paycheck waiting for me.

It doesn’t take long to reach the entry to the bridge–another deserted parking lot, the carcass of a long forgotten shopping mall at its rear. This seems a common camouflage for these access points. I know of at least four or five, almost identical to this.

Sure, I’ve come across a few just out in the middle of nowhere. But it’s always somewhere vacant. Somewhere through which few vehicles may venture. This definitely makes things easier.

As always, I drive far enough back to know that I will reach the desired speed to open the doorway. Wasting no time, I stomp the pedal, gunning it toward the skeletal trees and rotten shrubbery at the end of the road.

With a quick honk of my horn, the transition proceeds as smoothly as ever. And the trip will be short from here. With only forty miles or so to span, I shouldn’t even spend a whole minute beneath the world above.

To my surprise, the violet rune shows that the path above is clear, when I reach the entrance back up top. I barely even need to slow as I pass though, slamming my brakes a bit more enthusiastically when my tires meet the far more winding, back road upon which I merge from below.

That was a close one! I know better than this–to hastily enter the mortal realm, regardless of the runes guarantee that the way is clear. Where the hell (stop that! No more mentioning Hell, goddamnit…ugh!) um…where is my mind today!?

After taking a moment in an attempt to clear my thoughts, I get back to it, easing across the slender, winding road. Minutes later, I meet the intersection to the highway, the sight of the city ahead both settling my pulse, and inspiring it to race all the more.

“I got this,” I mutter to myself as I merge onto the highway, and to the interstate from there, stomping my pedal to match the flow of traffic.

Within five more minutes, give or take, I’m easing up the exit ramp, checking my GPS for the next turn to reach the elusive bar. It’s not far from here. I swear, I can feel my bones trembling beneath the flesh and muscle tissue.

Get it together, kid. This isn’t your first entity.

A few rights, a quick left, another right ahead, and I see the small tavern, just off the side of a downtown street. While vehicles of many shapes and sizes are positively packed together, having claimed every open spot that my eyes can register. There is one, solitary vacant space, right outside the door to the surprisingly pleasant looking pub.

I take a moment, just sitting behind the wheel, even after cutting my engine. I need to compose myself…I need to settle down. Conner assured me that there was nothing to fear. But I am about to meet…Lucifer, for crying out loud!

I’ve shared my taxi with everything from wendigos to wraiths. Demons to vampires. Mimics and shapeshifters. Literal ghosts and goblins. I’m no stranger to the supernatural, nor the creatures who exist only to hunt and to kill.

But the Devil, himself?

I am not prepared for this…

Fuck…

Okay…

I got this…

The door is unlocked. Not surprising, I imagine. It is a streetside tavern, in the middle of the day. Nice place. Small. Just a few tables, in no particular order or configuration. A handful of stools at the bar. I’m the only person here.

Now that’s something you don’t see much anymore–a payphone mounted to the back wall, right next to an exit. I assume it’s an exit. Maybe a storage room?

Why am I so fixated on that? It’s a damn bar! Not unlike thousands of pubs across the country.

Yeah.

Still nervous.

No one here but me. Yet…Damnit. Can’t stop trembling. Feels like…someone is watching me…

‘It always feels like somebody’s watchin’ meee…’

Ugh! Stop the mental karaoke, Clarence! Not helping…

How long should I wait? Is there a bell or something? Surely there’s some way of…

“Alright, mate,” a friendly, lighthearted voice speaks from behind the bar, “and what brings you…oh…Well, hello there, Clarence…is it?”

Heart is racing. Shit! Don’t freeze up now, kid…

“Um…yes…yes, sir…I was told to…”

“Calm down, mate. Nothing to get worked up about.”

Oh. Sure. ‘Nothing to get worked up about.’ It’s not like I’m face to face with the fucking Devil, or anything!

He gestures with a tilt of his head to one of the stools before him. There is…absolutely nothing intimidating about him. Average height, a bit slender, but looks pretty cut.

White shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Gray, pinstriped vest. Black tie. Can’t see the pants behind the bar–they likely match the vest, I would think.

He looks young, early to mid thirties, if I had to guess. Long, blonde hair, tied into a ponytail. Looks braided from what I can see of it. His eyes look…gentle? Kind, even? That light smirk strangely unsettles me.

I could use a cigarette…

“Fancy a smoke?” he asks, taking a seat himself, slipping an ashtray from beneath the counter.

Read my mind, why don’tcha…

“You read my mind,” I speak aloud my inner thoughts.

He just returns a wink with a click of the tongue, lighting up one for himself. He sounds British, of course. The devil always sounds English in the movies. But he’s casual, you know? Like, not all pompous and sophisticated like. He seems alarmingly relaxed.

I ignite the tip of the cigarette, I slip from my pack. That first inhale allows my twitching flesh to settle down a bit. Just a bit, of course. But I follow his prior gesture, taking a seat before him.

“So,” he says, pouring himself a pint, offering me a glass–an offer I must refuse at this point, “you’re off to Tartarus, eh?”

“How?” I begin to ask, before my mind snaps back to the understanding of who I’m speaking with, “Um…I am. But…I’ve never been there…I was told that you…”

“Can help you?” he says, finishing my sentence for me, “I can indeed, mate. But why do you wish to go…there?”

That’s a damn good question. I still haven’t figured out why I didn’t just tell this client that I couldn’t make the trip. No one would argue that I’d be justified in that.

“It’s a fare–a client who reached out to me. They’re at the base, looking to get out. I can’t blame them, of course. I mean, who would want to be stuck there, right? I sure as h…I sure wouldnt…”

Stop rambling, Clarence!

“I just…I mean, I could message them back and tell them that I can’t make it, you know? But…”

“But you won’t do that…will you?”

What is that expression about? Again, it’s like he’s just watching my thoughts floating in front of his face. But I still don’t know why–why I feel so driven to do this. But I do…

“Okay…something about this…I don’t know what they are–my client. Neither do they, as they told it. But I have to make this trip. I have to reach her…um…”

“Her? This client has no knowledge of what they are. But they assured you of their gender?”

“No…I don’t…they didn’t…I don’t know why I said that…”

Yeah, where the hell…(Stop that!) where did that come from? How can I possibly know something like this, if I don’t even know what they are?

He’s gazing deeply into my eyes now. I swear I can feel him digging around in there. There’s that smirk again!

“Very interesting indeed,” he says, his smile widening, “Let’s get you to Tartarus, mate.”

“What? That’s all you…I mean…What!?”

He’s walking around from behind the counter, still wearing that knowing grin. What the fuck do you know!? What did you see in there?

“Why are you helping me without question?”

Well, that just blurted out…

He just continues to look at me, still smiling.

“What…do you know? What do you know about this client? About me?”

“More than a little,” he says, gesturing to the rear door with another tilt of the head, “less than a lot…But your instincts are quite accurate–you do need to make this trip…”

I follow behind until he stops at the payphone, slips the receiver from its perch, and begins to punch in a series of numbers. When he opens the door, I see neither a storage room, nor some dingy back alley. Only a dimly lit cavern.

“But…my taxi,” I say as he casually strolls through the open exit, once more gesturing for me to follow, “I can’t just leave it…Oh…What? How!?”

The sight of my cab parked in the dead center of the wide, torch lit cave inspires me to whip my head back to the front window of the bar. Seeing no trace of my vehicle in the space before the old tavern, I just glance back at the man, now standing beside the car with his hands behind his back, and that same smirk lining his lips.

Again, he gives me a wink with a click of the tongue, inspiring me to just leave it. Yes, I have witnessed a lot of perplexing things over my time on the job. But I suppose I haven’t seen everything. Definitely nothing like this…guy?

“Where are we?” I ask, quickly understanding the nature of the door through which we just crossed, realizing that we are now far away from the city on the other side of the threshold.

“Welcome to Hell,” he says, drifting his eyes across the ominously gargantuan cavern, “well…sort of…”

“Sort of?”

“Think of this place as…beneath Hell…Hmmm…Alongside, maybe. Hell adjacent, perhaps,” he smiles at his own metaphor, or whatever that qualifies as.

“So…this will lead me to Tartarus?”

From what I can tell, before or behind the cab, there appears to be no end in sight. It looks like it goes on forever. Given how vast Hell must be, of course, it very well might, if it is indeed adjacent to the underworld.

“Hell is vast…”

Yep. That’s what I’m saying…

He gives me a lightly annoyed look. Great! Offend the fucking Devil, why don’tcha. Christ…Please get out of my head…

“To reach Tartarus, you must travel through and beyond the heart of Hell–not exactly a casual, scenic route. Especially for those not yet damned…”

‘Not yet.’ That’s unsettling…

“Follow this road. Keep the wheels straight. Do not deviate from the path ahead, no matter what you see. No matter what you hear. Do not slam the brakes. Do. Not. Stop.”

“Don’t brake? Like, at all? How fast do I need to take it? How long do I follow the road? What am I looking for at the…end? Is there an end?”

“The specific speed doesn’t matter. Fast, slow, anywhere between. Ease the brakes if you must. Just don’t stop. Do not allow your wheels to come to a halt, once they begin to roll. As for how long? Well. As long as it takes…”

Riddles? Is he seriously giving me riddles!? Why can’t he just give me a straight answer!?

“So, what? I could be driving for hours? Days!? What does any of this even mean!?”

Shit! Am I really copping an attitude with…him?

“I’m sorry…sincerely, sir. No disrespect intended. But…this doesn’t make any sense…”

He studies me for a moment, that subtle smile not leaving his lips. Maybe it was that kind, peaceful, almost playful expression on his youthful face before. But I suppose I couldn’t see him as…well, Lucifer. But now, the way he seems to be peering through my gaze, even deeper than he did before…

Oh yes. There is something far more ancient behind that friendly limey facade.

“Time…space…distance…those are mortal constructs. Such things do not quite exist…here…Not in a manner with which you can so easily relate. Hell is both infinite, and but a stone’s throw from one end to the other. And here, in this place…we are behind that veil too…”

His tone is calm, soothing even. There is such compassion and understanding in the way he speaks–not like he’s talking to a child, attempting to articulate quantum physics across the pages of a coloring book. But as one with such endless knowledge trying to convey something so complex to one so simple.

He doesn’t condescend in any way. He knows that this is far beyond my ability to truly comprehend–I know it too. I need to overlook my need to understand what is actually going on here, in this place. And just take it on faith that he will not guide me wrong.

Yeah, it’s not easy to take the Devil on faith. But, I can’t deny that what Conner told me seems to be true: he is not what I assumed him to be. Not by a longshot.

“You will know when you reach the end…There is…well…nothing between Hell and Tartarus…”

“Nothing!?”

“Nothing…that your senses can percieve. You won’t exactly careen into an endless abyss, or anything…well…not exactly…Not endless…Don’t believe your eyes, your ears, your senses…They can betray you…here…and there…”

“So, the rules of this road: don’t brake, don’t veer, ignore what I see and hear…the same goes for the ‘road’ between Hell and Tartarus?”

He just stares at me again, his expression still, pensive…

“In essence…yes. A man once described the gates of Hell to be inscribed with the words, ‘Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.’ Yes, there is little hope in Hell. But, out there–out in the space between realities…that is where true hopelessness resides…Do not…let it in…If you lose yourself…you may indeed be lost.”

With the intensity and…is that concern in his eyes too? I know that he speaks the truth. That he is neither attempting to deceive me, nor to plot the course to my own damnation. I have heard the rumors that Lucifer has been on a mission of redemption for some time now, but I don’t think I quite believed them until now.

“I’ll do my best,” I say with a nervous chuckle, pulling open the door to my cab.

“Keep straight…Clarence…Do not stop–not until you see the charred gates of Tartarus on the horizon. The second your tires meet the scorched earth beneath them–when the senses which have attempted to betray you for…miles upon miles know with complete certainty that it is indeed a seared, ruined land upon which you have arrived…only then–immediately then…can you come to a complete halt…”

“How…how will I know? If I can’t trust my senses…how will I know when I can?”

My heart is racing again, my pulse hammering against the flesh of my wrists and neck.

“When illusion gives way to grim reality…you will know. False reality can be quite convincing at first. But when true reality presents itself again…you will know. Trust your instincts. They are so much stronger than you realize…”

As I lower myself into the driver’s seat, my fingers trembling so violently that I can barely clutch the steering wheel, I roll down the window to look back at my guide.

“If I make it there…how do I get back?”

“Don’t worry, mate. The return trip won’t be nearly as hazardous. Time will be more of an ally on your escape. For an innocent–and yes,” he chuckles, “I know you’re not…that…innocent…But your voyage away from Tartarus and to escape Hell will be far less…trying.”

Before cranking the engine, two more thoughts occur to me at once.

The first:

“If I’m innocent…enough to escape Hell…what if my client isn’t?”

He just gives me a smile.

“Don’t worry, mate. She is…”

I just glare back at him, silently begging him to share what he obviously knows–something I know he won’t do.

But, at this moment, my second thought takes precedence over my curiosities about my passenger to be.

“You…know me…don’t you? You’ve looked inside…You’ve seen things that I…can’t remember…”

A subtle nod, that smirk once more present.

“Who…is Sebastian?”

Again, no answer. Just another click of the tongue and a wink.

“Stay straight. Stay consistent. Do not veer from the path. Do. Not. Stop…no matter what you see, hear, nor what you feel…”

With a heavy sigh, I only return a nod. I begin to roll my window back up, before…

“All will be revealed in due time…Clarence…”

I don’t look back to him, only pausing momentarily before sealing my window shut. I crank the engine, revving the old girl a time or two, just to get my head in the game.

I got this…

Shifting into drive, I resist stomping the pedal, only easing down upon it. I have a feeling that this is going to be a long trip. Even if not. ‘Time and space are relative here’ he said. Yeah. That’s helpful.

With a short giggle, as my old cab picks up speed, I quote aloud the words of a wise man I once heard.

“I am a leaf on the wind…watch how I soar…”

Okay. Yeah. Wise words spoken right before a damn tree trunk burst through his chest…Semantics.

I’m around forty five miles per hour now. I’m tempted to hit the gas a bit, but there’s something intimidating about speeding through a torch lit cavern. Sure, he said it’s a straight shot, and the cave is massive all around. But still claustrophobic.

Yeah, this is a solid speed for now. Even with the distance between the walls, it feels like they could close in on me any second.

Shit!

Why did I have to think that!?

Jesus! They are closing in. Fucking rapidly too!

Stomping my foot down, I hear the tires attempting to skid against the smooth, yet dusty surface. Why did I have to stomp it!

Fuck!

Can’t go sideways…

Keep it straight!

Okay…

Got the wheels under control. Walls are still closing in fast. Gotta outrun it!

Is this even real!?

Where is that laughter coming from?

Jesus! This damn place didn’t waste any time!

Fuck! Both of my side view mirrors just nailed the walls. They’re scraping the doors and fenders! I’m not going to make it out, I can’t…

No…no, this isn’t right. Straight shot, he said. Don’t trust what I hear or feel. This isn’t real…it can’t be.

Yeah, I feel the frame of my old cab buckling and crunching as the walls close around me. I hear the shrieking metal, cracking glass, and wheels desperately attempting to keep spinning against the pressure.

But they are still spinning.

I haven’t lost any speed. If anything, with the tension and fear almost crippling my bones and muscles, I’m only going faster, my foot pressed to the pedal. If I was actually pinned between rapidly closing walls, I would be locked in place, just awaiting the end.

“Trust your instincts, Clarence,” I speak aloud, quoting the words of the one who led me here.

I ease off on the gas a bit, falling back to around forty-five. Exhaling a staggering breath, I can only hope that I’m right–that this seemingly endless road is just messing with me.

If not, of course, I’m screwed either way. Might as well relax a bit.

A satisfied smirk reaches across my lips as the truth steadily reveals itself. While my stiffened muscles and joints loosen, so do the walls on either side. Regulating my breathing as they move further and further away from me, I cut a hesitant eye to my reformed side mirror.

My smile grows wider as I glance to the no longer shattered window to my left. An exhausted sigh escapes my mouth as I feel the wheels no longer shuddering against phantom rock.

Thank God!

Hmmm. Is that taboo to think…here?

The road ahead is clear again, the walls having returned to their original setting. The scenery doesn’t look any different from when I began. But, I suppose, that is the nature of an endless cavern, just below or behind the borders of Hell.

The laughing remains constant, though. Laughing, along with a subtle backdrop of…screams. Maybe that’s just the echoing of the tormented souls, next door. I can’t say that it doesn’t make my stomach churn a bit.

What is..?

Christ!!!

Nope! Can’t turn…

Shit!

Keep…straight…

Fuck, fuck, FUCK!!!

I can’t avoid the shadowed figures emerging from the darkness before me. At first, they look like nothing solid or tangible, just wispy silhouettes of smoke and mist. But as my front bumper collides against the first, its dark crimson fluids splattering my windshield as it bursts apart, I know that is no ghostly illusion.

But it has to be…right?

So…many…voices…

Calling, shouting…screaming!

They’re coming out from everywhere!

Can’t stop…

Can’t slow…

Oh God…

One after another, I plow against and through them. Fluids, gore, viscera, all bursting and spraying against my cab. The windshield wipers only smear it–I can barely see anything!

Keep the wheels straight…

Don’t veer…

Fuck! They just keep coming!

Don’t…stop…

Not real…

Can’t be…

Just the road playing tricks with my mind…

Trust your instincts, kiddo…

I push the pedal down harder. No matter how many of them I crunch beneath my tires, inspiring my cab to bounce and dip, none of it makes my steering wheel jerk to one side.

I’ve had shallow potholes cut my wheels left and right on more than one occasion.

Yeah…

Another illusion…

I hope…

“What the hell are you doing!?” a voice to my right calls out, almost inspiring my racing heart to leap from my throat.

“Lucifer!?” I barely squeak through my labored breathing, when I hesitantly cut my gaze to meet that of my passenger.

“Stop this madness!” he says, his face twisting into something both accusing, and malicious.

“I…can’t!” I reply, returning my burning eyes to the bloody path ahead, the wandering souls still plundering before and around my cab.

“You’re killing them!” he shrieks, gripping a firm hand around my shoulder, “You must stop!”

With those words, I fully understand the truth. Just another trick–everything here is an illusion. Just smoke and mirrors. Nothing more…

“Nice try, bullshit Satan,” I say with a laugh, now ignoring the jeers and threats from my left.

Once more, the path before me steadily clears. The smears of near blackened ooze slowly lifts the veil from my line of sight. And my guts almost burst through my esophagus when my now clear vision reveals what lays ahead.

“Smoke…and mirrors…” I mutter to myself with the sight of the mouth of the cavern ahead, revealing what looks to be a vibrant, orange sky, and the potentially bottomless drop off only feet from the front end of my cab.

As I continue to mumble my self assurance, that what I see is not what is actually there, my thoughts are thrust into a complete frenzy, when I feel the ground disappear from beneath my wheels.

I’m falling…

Tumbling…

Careening…

I feel my taxi battling the rapid winds as it shudders, shakes, and spirals, swiftly descending to a likely brutal demise below.

I’m screaming! I can’t even hope to stop the shrill wail from exploding through my shuddering lips. I feel my body lift from the seat, only barely prevented from meeting the trembling ceiling by my seatbelt, digging into my pelvis.

And yet I keep my stretched out foot pressed to the pedal. I maintain my grip on the steering wheel, desperate not to allow it to turn, even slightly.

Keep straight…

Keep consistent…

Don’t stop…

Yeah…

I’m pretty goddamn sure I’ll have no choice but to stop, when I reach that rapidly approaching, rocky ground I see spinning beyond my windshield. But, with the desperate hope that this is just another illusion, I will not allow my wheels to alter their course, or freeze in their tracks.

“Not real,” I whisper to myself, firmly closing my eyes, “Not…Fucking…Real!”

At first, when I feel my tires make hard contact with solid ground again, I just know that it’s over–that I will be crushed, as my ancient cab compresses from the impact any second. But as the screeching of the rubber attempting to adhere to the uneven, yet somewhat smooth surface inspires my eyes to jar back open, I battle to regulate their attempts to skid again.

The trajectory of my skyrocketing taxi doesn’t even slow as I find myself gunning it down a desolate road, a murky gray, cloudless, and starless sky above barely providing any light to guide my path. But I won’t need light anymore. Not now. Not with how I plan to continue my voyage through this madness.

Once more, I shut my eyes, ignoring the screaming and laughing voices which have now rejoined my empty surroundings. For the briefest moment, before I make this barely conscious decision to simply block out the world around me, I see where I am. Or where this road wishes for me to believe I am.

I see the dark, mirror image of the mortal world above, its distorted reflection having crumbled to time and despair. I see the ghostly, decomposing, and tattered figures, and hear them attempting to breach the doors, and break through the glass.

I see and feel them pounding against the shell surrounding me, both giggling and screaming their hatred. Cursing me for delivering those who would bring slaughter to their front doors. They promise bloody vengeance, and swear that I will feel everything that they felt.

In all honesty, this is a waking nightmare with which I am all too familiar. I cannot even begin to articulate how many times I have dreamt of this very sight and sensation–the well justified vengeance of those I have inadvertently murdered.

Yes, I assure myself that I am not the one to blame, only an innocent bystander. That, if I did not provide transport to these monsters, somebody else would. I do have countless brothers, after all. But that will never be enough of an excuse to allow my guilt and shame to rest.

No matter how much I push it down, it’s as much a part of me as the blood rapidly coursing through my veins. But this!? No…this is simply a manifestation–my own haunted psyche presented in the rotting flesh.

And so I keep my eyes shut. I crank up the playlist on my radio, in an attempt to block out the hopeless, hate fueled wails. I keep my grip firm on my steering wheel, not allowing it to shift, even a little. My foot is pressed to the pedal, allowing my engine to howl from the hastened speed.

I don’t need my other senses to keep the wheels straight, and the engine, gunning it. Not to just maintain a straight path.

Smoke and mirrors.

I don’t need to witness that.

Keep it straight…

Keep consistent…

Don’t…stop…

No more games…

It feels like this carries on for hours, while I wrestle against my senses attempting to falter. The temperature is suffocating, even my cranked up air conditioner can’t battle that away. The blaring music, combined with the tension of my entire body are the only things preventing my firmly shut eyelids from allowing my mind to fall into the sweet embrace of slumber. But it’s working. I know it is.

After an unpredictable measure of miles, an endless chorus of haunting screams, and a pulse which flows so violently, it’s a wonder my arteries don’t just burst open. When the world around me once more falls silent.

The ground levels and becomes smooth, as though I’m gliding across a sheet of ice. Is this the void between planes? Did I make it through? Should…I open my eyes.

The steering wheel is still straight. Haven’t allowed my wheels to even drift to one side or the other. Yes, it’s intimidating, driving blind. But he said straight. He said to be consistent.

Don’t turn…

Don’t brake…

Don’t…

Shit!

The wheels are jarring, bouncing, and dipping across a rocky surface. Got to look–have to see!

Holy hell!

The land is scorched, cinders of trees, like haunting silhouetted statues. The sky is a burnt crimson, cloudless, and still. Charred rocks, scattered sporadically.

This has to be it.

Okay. Easing the brake…

No…

No, this isn’t right.

Burnt land. Scorched, as though a violent, catastrophic solar flare cascaded, like a tidal wave of flame. But…scentless. The air conditioning has been cranked up since I began, barely carving a dent in the suffocating heat.

I haven’t picked up the first odor of…anything. Not since that backdoor at the bar closed shut behind me.

Nothing.

I see the gate ahead–a mammoth, twisted, and blackened behemoth of twisted iron. It looks to be caked in tar, or some slick, darkened ooze. So, yeah. Um. Tar. I guess.

Decisions…

Shit…

Trust your instincts, Clarence…

Burnt ground would smell…well…burnt. This smells like nothing.

I crack the window, just a little, just to be certain. Still nothing. The rushing wind, as I carve through the thick oxygen…it should have a scent…right? Every different plane has its own rules. But some things are constant.

Fuck it…

I know that I haven’t entered the abyss yet. Even when the road felt baby smooth, I still felt it beneath me. If it’s as Lucifer told it…yeah. Nothing. Just…nothingness. A road, even a smooth one is something.

I slam the pedal to the floor. If I’m wrong, at least it’ll be quick. I’ll nail that damn gate at full speed. Or, what my instincts are attempting to tell me are true. One way or another, this is the end of the road.

The bumpy, graveled ground jars my ancient cab, left and right, side to side, up and down. But I won’t let off on the gas. Best case, if I’m wrong, I’ll need to swing by the repair floor back at the Central hub. Yeah, father won’t be too thrilled, but…

Jesus…

I’m right on it–that insanely gargantuan gate, right ahead. I’ve never seen anything like it…

Oh God…

Here goes nothing!

I bite down, practically slamming my eyelids back shut. If this is how I go out, I don’t want to see it happen!

As my tires bounce up the cracked and weathered steps, I fear that my instincts guided me wrong this time. But, as I feel my front end making contact with…something…I’m only aware that my taxi is slowing, ever so little.

It’s like passing through a wall of gelatin, my speed hindered, but not stopped. The wheels don’t struggle, nor do they spin. But as the loose grip of whatever that substance is, releases, I am suddenly, and agonizingly aware of…absolutely nothing…

My eyes hesitantly blink back open, my mind barely able to comprehend what they look upon. Or, in this case, what they do not look upon.

Nothing…shouldn’t exist. To even assign a name to it is making it something tangible. But this–what my mind struggles to wrap around now?

Dear God…

It is wholly impossible to fully articulate the absence of…anything. Everything…But, as my cab lazily spirals and floats through this endless void of…emptiness…I cannot even begin to describe how it feels. How it does not feel…

It’s like being at the center of creation–as though this taxi, and its occupant are the first objects to be birthed into a new universe.

Within seconds, (has it been seconds? Hours? Christ! Days?) I completely lose track of the concept of time. The idea of substance and mass are as perplexing to me as how I am still able to breath in this…absence.

Every sensation–every sense is…muted.

Dull…

Distant…

Detached…

Though I know that I arrived here within my ancient taxi, I’m barely even aware of its existence anymore.

Am I sitting, or standing? Laying, or…soaring?

I see nothing, even after attempting to flip the switch to activate the interior lights. I think my fingers located what they sought. But there was only a muffled clicking sound as my trembling digits made contact with…something.

Is this even real?

Could it be another trick?

Am I…

Am I even real?

Was I ever actually someone, or just a fragment of a dream, as the dreamer begins to reawaken? When their eyes fully adjust, leaving that sleeping flight of fancy behind…will I cease to be? Am I the only remaining remnant of a world soon to be forgotten?

I’m…losing…myself…

My name is…Clarence…Yes! Clarence…um…

What’s my surname?

Do I have one?

I don’t…Maybe I don’t…

Just Clarence…

That sounds right, doesn’t it?

I work for…for…

I drive a taxi. Yes! And the name of the company I work for is…Scrunch? Scraggly? Scrabble?

Definitely a ‘Scr’ word…

Shit…

My name is Clar…Clancy…Candy? Clumsy…Crusty?

Why am I here?

How did I get here?

Where…is this…place?

Drifting…

Spiralling…

Fading…

Is this…Hell?

My own personal Hell…

My name…

My name is…

My name is…Cla…Colony? Colostomy?

No…

My name…

My name is…Seba…

Sebastian?

Yes!

I know that name. It is the only name I know at this moment. That has to mean…

It is coming back!

Not losing myself…

I am Sebastian…

No…

No, that is not quite accurate…

I am Sebastos, son of Nikomedes! And I shall not be defeated by such an inconvenience as a pathetic void between realms.

While the vessel I currently inhabit feels foreign to me–if it indeed feels like anything at all, there is a lingering memory of how to operate it. My foot remains pressed against the pedal beneath it. Yes, there is nothing beneath the spinning wheels upon which to gain traction. Are they actually spinning? But, perhaps…

Yes!

Somehow, though it would appear to defy whatever laws of physics to which such a place must abide…I do feel movement…momentum…progress, at least.

The seemingly endless cascading and spiralling regulates. And, while I cannot be certain what would be considered upright…here, I do appear to have stabilized.

My memories…still vague. My sense of self…detached. Foreign. Uncertain. But I do know this: I must reach whatever lies beyond this abyss–this void of the tangible.

Void, yes. And yet I sense…that I am not alone here.

Faster…

Press the pedal harder…

Cannot force it any lower…

The wheels now faintly echo a hollow scream as they spin against the absence. Yet they still manage to guide me onward.

I hope it is indeed onward, I am facing. Not retreating back…back to whatever led me here. To wherever I was before. If I was actually anywhere prior to this.

Have I…always…been here?

Am I a native of…this?

Absurd!

Of course not!

Hold on to your senses, Sebastos. You do not belong here!

I hear something! It is an unfamiliar…wailing whisper. What exactly does this sound reverberate against? How can anything make any noise in such a place?

I can only barely hear the wheels of this carriage spinning, though perhaps it is no more than a phantom sound of what my fragmented memory recalls. And yet I do feel them. I am aware that I am in fact moving, though perplexed as to the nature of how. But there is no resonance beyond my own thoughts…

Curious…

All I know–a certainty from which I cannot escape…I must outrun whatever it is which draws closer still. Though unaware of how this is possible, that ominous wailing grows nearer with each repetition.

There must be an end to this.

I must reach it…

I see something!

Something…real! Can my mind be playing tricks–creating illusions in lieu of a tangible existence beyond this endless emptiness!?

Whatever it is, I draw nearer by the moment. What was but a pinprick of light, only moments prior, now appears as a steadily largening hole.

Could this be an exit!?

While it is difficult to decipher actual movement, aside from the subtle sensation of drifting, I must be approaching whatever this is. Perhaps I remain still, and this gap in this vast nothingness begins to grow around me.

This does not matter to me, not anymore. Whatever this is, be it sanctuary or peril, it has to be an improvement over…this…I do believe I will abandon any sense of sanity I may still possess, should I linger any longer.

‘Linger any longer’…amusing. silly turn of phrase.

I am laughing. Laughing madly!

Does my sanity abandon me already?

Close…

Close now…

I see the charred, orange and blackened hues of what appears to be a long since scorched landscape. The silhouette of an immense, burnt iron gate…

What is this?

Where am I…

Tartarus!!

Yes!

Fuck yes!

That’s right, Clarence! Oh yeah! Almost there, kid!

What the hell was all that!? For a moment there, I…wasn’t me…wasn’t myself.

Detached. Yeah…It’s coming back now. I just need to make it there–across that…whatever it is that connects this nothingness to that…um…somethingness?

Okay. Words are still a bit tricky.

Christ! How long have I been…

Shit!

Something hit my cab–ceased my movement in an instant. Good thing I still have my seatbelt on. I would’ve nailed the windshield for sure, with the jarring halt. Sure, it barely felt like I was moving, but I must’ve been actually gunning it.

Goddamnit!

I feel my taxi buckling. Warping. Compressing!

It’s like…like something is wrapping around the frame, steadily squeezing harder…

How do I get out of this!? The exit is so close now!

Okay, cool it, Clarence…

Breathe…

Think it through…

You just need to remember–remember how everything works…

My cab is outfitted with plenty of defensive and offensive nicknacks. Is there anything that can repel something like this!?

Wait…there’s something new–something I had installed recently…

Think, goddamnit!!

Time is running out. If whatever this is keeps crushing this old bucket of bolts, I’ll either be dead, or trapped in this damned void!

It was something I had installed after…after…

What the fuck was it after!?

I was driving across a road…cobblestones…dusty and worn…There was something trying to take hold of my cab back then too…

No! Not something…

Some things! A metric shit ton of them!

That’s right!

The Netherroad. I was almost lost there too, thanks to that fucktard wraith! They were all over the damn taxi, making it impossible to move. When I finally made it back to the depot, that’s when I asked them to install…

Yes!!

The second my fingers locate the button to trigger the device which instantly electrifies the exterior of my taxi, a howling screech echoes from what could be all around me.

The pressure releases. The still spinning wheels grasp back hold of…whatever the hell allows them to move through this damned abyss.

Hell yes, boys and girls! We’re back in business, baby!

My spine stiffens as that agonized wail transforms to one of sheer maddening rage. But, with how quickly I now approach that ever growing opening, there’s no catching me now.

I fucking hope so, anyway.

Not unlike my transition into that emptiness, for a moment, I feel my speed decrease. But more significantly than last time. I’m momentarily afraid that this might allow whatever that was back there to catch up with me. But, even slowed, I still force through what I feel inclined to describe as some sort of membrane.

As I burst through, my tires spinning and skidding against the charred, rocky ground beneath them, I slam my brake pedal to the floor, just as the king of Hell suggested.

I lose control of my ancient cab for a moment, my tires battling to hold traction. But after sending a cloud of dust, spiralling like a small tornado around me, the old girl finally comes to a halt.

I’m gasping for breath, my mind still attempting to clear the brain fog to which I almost abandoned my sanity.

Breathe, kid. Just breathe…

Yeah. I smell it…the burnt ground. The cinders…The smoke.

This is real…

It has to be.

You’re safe now, Clarence.

Yeah. Safe…at the gates of fucking Tartarus…

Jesus Christ…

Okay. This isn’t so bad. Ominously quiet. All I hear is a subtle wind. No screams. No wails of anguish. Just the breeze.

And where the hell is my client?

Breathing easier now. Strange, considering that I’m not sure if this is actual oxygen I’m breathing. I feel like that’s something that should come up more often, especially with all the realms I’ve visited. How does that work?

Why am I focusing on this? Sure, I’m just casually parked before the gates of Tartarus, for Christ’s sake…but it’s not as though…

I should message her…um…who, or whatever my fare is.

“I have arrived. I’m parked directly across from the gates. Apologies for the delay. The journey was quite unpredictable.”

Hmmm.

She’d better show…

If I’ve come all the way here for nothing, I swear…

I hear something…

Footsteps? Rushing footsteps. Can’t tell what direction they’re coming from.

Screams…shit!

I see her…is that her? Tattered, dusty brown robe, almost as if it’s composed of many strips of frayed fabric, rather than a typical robe. The hood is pulled up–can’t see her face.

What is she doing? Sure, she’s running, but what is she fidgeting with? It looks like…

(Notification rings)

Oh.

“It is me. Not alone. So sorry. Must make haste. Please be ready to depart immediately!”

Screw it, I’m riding closer to her.

The wheels feel dodgy. No idea how much damage…should’ve checked. Christ I hope we can make it back.

Oh no…

In the rearview…no sign of the entrance to the void…

How do we get back!?

Jesus…fucking…Christ!

What…the fuck…is…

It’s…huge!

Its body looks like a snake or a dragon. The tail…a scorpion’s tail…Wings…bat wings? Dragon wings? Are dragons real!? Yeah, that face–that ain’t human, or whatever lurks here. It’s like a reptile’s face, but with near human features…Clawed fingers…those look sharp…Oh God…

I skid my cab alongside her, turning to face the direction opposing that charging…creature. Make it fast, lady!

She hastily pulls open the back, passenger side door, the second she reaches it.

“Thank you! Please…go!” she says, slamming the door shut and buckling her seatbelt.

I still can’t see her face. Her voice, though…familiar…I know that…

“GO!”

Shit! Yeah. Good call, lady.

I stomp the gas. The tires spin against the crusted surface, finally catching as the beast looms closer. What the hell does it want? Okay, yeah. This woman–whatever she is, is escaping, it seems. Is this some sort of prison guard?

Fuck it!

Don’t care…

No time to care.

This is the job I’m here for…

Now, how do I get back?

I just gun it toward where the rift between realms was. Surely there has to be a way to escape. Logic would dictate that it should be in the same direction as the…Fuck!!

This thing is fast!

Already on us, tearing its claws into the back, left fender!

You weren’t wrong, Clarence! Those fuckers are sharp! Tore through that fender like paper.

Christ!

It swats its tail against the other side, sending us skidding, sliding to the left! I can barely control the wheels!

Come on, old girl! We’ve been through too much together for you to give it up now! I swear I’ll get you fixed up, good as new, if you can just get us back!

Oh God…We’re fucked!

There’s no time to react, as I see that monster pushing itself from the cracked earth beneath, launching into the air on a direct collision course. I try to cut the wheels, but there’s no way to avoid it.

Can’t close my eyes…

Keep them on the road, kid!

Maybe…just maybe we can…

What!?

How!?

I had just slammed on the brakes, hoping that, if I came to halt, that thing would overshoot us, giving me another chance to break free. But…the second my ancient cab succeeds in stopping, sending a cloud of soot, dust–whatever is lining the road, around us…it–the creature…stops too.

It didn’t land, impacting the ground either before or behind…or on top of us. It’s…it’s just hovering there, the expression on its face as perplexed as mine probably looks right now.

“You know better than this, Campé,” a familiar voice calmly speaks from somewhere beyond the taxi.

“You…should not trespass…here…” a deep, snarling, yet feminine voice utters from the floating monster, its confused expression replaced by one of sheer fury.

“I’m not trespassing anywhere,” echoes from the lips of the ponytailed, and well dressed man as he casually strolls around, seemingly from behind my cab, his hands linked behind his back, “I am not permitted to enter Tartarus, just as you may not cross over into Hell…”

“Yes!” the creature, apparently named Campé snarls, “exactly! And you trespass as we speak!”

Lucifer allows an arrogant chuckle to escape his mouth, his composure still relaxed and seemingly unaffected by the monster’s evident rage.

“We’re not IN Tartarus, luv…the gate’s over there…”

He gestures with a nod, toward the gate, now more distant than before.

“No one said anything about taking a stroll through the parking lot…”

Campé grinds its teeth, its grayed, scaled flesh reddening.

“Set…me…down,” it growls, its eyes now glowing a vibrant yellow.

With another nod, still not releasing the grip of the hands behind his back, Lucifer gently lowers the beast back to the ground.

“She…is…mine!” it almost whispers, its gaze shifting from the ponytailed man, who is now lighting a cigarette, to the robed woman who visibly trembles in my back seat.

“Please,” my passenger whimpers, “please do not allow it to take me back…”

I cut my eyes to face her in the rearview, still unable to make out her shadowed features.

“Don’t worry…you are my client. You are in my cab. You are now under the protection of Scratch and Sons. You will reach your destination…”

I don’t know why I feel so confident about this. Sure, the appearance of the king of Hell has certainly calmed my own trembling. But can he overpower whatever that thing is? And what if it pulls in reinforcements?

Yeah. We’re not out of the woods yet–or out of the hellscape of the fucking prison of the Gods yet…

“Campé. Darlin’,” Lucifer says as he gingerly paces toward the creature, his tone genuinely friendly and kind, “You know the rules–every realm has them. Tartarus is no exception.”

“The rules!?” Campé growls, spitting with the words, “I…OWN…her…”

“Tut, tut, tut…No, luv…you don’t. You and I both know that she was imprisoned here, falsely…She was TAKEN…without justification…And, as the rules dictate: even if her incarceration was warranted…should any entity manage to escape Tartarus, of their own accord and volition…”

Campé visibly grinds its sharpened teeth…

“Then…it has earned…its freedom…”

“There we go…Sure, they don’t teach that one in mythology class,” Lucifer says, turning to face me, his lips forming that mischievous smirk, “but rules are rules, darlin’. And she got out on her own. We both know that is no simple task for any entity, let alone the Gods themselves. It’s quite impressive, if you ask me.”

Without a word, only a wailing snarl, so shrill that it almost makes my ears bleed, the monstrous creature beats its wings against the air, lifting itself from the blackened ground, before soaring back toward the hauntingly immense gates.

Lucifer continues to watch as Campé fades from view, not turning back to face me until his cigarette reaches its end.

“Let’s get both of you back, yeah?” he says, moving to around ten feet before my front end.

Before I even have an opportunity to ask exactly how we are supposed to accomplish this, he turns his back to me, pulling something from his pocket.

I can’t see what he’s doing, his hands hidden from my view. But as a hauntingly loud clanking sound echoes from somewhere before where the ponytailed man stands, he steps back, pulling open reality as though he holds a door between two separate planes.

It’s not the void I see on the other side of this new rift. It’s not the torch lit cavern, nestled away, behind that pleasant street side pub. No. What I now face looks to be the very parking spot in which I had left my taxi, just outside that unusual tavern.

Lucifer offers me a subtle smirk as he casually walks toward the cab, pulling open the passenger side door, and sliding in next to me.

“Home, James! And don’t spare the ‘orses!” he exclaims in an almost comical, cockney accent.

It doesn’t take much effort to traverse the short distance between this side of Tartarus, and that conveniently vacant parking space. Just one brief press of the gas pedal, and I’m gently braking once more.

Pedestrians come and go, up and down the sidewalks. Vehicles of all shapes and sizes dart this way and that on the road. And yet, no one pays the slightest bit of attention to the beat to shit, ancient taxi, which only just manifested in a vacant spot, just off the downtown city road.

As Lucifer glances to the backseat, offering a nod and a gentle smile to the still shivering woman, he opens the door, lifting himself from the cab. I follow suit, as does my client, though quite hesitantly.

After stepping back to the rift between worlds, closing the door he opened, and sliding something back into his pocket, our guide leads us into the pub. He holds the door ajar to allow us entry first, before following, closing that door behind him, just as he had the one which led us from the ‘parking lot’ of Tartarus.

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” he says, that caring smile not leaving his kind face, “there’s nothing to be ashamed of. Not here. Not with us.”

It takes her a moment, her trembling hands slowly raising to the hood, still concealing her features. I don’t know why, but my heart is racing. That voice! Though she has only spoken a handful of words…I know that voice! Not only do I recognize it, but it’s as though it calls out from somewhere deep within my memory. It calls to me.

I only just manage to prevent the gasp from escaping my lips as the pure white hair falls from where the tattered fabric now slips to the back of her head. Her eyes–those almost translucent, violet eyes gaze directly into mine, between the strands of hair.

Her face, though…there is none to speak of. Eyes, yes. A slender slit of a mouth, which quivers as my own eyes begin to water, for reasons I cannot explain. But, where a face should be, there is only a blank canvas of pale, lightly freckled flesh.

It almost appears as though she is wearing a mask, hiding away any features behind it. But no. All that remains of who she once may have been, are such vibrant, almost glowing eyes. And hair which streams like a river.

As tears begin to trickle down where cheeks may have once been, Lucifer moves in quickly, wrapping his arms around her.

“It’s okay, luv,” he says, her leaking tears transforming into almost cripplingly wailing sobs, “we’ll get you back. No one is ever truly lost.”

Though his voice retains that caring, gentle tone, I do hear it crack a little as he utters that last sentence. I imagine, of course, one as ancient as he has lost many over the aeons. Not to mention, now that I can plainly see the rumors of the devil’s change of heart to be true, it’s not stretch of the imagination to see that he too understands what it is like to lose oneself.

As the well dressed man steps back from the woman whose striking eyes glare into his with such…life, I find even my own black blood racing through its veins.

“I’ll give you two a moment,” he says, backing away, pacing toward the phone booth at the rear of the bar.

Though currently…well…faceless, the woman turns to face me. I hesitantly approach her, something within the confines of my subconscious practically screaming at me. But what is it saying?

“Who…are you?” I ask in as gentle a voice as I can muster.

“I…don’t know anymore…who…what…I am…”

Though devoid of features, that melancholy in her strange lack of an expression is clear.

“But…I do remember you…Sebastian…”

She raises her hand to my cheek, the warmth of her palm almost inspiring my own dried up tear ducts to reemerge from their slumber. I wrap my fingers around those placed against my face, my heartbeat only hastening all the more.

I know this touch…this sensation…

“My…my name is…Clarence…”

Her sliver of a mouth lifts on one side, a hauntingly familiar smirk igniting sparks through my subconscious. Yet I still cannot see it. But I know it’s there. I know she is there…

“It would seem that I am not the only one who has lost herself along the way…”

I hear the smile in her words, again fueling that semblance of a recollection I still cannot quite reach.

“How do I know…” I begin to ask, as Lucifer calls from the back, opening the door after hanging up the receiver.

“It’s time, sweetheart,” he says, that compassion still lining his face.

Behind the door stands a woman–an almost alarmingly gorgeous woman, with raven black hair, pale skin, dark…dark eyes. But such a warm smile.

“This is Sophia. She can help you–help you find your way back. It may take time,” he smirks, ushering her forward as her hand slips from my cheek, “but you are not getting any older…”

“You…are not coming with me?” the woman asks, her voice trembling and nervous.

“I cannot, I’m afraid,” Lucifer says, wrapping an arm around her as he guides her to the doorway, “I am on something of a mission of relocation as well. Someone dear to me is…gone. Someone I must find.”

Her eyes drift from his to the woman awaiting her, still wearing that smile.

“But, when the time is right–when things have been set right…for both of us…we shall see one another again. Fear not, luv. You are free! The hard part is done.”

Again, that slip of a mouth forms a smile, her eyes blinking tears as she faces the ponytailed man.

“Go on, now…”

As she nears the door, her head turns to me once more, that subtle grin still present. I return a smile, giving her a nod, almost as if to grant permission to proceed.

What’s that about? Why would she need my permission?

As she begins to cross the threshold she suddenly stops, her eyes widening as she turns to Lucifer, and again to me.

“I almost forgot!” she says as she swiftly paces back toward me.

Stopping before me, she slips her hand into her robe, pulling a clenched fist free moments later.

“Your payment…”

“Oh…um…I…”

She takes my hand, her eyes still fixed with mine. I feel the object placed upon my palm as she closes the fingers around it, our gaze not drifting from each other for a second.

“But I…”

“To brave such perils…for me. For one you cannot yet recall…And for a promise…”

“A promise?”

“That we shall see each other again…That you shall actually see…me…as I see you…Sebastian…”

Before I can say another word, she turns on her heels, hastening her pace toward the door. She doesn’t look back as she crosses over to whatever realm in which this Sophia may exist, but I do hear that her tears have returned.

When the door closes shut, I find myself feeling something I cannot quite articulate. Is this anguish? Pain? Fear?

What the hell is going on with me!?

“Fancy a pint,” the ponytailed man says as he casually strolls from the now closed door back to his spot behind the bar.

I still have some driving to do. Still have to get my beat up old cab back to the hub, and see if they can whip her back into shape.

Fuck it…

“That sounds amazing…”

The chilled draft feels absolutely wonderful as it spills down my gullet. Neither of us speak, only share the silence for a time. Honestly, even with all the planes I’ve visited, and the many insane events I’ve witnessed which could easily shatter the minds of the average mortal, I need some time to process everything.

Lucifer doesn’t pry into what may be going on in my mind, nor does he gaze through the doors of my eyes, he could so easily swing open before. He just stares off into oblivion, puffing away on a freshly lit cigarette. He wordlessly offers me a smoke, tilting his head to the pack on the counter with a raise of his eyebrows.

I only offer a smile and gladly accept the gesture. Sure, I have my own smokes in my pocket. But I’m not about to turn down his offer after everything.

That first inhale does succeed in beginning to settle down the pulse I did not realize was still racing. But only a little. Just enough for me to know it’s taking effect.

“Who…is she?” I finally ask in little more than whisper.

“She can’t remember,” Lucifer replies with a smirk.

“But…who is she…to me?”

I honestly have no idea if he would have the answer to that question. I suppose that I’m more speaking these thoughts aloud in an effort to free them from circling my brain.

“You can’t remember,” he replies again, that smirk widening.

He’s not wrong, of course. I wouldn’t have asked in the first place if I had even the foggiest idea of who she is. But I can’t deny that he’s being a bit frustrating about this.

“What happened to her? Her…face? Her memories?”

“That’s Tartarus for you, mate,” he says with a shrug, “Though the prison of the Gods, there are a great many mortals and other such entities trapped within. And to be lost to that realm is to be truly lost.”

I tilt my head, mostly following what he’s saying, but still struggling a bit.

“So, she has quite literally lost herself?”

“In essence, yes. As she forgot who she was, what her physical being has become, followed that course. But there is enough of her left. When I told her that no one is ever truly lost,” he lets out an exhale of smoke, tapping the tip of his cigarette against the rim of the ashtray, “that wasn’t entirely true. But she needs all the hope she can right now.”

“So…much longer and…”

“And there would have been nothing left to relocate. So many poor, truly lost souls wander the lands beyond that blackened gate. So many who have not a fragment left of what they were. So many who did not have something as significant to hold onto as she did.”

He cuts his eyes to me, that mischievous smile lining his lips. I begin to ask more questions–to attempt to delve deeper into what he knows. But I feel quite certain that he has shared all he is willing to about this.

I remain silent for a few moments again until another, likely to go unsanswered question occurs to me.

“Who is…Sebastos? Sebastian? Either of them!”

The devil studies me for a moment, the smoke from the cigarette pinched between his fingers reaching its end, curling around his face as it works its way upward.

“I suspect that you already know that one,” he says, the smirk having faded, leaving only a serious, and yet still compassionate expression meeting my gaze.

“How? I mean…I’m…Clarence! And how can I be both of these identities as well!”

Again, the man across from me only gazes into my eyes, seemingly muddling over whether or not to share with me whatever he may know.

“Sebastos,” he says, snuffing out his cigarette before lighting another, “was the name your father gave you. Sebastian was the name you chose after the two of you…parted ways…”

“Why…why can’t I remember?”

“And Clarence…is who you are now,” he says, choosing to breeze over my last question.

I let out an anguished exhale, uncertain of how to take any of this. Sure, I have known for quite some time that I’m missing some chapters of my life. I know that my lifespan exceeds that of any average asshole. But what does this mean?

Reincarnation, perhaps? Surely I haven’t really been around so long that I have forgotten who I was? What the hell am I!?

“You should probably get that,” Lucifer says, gesturing to the beat up old cab beyond the window, “back to the shop. See if they can ding those dents out.”

“But…what..?”

“I’ll give old Scratch a ring. Make sure he knows that you were just doing your job. That the damage is not your fault.”

Again, Lucifer gets to his feet, smears out his last cigarette in the ashtray, and begins to stroll around the counter.

“Can’t…can’t you tell me…more?” I ask, desperate to know what he knows.

“Not my place, mate. Some journeys belong to the traveler alone. Besides,” he says, a worn and tired expression taking the place of his default, carefree one, “I have places to be, I’m afraid. I cannot stay away any longer.”

“Lucifer,” I say, my voice still trembling, “thank you. Thank you for getting us out of there. Thank you for everything!”

Yes, a sizable part of me wants to ask why he couldn’t have just opened that doorway to get me there in the first place. But the last thing I want to do is in any way insult the devil. And he did save my ass.

“Don’t mention it, mate,” he says, ushering me to the door, pulling it open when we reach it, “and call me Grant…”

“Grant?”

“All of my old friends call me that now,” he says, giving me a wink with the click of his tongue.

I can’t read that oddly mischievous look on his face, only offering a smile in return. Old friend? Like, I’m a friend who is old, or…Nah…We haven’t met before today, or whenever I actually set out on that ride. I’m certain of that fact.

I just give him a nod, slowly spinning to face the world beyond the open doorway.

As I take one step forward out into the street, I can’t fend off one final curiosity.

“Why Grant?” I ask, turning to face the now vacant tavern.

Only taking a brief moment to pan my eyes across the empty pub, I let out a winded laugh. He’s a tricky one, that Lucif…um…Grant, I suppose.

Before approaching my taxi, I finally release the fingers I hadn’t realized were still clenched around the payment my client offered for the ride through Hell and back.

The tarnished gold, emerald encrusted amulet does look pricey indeed. Not especially large–small enough to fit in the palm of my hand. But…have I seen this before?

Hmmm. Maybe I’ll hold onto this. Could be a useful trinket! Love a handy nicknack. Can’t get enough of them. I’ll do some research later. For now, I need a damn nap!

To my relief, the old girl cranks right up. Yeah, she’s a little worse for wear, but solid enough to get me back to the depot.

Taking one last inspection of the gorgeous amulet, I slip it into my center console for good keeping. I need to grab that before they roll my taxi back to the repair floor.

It only takes a few moments to get back to the highway, and the entry point to the bridge I used to get here isn’t much further off now.

Maybe, if I’m lucky, it’ll take a few days to get my cab fixed up. I could use a bit of downtime after that craziness. One thing is for certain, though: I’ll be damned if I’m going back to Tartarus again…

Hmmm…

Probably a poor choice of words there…

Credit: William Rayne

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