The Tunnel: Arrival

When he awoke he felt a softness beneath him that was not his air mattress. There were no covers over him, yet he was not chilled. He moved his head back and forth and instead of the softness of pillows there was that of fine grit, as if he lay in a pile of baking soda.

     Opening his eyes he immediately saw this place was not his apartment and there was no daylight but a dim twilight rippling across the distant, betoothed ceiling above him.

     "Not what you expected, eh brudda?" A man's raspy voice lilted just outside his peripheral vision, yet his body did not respond with even a hint of startlement.

     "No, not at all. Where is this place, and who are you?"

     "This place is hell. I'm the Devil. You are Barthalomew Grisby, just Barthalomew Grisby. I'm here to welcome you."

      "Shit, hell? Really?"

      "Really."

      "And you're a fucking devil?"

      "That's The Devil, capital D. I run this unfortunate shit hole."

      Bart strained his eyes in all directions but still couldn't see the other man, so he rolled onto his stomach and pushed himself up with his arms. There was, he thought, a remarkable lack of discomfort in the act. He looked up and there the Devil stood. Instead of horns there was a wide and curling handlebar mustache. Instead of red skin there was moon paleness and freckles. Instead of a whipping, barbed tail there was a fine, grey tailored shirt and smoking jacket. Instead of naked, hoofed legs there were black trousers and dress shoes.

      "Don't stare, it's embarrassing," said the Devil.

      "Shit, sorry man. So, I guess I'm dead, huh? Didn't fall into good graces with the big guy upstairs, it seems."

      "You gave up, Bart. Hell isn't a place for the wicked, it's one for the boring. Now look, there's nothing to eat down here, nothing to drink, nothing to do, really. It's best you come to grips with this in the near term."

      "That's--counterintuitive. Aren't you supposed to be torturing folks and having orgies and what not?"

      "I couldn't torture if I wanted to, Bart. You see, there's nothing to feel here."

      "Then what is it you do, Devil?"

      "I'm a governor of sorts, and I visit the newly dead, let em know what to expect--which is nothing at all."

      "I see."

      "Anywho, gotta run, you ain't the only new arrival today." The Devil backed away with an elegance Bart had never before seen, and disappeared into the dusk.