Scruples

There are defining moments in every person’s existence when one questions their decisions, their judgement, and how they reached this low point as life flashes them by, but this… This wasn’t one of those moments.

Nothing held my attention more than the melon-sized fist barreling down on me. The large, calloused paw had refined the act of bashing to a science, and before I could flinch, the thing imploded my face. The bone crushing punch finished with a resounding crack, and daggers split across my face.

For a second, I forgot where I was. High-pitched ringing pierced my eardrums, and I heard a vague groan somewhere in the vicinity. It took a while to know it was me, and I couldn’t decide if I wanted to pass out or vomit.

Once the spinning stars vanished, I could make out Charon’s tired silhouette. The ferryman had it in for me, and with good reason, but without his little black book of souls, there was nothing he could do. Dragging me into Hades’ hellfire wasn’t on the menu today.

I spit out the warm blood filling my mouth. Shit! Was that a tooth? I tried to focus, but it was hard to tell through my blurred vision. I swished my tongue across my front teeth and groaned. Gone.

“Little Bitty Chit Chit!” Charon snapped. His low snarl pealed around me off-key like a doll in need of winding. “Can you hear me?” he said, yanking my ponytail back. “Can she hear me?” he asked the monstrous woman next to him.

The demon shrugged, still grasping my shirt with one hand, while her other three balled fists hovered in the air like rattlesnakes ready to strike.

My blood stained her knuckles, and I pictured my face like a swollen marshmallow, which made me chuckle. Here I was, little nobody, holding my own against Death himself and his monster.

That she could pulverize me did little to sway my arrogance, and although it didn’t look like it, I was confident I had Charon by the cojones. If in fact he had a pair. Who knew what lurked under his brown wool robe? Beurk! The mental image grossed me out.

“Gee, Mormo, I think you broke more than her pretty face.” Charon leered, stretching his lips into a sneer. His maggot-filled mouth and rows of rotten teeth made me gag.

Charon scanned the abandoned warehouse. Morning light filtered through the large window near the ceiling, lighting up the remote corners. His oversized white eyes had only ever known darkness, and he covered his pale brow with a bony hand.

The warehouse was small, but big enough to hold a half dozen lockers full of people’s abandoned crap. He’d never find his black book in time. He’d have to go back to the underworld empty-handed, and I’d have one more day.

“The souls cry out to me,” he said, “tell me where you hid it, and I will show you mercy.”

Mormo tightened her grip around my shirt. Her unibrow thickened as it scrunched towards the middle. Her wicked eyes narrowed with rage as my collar cut into my neck and choked me. This was gonna hurt, I thought, but at last, sun-rays filled the window. The metallic lockers reflected the sun and bathed the whole warehouse in light.

Relief washed over me. “You won’t,” I croaked, giving the ferryman the best toothless-smile a girl could muster.

I admit, aggravating the Grim reaper wasn’t the smartest idea, but I was a fighter, and Death wouldn’t stand in my way. I had one more day to save my soul and I would use it.

“You can’t cheat death, Kora. I will find my book, and you will cross over. Hades commands it. You’ve only delayed your passage to the underworld, nothing more.”

“Not before I save my soul, old man.”

Charon shook his head. “Hades will make you suffer for this.” He took one last look around and grumbled before he and Mormo vanished in a cloud of black smoke.

As soon as the monster released me, I crumpled to the ground. The beastly woman was the only thing holding me up.

Sprawled across the floor in a pool of blood and misery, I sighed. “No,” I chastised, “don’t waste time.” I had twelve, maybe thirteen hours before sunset to avoid eternity in hell. “Get on with it.”

The neon light inside the warehouse’s dank bathroom buzzed as I switched it on. Whoever was staring back at me in the grimy mirror, I didn’t recognize.

Both my swollen eyes had turned crimson with bursting blood vessels. I was turning into Mormo. Eesh!

I gently pulled the patches of bright red hair glued to my skin from all the caked blood. Three of my front teeth were missing, but the worse was the brim of my nose. The bone was askew, pulling the tip towards the right.

Jaw clenched, I reminded myself. “I’ve suffered worse.” I doubt it, I thought, the voice of reason sticking it to me.

A few short breaths later, I grabbed my nose before I lost my nerve and set the bone back in its place. My knees went soft, and I crouched down to the floor, dry heaving with pain.

Safe from the threat of vomit, it was time to get the ferryman’s book of souls and take my name out.

Hidden underneath the toilet, I leaned against the cracked bowl, lifting the base. No longer connected to the water-main, the yellowed remnant opened its mouth and revealed the precious roster.

From the look of its worn-out edges and rumpled sheets, it seemed old, but not since-the-dawn-of-time old. What was truly spectacular was how thin it was? This book held all deaths since the beginning of time, and yet it was only half an inch thick.

I opened the book in the middle, not sure what to expect, and a hundred names appeared in alphabetical order. I turned the page, and another hundred names magically came into view. On and on it went, page after page, thousands of names, and somehow, I never seemed able to reach the end.

Finally, the moment I dreaded loomed over me. Honestly, when I snatched the book, part of me hoped that this was one big misunderstanding, that I still had time to turn my life around.

Growing up in the streets, I learned to survive. It was eat or be eaten, and I preferred doing the eating. I always assumed I would find money and do better, but in the back of my mind that stupid little voice laughed as I scrolled down the K’s. Sure, it said! Who you trying to convince?

I shut it out by reading the names out loud. “Komala, Konani-” The pit of my stomach sank. “Kora Aïdes…” There I was, the sum of my existence, laid out in fancy cursive writing.

I rolled my eyes. “Hell, who was I kidding? I deserved my place in… hell.”

Instinctively, I ripped out the page. If my name wasn’t in there… but another grew in its place. I scratched out my name, but the ink disappeared. Or, I could just keep running, but that didn’t seem practical.

Out of ideas, I skimmed the first pages, and there were dozens of maps. Maps of the underworld, maps of every continent, even maps of places I didn’t know existed, but one map piqued my curiosity. It read: “Viaticum. Provisions for the Journey.”

The map showed a place near the mountains that looked very familiar with a large X marking the spot. I frowned. Is this why Death didn’t want me to have the book? He was hiding something. Maybe I could bribe Death and force him to let me go? Hmmm, what did I have to lose?

By the time I reached the base of the mountain, it was midday. From what I could read on the map, I was looking for a cave entrance near a boat-like rock formation, but all the boulders looked like... boulders.

When at last, there was no mistaking Charon’s broad vessel. The canoe shaped rock had a tall hook at the front carrying Death’s lantern, leading inside a dark cavern.

This place felt familiar as the cave’s cool air hit me. The contrast from the scorching sun was unsettling. I moved in deeper, searching for booby traps, wild two-headed animal’s, or big Mormos…

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary until I felt a sharp resonance like an electric field. It prickled the hairs on my skin. I took one more step, and as soon as my toes crossed the invisible energy field, I was in the underworld. I sensed it immediately. Hades’ hot breath set my teeth on edge. The wind was unnatural, but not all that uninviting, if I was being honest.

Shit! Charon would sense my presence, but my concern faded when all around me stood mounds and mounds of gold. I had found Charon’s treasure.

It made sense. For thousands of years, people paid the ferryman passageway into the afterlife. This was his life savings. It was a dragon’s share of gold and silver as far as the eye could see.

Caught up in the excitement, I stuffed my pockets with as much coin as they could hold. I knew exactly what I would do with it too. Screw redemption. I would live a life of luxury. I would pay my way off the streets. I would eat and drink like the Gods, and I would buy new teeth, but the dream was short-lived.

My name was still in Charon’s book of souls. What good would gold do me stuck in hell? I dropped my fistful of coins, and out of the corner of my eye, caught one coin shining brighter than all the others.

I clambered through the loose gold, my deep pockets weighing me down, but I outstretched my hand and seized the small token calling out to me. This one piece was worth more than all the other gold pieces combined.

On one side a woman’s face. I flipped it over and written in small letters was the name Persephone.

Simply by touching it, I knew this was the coin of coins. Its value far outweighed all the others. It vibrated to a different tune, and perhaps it was my imagination, but the air seemed sweeter as a voice whispered into my ear, and I swear it said, “eat me.”

At last, Charon appeared. “You found my gold.”

Did I detect fear in his voice? I showed him the shimmering coin, and dread sunk his sallow cheeks. Just as he yelled, give it back, I swallowed it.

“Nooo,” Charon screamed.

I was expecting to transform into a giant titan with tentacles growing out of my head, anything that could defeat Charon, but not even a goddess could help me cheat death. What the Queen of the Underworld gave me however was even better. She gave me a choice.

By swallowing Persephone’s coin, the protectress of the afterlife had taken a shining to me, part of me believes she chose me for my street cred.

I could accept my fate, follow Charon in his little tugboat, spend life in purgatory, hoping my penance would one day redeem my soul for boring old heaven, or I could sit by my Queen’s side and rule over the damned and risk the wrath of Hades. It seemed the underworld had grown too small for both of them to rule. A war was afoot.

Sure, it was hot, and muggy, and full of agonizing eternal torment, but who was I kidding? The flames tickled my insides. They always had. I was no angel, well not that kind of angel.

The curled grin across my blistered face must have had quite an effect, because Charon backed away, pleading for mercy.

All I could think was how fun this would be! I could practically taste the wine already.