The Gates of Hell

Jaxby staggered through the desert with two empty water jugs in his backpack, but the heat weighed him down. The protein bars were long gone, but that was just as well because he couldn't have swallowed them anyway. He didn't have any saliva. Step by step, he began to accept that he was going to die. Buzzards circled the sky, watching their supper cook. All he had to do was lay down. His legs and feet wouldn't hold him up much longer.

Soon, he thought.

The landscape that hadn't changed since he began this journey was suddenly different as something appeared ahead of him that he wasn't expecting to see.

That shouldn't be there, he mused, but his painful eyes widened at the lights. They shone brighter than nighttime Reno—though it was still daytime. Mirage came to mind, but he tamped it down and staggered on.

~*~

Hours earlier, Jaxsby's car had broken down on Highway 50 in the middle of Nevada. The engine light came on first. Then the radio stopped playing Hotel California. When the world whited out amidst blasts of steam from the engine, he pulled over and panicked. He'd never seen so much steam, and with it came a smell. Something that smelled like jail.

He wasn't going to make his court date on time. That meant jail.

When the steam dissipated and he could see again, he got out and opened the hood of his 2013 Subaru. He knew nothing about cars and didn't know what he expected to see or find, but that's what people did. Perhaps he'd find a card that read, "You receive a second chance. Try again."

Despite his lack of hope, he returned to the driver's seat and tried to start the car. Not even a click. There wasn't a signal on his phone, but he dialed 911 anyway. Nothing happened.

Jaxby, or Jax for short, unfolded his paper map. How far back was that sign that pointed to the name of a town? Here. Since the road on the map dipped downward then up again, he figured he was on the upside of a U. He thought it would be quicker to backtrack if he cut straight through the desert instead of keeping to the road. If he used his compass and held true, he should have no problem reaching the opposite side of the U, and besides, he had come prepared for an emergency like this.

Or rather, Angelina had prepared him before he'd left her in Reno. He shouldn't have gone there to see her last night—not with this court date looming. She told him not to come, but he became suspicious she was trying to keep him away for reasons other than his well-being.

There had been no reason for his lack of faith. He'd found her alone, watching television, and she made him glad he came. He didn't tell her he'd raged out of his mind with jealousy for the entire six-hour drive and would have bodily injured whoever he'd found her with. He had been able to hide that part of himself from her so far. Or maybe not. Maybe he’d blamed her for sleeping late.

He packed the two one-gallon water jugs and a box of protein bars into his backpack. He placed a wide-brimmed hat on his head and wore long sleeves to protect his face and arms from the sun. There was a blanket, too, and Jax shoved it in with the other things, then started out on foot with his sunglasses set firmly on his nose.

After two hours, he wondered how one body could sweat so much, and his legs and feet already ached. He drank water freely without bothering to conserve, figuring he was almost there. He had to be.

When he faced the same landscape another two hours later, the second water gallon was more than halfway gone. He sang to keep his mind off his dilemma. Eventually, his thoughts envisioned his lawyer scowling in the air-conditioned courtroom as his client, Jaxby Johnson, never showed.

The road rage offense had ended with a death and infuriated him whenever he thought about it. Mance Rayfield had started the altercation and had provoked him not once but four times. Four times, Mance had tried to run him off the road. On the fifth try, Jax outmaneuvered him, and Mance's big bad Silverado tumbled down into a ravine. Jaxby's Dodge had followed, but he made it out with only a few scratches. Mance didn't make it out at all. He got what he deserved as far as Jaxby was concerned. It was his lawyer who bade him to show remorse when he appeared before the judge today.

 ~*~

Now hope lay ahead, and Jax used every last bit of his strength to get there, determined to reach the lights. He crawled his way through the last part of the journey and arrived on his knees on the road between two brightly lit saloons facing off from opposite sides. The road disappeared into the landscape in one direction and ended here.

Despite his pain and suffering, Jax laughed at the ingenuity. One saloon glowed a white brighter than the sun on the desert sand and was aptly named "The Pearly Gates." The other was lit with orange and blue flames. "The Gates of Hell" was posted on its entry.

The Pearly Gates door opened, and someone came out. Jax glimpsed a room filled with people and wondered where all the cars were. Perhaps they were bussed in, and later, a bus would arrive to take them back.

"My name is Peter," said the man from the Pearly Gates. Two people dressed as angels helped him up and brought him inside.

"My name is Jaxby Johnson. Do you have a phone I could use? I need to call my lawyer."

"We have no phones here," said Peter. "Everyone asks, though."

"What happens if there is an emergency?"

"We have no emergencies either. Please excuse me while I get my book."

Jax was given cold water and a small cake.

"Angel food," said the angel that served it. Jax was feeling much better by the time Peter returned with a tome.

"Read it!" Peter told him. "At the end, you'll have a choice to make."

Jax looked at the book entitled Jaxby Seth Johnson with his birthdate to the current date listed on the front. What was this? How did they know who he was? He looked for Peter, but Peter was nowhere.

He opened the book.

The first page brought up his first lie, the first candy bar he had stolen, the first fight he'd gotten into, and went on and on from there. He was served more cake as he read. A pitcher of water was refreshed.

While the road rage incident with Mance appeared near the end, it wasn't his last offense. Angelina had tried to wake him that morning, and he'd pushed her away and told her to leave him alone. Then later, even though she'd filled his car with emergency supplies, including the paper map and compass, he blamed her for running late and called her a foul name just before he left. It made her cry. She didn't deserve it. It was the only thing he felt remorseful about.

Peter returned. Jax had a thousand questions but didn't get to ask them.

"It's only for that remorse you are feeling that I am offering one second chance. Heed my warning. You won't get another, so choose carefully. Follow me!" he said.

Jaxby followed. They stepped outside.

A mountain of boulders stood before them. Peter offered a silver hammer to Jaxby.

"One stone for each of your trespasses and two stones for each of Mance Rayfield's misdeeds since you took his life. Once you turn the stones to dust, you may stay here. Think carefully before you decide, for my offer comes but once. If you decide against it, we'll disappear forever, leaving you to the mercy of The Gates of Hell."

Jax was confused. Was this a dream? A mirage? Something didn't feel right. He looked over the pile of boulders reaching to the sky. Changing them to dust with the small hammer Peter offered would take a lifetime. Who was Peter, anyway?

"I don't feel I should have to pay for Mance's wrongdoings."

"Very well," answered Peter. He took the hammer from Jax, and the world flashed out.

 ~*~

Jax was back on the road, back on his knees.

The Pearly Gates was gone.

The Gates of Hell lay before him.

Jax crawled forward.

No one came to help him.

When he pushed the door open, a crowd cheered. Two people dressed as demons pulled him to his feet. Mance Rayfield stepped out and punched him in the face. The crowd booed.

Jax punched him back. The crowd cheered.

Back and forth.

Booing and cheering.

Jax was tiring. He needed to rest.

"You win," he said to Mance.

Booooo, the crowd answered.

Mance hit him again.

The crowd cheered.

"I said I give up," Jax said.

The crown booed.

On and on and on. All at once, a gate appeared in Jax's peripheral vision. He edged toward it, connecting a bloody fist to Mance's bloody nose. Another step. Another blow.

When he was close enough, he opened the gate and raced out into the desert. A sky of stars welcomed him into the cold night.

 ~*~

Without warning, he was back in his Subaru singing along to Hotel California, smiling in relief, until the engine light came on and the radio stopped. The world whited out amidst blasts of steam, and Jaxby pulled over. He opened the hood. Tried to start the motor. Packed his two jugs of water and his box of protein bars. He left the blanket behind. He wouldn't need it.

This time, he stuck to the road and conserved the water. Maybe a car would stop. Or a bus. Hours later, lights blazed from up ahead. When his feet gave out, he crawled. A buzzard cried out from the lonely sky.

Only The Gates of Hell remained. The Pearly Gates was gone. For the first time in Jaxby's existence, he felt remorse. Remorse for everything.