INFERNO

I was driving my 1933 Indian Four up Topanga Canyon. It was about seven o’clock in the evening and the weather was sweet. The Santa Ana winds had been keeping the end of this hot summer a cool seventy-degrees and life was good. The sound of my engine made me feel alive. This year I had turned fifty and I was facing the last half of my life in a great place. I had an amazing wife, enjoying early retirement from selling my business, and two amazing sons that brought joy to my life. I was genuinely happy. 

As turned into a tight corner of the road, a truck had creeped into my lane, and it was a near miss as I veered my bike out of the way. God, that makes me angry. Another idiot looking down at their phone. I tried to shake it off but my chest was heavy. I continued riding my bike and noticed in the darkness a large red neon light that I had never seen before. It looked like a vintage gas station sign and as I rode closer, I could read the sign INFERNO. My curiosity took over and I pulled into the dirt parking lot. It was filled with some of the most incredible motorcycles  I had ever seen. I found a space and parked my bike.

After taking my helmet off I checked out another Indian motorcycle I had parked next to. My jaw was nearly to the ground. How did I not know about this place? The building looked like an old gas station with all blacked-out windows and I couldn’t see inside, however,I could hear the dull roar of conversation and it called me. I have driven this road many times and never noticed this place. This seemed impossible. However, after narrowly missing the truck, a cold beer sounded mighty fine to me. 

Upon entering the bar I was greeted by an absolutely enormous man dressed in leather, covered in tattoos, with long black hair. He handed me a black card that read INFERNO.

“Your number is on the back.” He grunted. 

“My number?”

“Yeah, your number, grab a seat and wait for it to pop up over there.” 

He pointed over to a large black door. Above it there was a sign similar to the DMV's that had the number SEVENTEEN lit up in red. I looked down to my card and read the number twenty-two. Confused I looked around the seedy bar. Everywhere I looked I saw bikers chatting with each other. The place was packed. It was very dark and the large leather booths seemed inviting. I glanced over at the nearly full bar of patrons sitting side by side on the barstools.  I wondered to myself, how on earth do I not know about this place? I looked up to see a female bartender waving me over, “There is a seat over here.” 

I walked over giving a nod to another biker who looked at me. I sat down at the barstool looking to the empty seat to the right of me. On my left sat another biker drinking a chocolate milkshake. I smirked, thinking to myself, that's not something you see every day. I looked up the bartender who stood smiling at me. She had a friendly face and I immediately took notice of a huge tattoo across her arm. It was a tattoo of ‘the weighing of souls.’ “What can I get for you?” 

I thought a moment and searched behind her but there wasn’t any liquor anywhere. I quickly noticed there wasn’t any taps either.  In fact only retro milk shake mixers lined her area of the bar. Confused I asked, “Can I get a Fat tire?” 

“We don’t serve alcohol.” 

Confused I looked around the room. Sure, enough there wasn’t a beer in sight. I was surrounded by grown men drinking assorted milkshakes and feasting on hamburgers and fries. I looked back at her and asked, “Is this some sort of themed restaurant?”

“I don’t know what you mean hon?” 

“Like a fifties themed…” 

She laughed. “No, nothing like that. We’ve been here for a very long time. How about I give you our menu.” 

“Sure, thanks.” 

Suddenly a boisterous voice announced from a speaker hanging from the ceiling, “EIGHTEEN.”

Everyone stopped talking and searched the room. A grumpy looking man who had been sitting at a corner booth wearing a “Hell’s Angels vest slowly stood up. Everyone watched him finish his strawberry milkshake and slam it on the table as he proudly finished. He stuck his grey stubbled chin out and adjusted his vest in pride walking confidently toward the ominous black door. He opened it and blinding light poured into the bar. Everyone looked away until the door shut loudly behind him with a heavy SLAM. Then everyone went back to their banter. 

I looked down at the black menu placed in front of me. INFERNO written boldly as the header. 

It was a short menu. The milkshake options were the classics; chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry. Everything offered was spicy. Jalapeno burger, Hell’s Chili, Ghost Pepper Nachos, Spicy deep fried pickles, and Hot Wings. “I see.” I muttered to myself. 

“Bill?”

A familiar voice greeted me as I felt a hand on my back. “Dicky Black?” I could barely breathe. “Man it’s good to see you.” I stood up and patted him on the back. Then it came to me. 

“Good to see you too brother.” 

I embraced him and then looked back at him as my stomach flipped. “Dicky, the last I heard you were in a coma from that horrible wreck in front of Neptunes. I didn’t think you would survive. When did you get home?” 

Dicky stared at me confused, “What are you talking about?”

“Have you made your decision Bill? There’s only three people ahead of you.” The bartender’s kind voice interrupted up. I turned to see her pointing at the number eighteen glowing red above the large black door. I glanced back down to my card and re-read the number twenty-two. 

“How did you know my name?” I asked her. 

She pointed at Dicky, “He just called you Bill.” 

“Oh right.” 

“Let’s sit down my friend.” Dicky pointed at the menu in front of me. “The hot wings are great. You need the milkshake with it though. They are seriously spicy.” 

The boisterous voice cut through the noise again and announced, “NINETEEN.” 

Dicky and I both turned like everyone else and saw a woman stand up. She had long red hair and had a doubtful look on her face as she stared at the black door. The large man who had greeted me slowly approached her and asked, “What will it be? In or out?”

Confused I looked around the room and to Dicky and started to whisper, “What’s going on?”

He put his hand up with a loud “Shhhh” 

I looked back at the woman and she shook her head and said, “I aint ready yet man.” 

The large man took her card and then escorted her to the front door and let her leave. Then everyone went back continuing their conversations. 

"It’s good to see you Bill. It’s been a year or so right?” Dicky told him unphased. 

“What the hell is going on here man? What is this place?” I whispered. 

“As far as I know Inferno is one of the most exclusive biker bars in the world. So the fact that you got in is amazing bro.” Dicky fidgeted with his black card flipping it back and forth. “I’m number fifty. What’s your number?”

“Twenty- two” 

The bartender returned and impatiently asked, “Well? What will it be Bill?” 

I looked back down at the menu and replied, “I guess the hot wings and a vanilla shake. Thanks.” 

"Great." She hurried behind what appeared to be the kitchen door.

"Hot wings are a great choice. I've had them a few times myself. Can't go wrong."

“So do you remember what happened?” I asked him. “I heard your wife is going to sue those girls who hit you.” 

“What are you talking about?” Dicky asked. 

“With their Jeep. Those teens that drove their Jeep into you. Your motorcycle crash man? That sent you into your coma. I’m just so happy you are alright.” Dicky stared blankly at me. Then it occurred to me that he might not remember. Maybe he had memory loss. My vanilla milkshake and hot wings arrived. I looked down at them. “They have a fast kitchen here.” 

Dicky softly asked, “I honestly don’t know what you are talking about brother.”

“TWENTY.”

Everyone went silent and watched a young kid stand up and walk quickly toward the back door. I tried to watch him enter but the light was too intense. Everyone, like me either closed their eyes or looked away until the SLAM of the door shutting was heard. “Where does that door lead to?” I asked Dicky.

“That’s the big question.” Dicky shared. “When they call your number you either leave back the way you came, out the front door or you walk through that black door into the light.” 

I laughed, “Okay man.” 

The other patrons glanced over at me. The bartender walked over and scolded me, “We don’t joke about the doors.” 

“Sorry for my friend. He’s new here.” Dicky excused my apparent bad behavior. He pointed to my card, “Didn’t you read your card? Or the menu?” 

I looked down at the card in front of me. It just read INFERNO on the front, and I flipped it over and the number twenty-two printed clearly on the back. I held it up to him, “What am I missing here.” 

“Flip it over again.” 

I flipped my card over again and again and then suddenly a word slowly began to appear that read… CHOOSE. I stared down at it, “Weird.” I muttered. 

“It’s your choice. You go back out the front door where you entered from, or, you go into the light.” The bartender explained quietly. “Your choice.” 

A sinking feeling came over me. For a moment I wondered, is this an insane dream. I pinched my leg hard and felt the pain. Then my stomach twisted as I looked back at Dicky. “Dicky? How long have you been here man?” 

Before Dicky could answer me, “TWENTY-ONE” interrupted us. We all once again searched the room and a skinny guy stood up shaking. He grunted and walked toward the black door and entered the light with SLAM behind him. I felt sick. 

The bartender handed me a receipt for my food. “Better eat up. You’re next.” 

I stared down at the receipt and the same image of her tattoo was printed on it. The image of ‘Weighing of souls’ stared at me with the word Choose just underneath.  “Oh God.” I whispered to myself. 

 It arrived at me. Dicky was still in a coma. The last I heard they were taking him off life support soon. It all started coming back to me. I turned to look at Dicky who continued to fidget with his card and my throat suddenly felt very dry. I took a sip of my milkshake. It was insanely good. I found my voice, “Dicky?” 

“Yeah?”

“What’s the last think you remember about your life?” 

Dicky’s eyes narrowed deep in thought and then filled with grief. He tried to act manly and brush it off by changing the subject, “Try the hot wings man.” 

I stared down at them and then I heard it. What I had been dreading. “TWENTY- TWO”

It grew quiet. Everyone in the room stared at me. I looked down at my card. I felt someones presence and turned around. The huge man stood looking over me and gruffly asked, “What will it be?” Everyone quietly waited for my reply. I tried to swallow my fears and stared at the black door. My curiosity was much to hard to bare and so I stood up and shook Dicky’s hand. 

“Good luck Dicky.” 

“You too Bill.” 

I slowly walked toward the black door. Thoughts rushed through my head and I started to feel overwhelmed with great anticipation of what could be on the other side. When I reached the handle to the black door an image came to me and I stopped myself. The image was of my stunning wife and two boys playing together at Zuma beach. I couldn't go any further. I turned around and looked back at the other door. I knew what I had to do. I retreated and made my way toward the front and just as I reached it the huge man stepped in front of it blocking my path. He held out his hand. I gave him my card and then he asked. “Are you sure about this? Once you leave you can’t come back.”

“I’m sure.” 

He opened the door for me and I stepped back into what remained of my life. They found me, ten feet off the road. Just below the tight corner that the truck driver had driven me off off. I survived and so… I chose to live.