THE CALLING

I came to this town hoping to find something. Something called to me, in a way. For lack of better words, something wanted me here.

It felt so strange, leaving it all behind like that. My wife, my kids, my job, I just left it. I used to lie awake at night, listening to noises I wasn’t quite so sure I even heard at all. I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat. All I could do was dream, dream about this feeling of mine, deep down in my gut. Like a calling, it came to me some time ago. I didn’t answer it, I couldn’t. At least, well, I thought I couldn’t. But it grew, like a small ember that grew into a massive inferno, it grew inside of me. So, one night, as I lie there listening to the mightbesomethings, I just got up and left. Just got in the car and drove off. I didn’t know where I was going, but this feeling of mine did. It told me where to go, which turn to take, how hard to hit the gas. My hands almost drove here for me. Minutes turned to hours, hours grew into days. After six days I stopped counting. Now I have no idea how long I’ve been gone, but I’m sure I’ve been fired and someone is looking for me. In a way, I guess I’m afraid of being found. For a while I figured that fear would be trying to explain that I left because I felt like it, but in a way… it’s almost like I just don’t want to be found.

The miles poured on like a hailstorm. I stopped for gas when I needed to, and I stopped for food when I had to. But as soon as I paid for the gas, or as soon as I finished eating, I was back on the road. Miles of desert stretched out before me; and endless plain of heat and dirt sprawled across the world. For a while it was like I was the only person left alive, save for a gas tanker here or a moving van there. Eventually, it got to the point where I was pretty sure I had fallen asleep at the wheel, yet every time I woke up, I was still driving. I rarely stopped to sleep, and when I did, it was in the car on the side of a road. And when I woke up, I would drive.

The feeling grew, and I knew I was getting closer to where I needed to be. Finally, I stayed up late enough to cross a state border. It should’ve shocked me that I had driven from Pennsylvania to Nevada, but it didn’t. The feeling inside of me wanted to come here, so I did. And when the car started to slow down, and the feeling inside began to rumble… almost weaken, yet get stronger at the same time… that was when I knew it got where it wanted to be. I peered out through the window as I passed a sign. It was dirty, rusted, bent and dented, like it hadn’t been replaced since the end of time, like maybe the Dinosaurs had put it there, knowing what would come in the years to pass. The letters were faded and scratched, but still readable.

Gothica, Nevada

Population: 666

I thought my eyes must’ve been playing tricks on me as I read the sign. This must’ve been some sort of side-effect of my countless hours of driving with little food and sleep, and no rest whatsoever. I took my hands from the wheel, but the car was moving so slowly that I didn’t have to care. I rubbed my eyes, cleared them of the tire and the eye gunk that develops over nights, and took another peer at the sign.

Gothica, Nevada

Population: 746

I stepped on the gas and sped down the road. I didn’t want to see the dilapidated old sign ever again, in fact I wanted to kill it from my memory, erase it’s pathetic presence on my mind. The town grew nearer, a small town in the middle of nowhere, a town you knew nobody has ever heard of, even though this was a main highway and it went in a straight line, right through the middle of the town. Still, the low rumble remained in my stomach, and I knew I would find what I was searching for in this town. Whatever what I was searching for happened to be.

I slowly entered the town, and I didn’t see much. The buildings were old and run-down, and there wasn’t a soul in sight. It was like something you would see in the old west, except if it was brought into this century. The place was calm, quiet, tranquil. It made me wonder how well off the world would be if there wasn’t anybody living on it, destroying it, devouring it. Still, the lack of people disturbed me, and I wanted to see someone. Anyone. And then I did. Suddenly the streets were filled with cars, and the porches sat on by old men in rocking chairs. A child playing with a ball on the poor excuse for a sidewalk stopped playing and stared at my car as I drove by. The men on the porches also stared me down. As I drove on, everyone that passed stopped whatever it was that they were doing and stared at me. I started to become annoyed, I wanted to drive faster, pass them all and keep going, but my hands and feet didn’t seem to want to respond to my wants. I hated these people, I wanted them to stop staring at me. I was about ready to stick my head out through the window and scream at them, just let out all of this wondrous awe that had been building up within me. “Hey! Stop staring at me! Get on with your life!”

But I didn’t need to. They were all suddenly too involved in their own lives to care about a stranger with a Pennsylvania license plate slowly passing through their nothing town. No one even gave a passing glance. My feet sped the car up slightly, and my hands guided the steering wheel. The car moved itself down various dirty, monotonous roads, through twists and turns, over potholes and around pylons. Finally I came to a somewhat nicer area of the town, there were more trees here, and the ground was less dirty. It didn’t last long, and soon enough I was back into the same hot, dusty, gravel-paved town. The car parked itself in front of a small building with a large neon sign which read Joe’s Burger Stop in big cardboard letters. It was so classic, yet the giant cardboard woman dressed in ‘50s attire and smiling as she devoured her hamburger and milkshake was somewhat frightening. It was something about her eyes, her humongous, cardboard eyes. There was a certain terror to them, almost like she was being coerced by some crazed off-cardboard director: “No, smile wider! Tilt your head more! Get the shake in the picture! Wrong, wrong wrong! Do you want to get FIRED!?” But after a second glance, everything was back to normal, the scene stopped playing through my brain, but her eyes remained the same. The sign didn’t look right somehow, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Still, I was somewhat hungry, so I stepped inside.

Inside was a regular restaurant. Classic, stereotypical. It was dark and dank, and there were a few round tables and a jukebox toward the front of the place, on either side of the door. Straight across from that was a bar area where a disgruntled-looking waitress wiped the table with a dusty cloth. Perhaps she was upset so because of the rag, it seemed to be making the bar worse, more dirty and mucky, rather than clean and sparkling and shining, like the TV shows. Still, she would look at the mess the rag made, sigh, and then keep on wiping it some more. A few barflies sat hunched over at the bar, fondling their variously-filled glasses and grumbling to themselves about whatever they were grumbling about. There were restrooms at the very back of the place, but I didn’t really want to imagine how filthy and run-down they would be. As I stood in the door, I looked to the side and noticed a man at one of the round tables staring at me. I turned away and saw some old arcade machines on the side, across from the bar, and behind those, next to the restrooms, were rectangular tables with booth seats that had red and brown padding on them. I didn’t have to get close to know that the padding would be ripped and tattered, it was just the atmosphere of the place. The kind of thing where you can’t have one without the other.

“Are you gonna stand there all day, or are you gonna take a seat and order somethin’?” the waitress asked, snapping me out of my assessment of the place. The man who had been watching me shook his head and lowered it back down as I walked up to the bar. At first I dreaded the thought of sitting at the filthy bar, but I figured I hadn’t come four thousand miles for nothing. Approaching the bar, I realized that there weren’t any seats where I could sit alone, without anyone to either side. I was antisocial, but I figured there wouldn’t be a problem.

“Mind if I sit here?” I asked a man sitting at the bar. Even though he was sitting down, I could tell that he was tall, somewhat round around the belly but not fat, and aging. He might’ve been in his fifties or sixties. Still, his hair retained much of it’s dark color, although he did wear rather large glasses over his bright blue eyes. For some reason, his face reminded me of that of a bird of some sort, although it bore no resemblance whatsoever.

“What kind of a question is that?”

“I wanted to know if you minded me-”

“It’s a free country.”

“All right,” I said, taking a seat next to the man.

“What do you want?” the waitress asked.

“Well… um… I…”

“Haven’t got all day, sweetheart,” the waitress said. I had been absent minded, noticing how clean the bartop in front of me was.

“I guess I’ll have a hamburger,” I said. Some people in various locations laughed as I said it. The waitress shook her head and grimaced. The man to my left cackled hysterically.

“You new in town or somethin’? We don’t serve hamburgs here,” the waitress said. More laughter.

“But, the name of the restaurant-” I said, looking around and pointing to the dry, hot outside world. More laughing.

“Do I look like a Joe to you? We don’t serve burgers. I’ll getcha a cuppa coffee, on the house, new guy,” she said as she left the area. I just sat there thinking about what had just happened, pretending not to hear the whisperings or see the pointings.

“You got a job?” the man next to me asked.

“Pardon me, uh, sir?”

“A job, you know, some boring old building you wake up early every morning and drive to, push a bunch of papers, sign a bunch of initials, then drive back home at night for a few bucks an hour, a job, you got one?”

“Well, uh, yeah. ‘Least, I think I do,” I replied.

“How can you not know?”

“Well…”

“Nevermind, I don’t care. I got a job. I’m a writer, ‘least I used to be. Ever read one of my books?”

“I wouldn’t know, I don’t do a lot of reading,” I stated. The waitress placed a white cup of black coffee before me. I thanked her, and she merely replied with “Mmhm” before leaving to go clean something.

“How can you not read? Can’t know anything if you don’t read. Marian!” he suddenly shouted.

“What?” the waitress shouted back from a table at the back of the room.

“More whiskey!” the man said.

“In a minute, Rich,” she shouted back.

“Ain’t she a dear. Ever read the Gothica Gazer?” the man said.

“No, I’m new here, haven’t been in town for very long,” I replied.

“Well, ya should. Not your regular newspaper. Not your regular articles, or your regular columns,” the man said in an odd tone. The waitress filled his glass with more urine-colored fluid, and the man practically jumped with joy. I stood up.

“Well, it was nice meeting you, all of you,” I said as I looked around the room at the people staring at me. “…but I think I’d best be going. Got a long trip ahead of me.”

“I’ll see you around, then. Watch out for Regan Street, place is a deathtrap. Marian!” the man shouted. I left the building. The feeling had come back, but it left as I left the building. It wanted me in the town, but not in Joe’s Burger Stop. I looked around. It was still hot. Still sunny. Still dusty. I got back into my car and started riding. I listened to the old call, the faint groan, the childish whisper, waiting to hear where it told me to go next. The scenery rolled by, and I noticed how few trees there were in this town. There was barely even any desert shrubbery, but with the heat of the sun, it wasn’t hard to imagine why.

“Wake up,” a voice that seemed to appear from nowhere said. I looked back ahead of me just in time to slam on my brakes as I almost ran a red light and T-boned another vehicle. Some cars honked at me, and the man that I had nearly run into glared at me and flipped me off as he passed. I sat there, halfway into the intersection, waiting for the light to change back to green, thinking of who might’ve said that. The light changed, and my ride continued. I watched the road ahead of me for a bit, still a little shaken by the near-wreck. After some time, I was able to look over and off to the side. This area of town was a lot greener. I came to a red light and stopped. Suddenly a very strange sensation came over me. The feeling inside began to intensify, and then level off. It didn’t go away, rather, it more became all that I could feel. Something told me to look to my right. I didn’t want to, I knew there would be something there. Good or bad, I didn’t want to see anything. I could just tell. I would turn my head slowly, look to the right, and see a dark street, covered by the shade oft the trees. So dark, it was almost night. I would see something, not quite there, but not quite not there either, like a photograph that hasn’t fully developed yet. Then, it would all come into crystal clear view as I squinted to see some man with an ax bring it down into the helpless body of some innocent passerby. Over and over again he would bring the ax into the body, and it would go deeper and deeper, become redder and redder-

But there was nothing but an empty street when I looked. Still, something wasn’t right. The street looked just as I had imagined, even though I had never seen it before in my life, and if I had, I didn’t remember it. I pulled over on the side of the street, and got out of the car. The image was gone from my head, but I could call back enough of it to remember where the gruesome event had taken place. Approaching the approximate area, I looked around. There was nothing here. It was shady and a bit cooler than Joe’s, but there was an extremely uncomfortable silence. I looked around. A gentle breeze swept over the area, cooling the spots of my face that had been laced with sweat. I looked down again and nearly jumped as I saw the bloody, hacked-up body on the ground. It was only there for a fraction of a second, and then it was gone. The ground was made of concrete, a slightly darker color than the rest of the sidewalks on the street, as though it had been replaced at some point in time. My heart was racing, and then a strange thought occurred to me.

Where was the axman?

I turned around to look at the area where the murderer had been standing, but there was no one there. I was afraid to blink, and I just stared off into nothing.

“Can I help you?” a voice from behind me asked. Startled, I turned to see a young man standing behind me, looking at me with a strange, inquiring look in his eyes.

“No, thank you… I’m fine,” I replied. The man stood there, and for a sudden split-second he became the axman. His once thin sculpture was now bulky, his pale skin now dark and bloody in some areas. The questioning look in his eyes was replaced with one of hatred and anger. His arms were help high, ax raised above his head. His wicked smile revealed rows of rotting, yellow and black teeth. But it soon was gone.

“Are you new here?” the man asked.

“Yes, I’m from another area… I was just passing by, I thought I saw something,” I explained while motioning with my hands.

“Well, welcome to Gothica. My name’s Lewis, Lewis Freeman. Most people call me Lew.

“Well, Lew, it was nice meeting you, but I must be going,” I said. He looked insulted, and he probably was. Normally I’m a very friendly extrovert type of person, but I didn’t want to be around Mr. Lew One-Minute-I’m-An-Axman-And-The-Next-I’m-Not anymore. I turned my back and started to walk back to my car.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” a strange, deep voice asked. I turned around, and the axman was standing there. His smile was gone. I rubbed my eyes, blinked, tried anything to make him turn back into Lew, but it didn’t work. The sky above was pitch black, yet the street itself was the same shade. In a sense, it was dark, but still bright out. The axman started running at me, and swung his ax. I jumped to his left and rolled, barely missing his ax. He stumbled through the air, and nearly tripped and fell. I stood back up, and he turned to look at me. I turned and started running, but after two steps I tripped and hit the ground hard.

The body. I forgot about the body.

The axman rushed over to where I was lying on my back, trying to back away from him. The bloody corpse lie on the ground right near me, and the axman was ready to give it a lifetime friend. He raised his ax, and brought it down. Thinking of nothing else, I grabbed the corpse and used it as a shield. It worked, the ax was lodged in the dead person, and I was perfectly fine, except for the fact that I was hundreds of miles away from home, phasing in and out of reality and now using a dead person to keep an axman from chopping me up. He brought the ax down into the body a few more times, and I could see an impression where the ax would soon penetrate the dead body and enter my own. I looked around, tried to find some sort of escape or defense, but saw nothing but grass, street, sidewalk. A few more whacks and I’d be done. I looked around again, wishing for something, hoping there was something I hadn’t noticed before, and then I saw a rock. I reached for it, but fell a few centimeters short. The ax broke through the dead body, two more swings and there’d be enough of a hole to fit the ax and kill me in one swift motion. I stretched my arm, hoping to grab the rock, and reached it with ease. The ax came down, but the body went up as I shoved it toward the axman. It fell, and the axman raised his ax again, but I threw the rock and it struck him in the face. He nearly dropped his ax as he covered his face with his hand in the place where the rock had hit him. I got up and started to run down the street, looking around to try to find some help. I turned to look and the axman was barreling down the street at me, going twice as fast as I was. Frantic, I stopped running and entered the street. There was a large gap in between the street and the sidewalk where a drainage gutter rested. It would be a tight squeeze for me, but the axman had no chance of ever getting in. I got on my belly and started to crawl into the small space. I could no longer see the axman to judge how close he was to me or how close I was to death, but all I cared about was getting into the drainage gutter. Then, One more inch forward and I was wedged. I struggled to make it the rest of the way in, but I wasn’t budging. This was it, I was now simple bait for the axman, my bottom half wiggling around, ready to be chopped apart. I imagined I’d probably fall into the gutter easily as soon as I was chopped in half, and couldn’t help but think that I’d have made it if I had gone on that diet my wife had suggested for me a few months before. Then, suddenly, I was free - I fell face-forward into the gutter. I hit the cement hard, and scrambled up, staying low. I was in, and I could see the axman above, his blazing eyes looking at me, wanting my blood. I breathed a sigh of relief, and I could see the axman no more. Then, suddenly, the ax entered the gutter and swung around less than a centimeter from my face. I jumped backward, hitting my head on the back wall of the small gutter space, and almost fell forward back into the eager ax. I pinned myself back, and the ax was slowly getting closer and closer to reaching me, the growls of the axman becoming more and more happy and enthusiastic, he knew he’d succeed in killing his target. I looked around and saw a small space over to my left. I could make it, but I’d have to crawl on my belly. A difficult task, as I would have to shift around, and moving any amount at all could result in losing my head. So I timed it, the ax swung back and forth, back and forth, back and I jumped to my stomach, the ax grazing my clothes as it returned another forth, but I was unharmed and successfully on my stomach. I looked up and the ax was close enough now to where I had been, that if I hadn’t jumped when I did I would surely have perished. My gaze switched back to the crawlspace, and I carefully crawled forward toward it. I got inside, it was a tight squeeze but If I continued forward, I figured I’d find a manhole on the street where I had parked. I crawled slowly, trying to prevent myself from getting wedged in this dank, pitch-black space. After escaping the axman, dying in a hole because I had put down a few too many bags of chips was not something that I fancied. Then, I could see a dim light ahead - six pillars of light, tiny but there. A manhole cover, I’d be free. I didn’t stop to realize that the axman was probably standing above the manhole waiting for me, all I could focus on was getting out of this place. I crawled to an area where I could now stand up, and I reached up. I could feel the cold metal of the manhole cover as my fingers grazed it, and I inserted them into some of the holes. Then I pushed up, thinking I was free until I heard the loud metallic CLANG! of the manhole cover hitting the underbelly of my own car. The space between the two metals wasn’t nearly enough for me to squeeze through, and it was too dark to see if there was another crawlspace that would lead to another manhole. So close to freedom, yet so far away. At least some fresh air was getting in, and I knew I wouldn’t suffocate in here. Starving was another issue, though, so I knew that standing there holding a manhole cover wasn’t going to get me anywhere in life. I let the manhole cover fall back into place, and the apparently old cement holding it crumbled and fell away, and the manhole cover followed it, landing on my foot and crushing a few of my toes. I screamed in pain, jumping up in down while holding my foot, and cursing under my breath. Then, I set my foot back down, and tried to take a step. There was a sharp pain and I limped to avoid falling down completely. Looking up, I knew I had enough space to crawl out now, but would I be able to get out form under my car and into the driver’s seat before the axman got to me? Only one way to find out. I grabbed onto the edge of the manhole, and hoisted myself up. I hit my head on a pipe under my car and nearly fell back down and into the hole, and by now I was positive that the axman had probably heard my escape efforts and was probably waiting right next to my car to finish the job he had started. Still, I climbed up and onto the street, and I was laying down under my car. I looked around, expecting to see the axman’s feet, but I found nothing. I listened, waiting to hear his disgruntled breathing, or maybe the shifting of his metal armor or a sniffle of his nose. It was quiet, deadly silent. I crawled over to the edge of my car on the driver’s side, and stuck my head out. I looked to the right and saw nothing, and then I looked to the left and quickly pulled my head back under my car as another vehicle rushed by, nearly taking my upper half with it. My heart was racing, but I fought off the urge to yell. I decided to try again, but this time I looked to the left first. No cars were coming, so I quickly crawled out from under the car and stood up, gripping the door handle. I had almost yanked it open, but luckily for me I froze in fear at the sight of the axman sitting in the driver’s seat, smiling ravenously at me through the window. He raised his ax and I jumped backwards as he smashed it through the window, sending glass shards everywhere. As I hit the ground behind me, my foot gave and I fell to my knees in a pain stronger than any I had ever felt before. I couldn’t move, and the axman knew it. He could see it in my eyes, hear it in my breath. He slowly got out of the car and walked toward me. He stopped before me and raised his ax, ready to strike, when suddenly a car ran into him, tires skidding to a stop. The axman flew several feet through the air and skidded several feet more upon hitting the ground. The driver’s side door of the car that had just hit the axman opened, and a familiar man stepped out.

“Get in, unless you want to die,” Rich from Joe’s said. I stood up, but fell back down.

“I can’t walk,” I explained. Rich rolled his eyes and helped me up. We started to go around the car toward the passenger side when a thought hit me. “Maybe I should drive,” I suggested.

“What?”

“You’ve had quite a few drinks, no offense, but I don’t want to escape this guy and then die because you can’t see straight,” I explained. I looked to the right and the axman was getting up, even though it had looked like he would’ve surely died after a hit like the one he had just received.

“I can see straight enough to whack that guy, I think I can get us out of here safely,” Rich said. He opened the passenger-side door and practically stuffed me in, and I put on my seatbelt as Rich rushed over around the front of the car again. As he passed, the axman was revealed and he was quickly running toward the car. Rich got in and turned the key, but the engine stalled. The axman got closer and closer, and Rich turned the engine again and again, but nothing happened. The axman slammed the ax down and into the hood of the car, and Rich turned the key again and the car started. Rich slammed on the gas, and the car went backwards very quickly. Rich stopped the car and put on his seatbelt, and then drove forward again at full speed, running into the axman again. Rich drove on with the ax still stuck in the hood of the car, full speed ahead. I breathed a sigh of relief at getting away form the axman, especially with his weapon.

“How did you get caught up with that guy?” Rich asked.

“I don’t know, he just appeared there,” I replied. “Your name is Rich, right?”

“Call me Richard. If he just appeared there, then you’re in trouble,” Richard said.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I guess you haven’t figured it out yet. It usually takes a while before anybody really gets it. When you first got here, did you notice anything strange?” Richard asked.

“I haven’t noticed anything that wasn’t strange,” I replied. Richard chuckled.

“Normally when you first show up, everything goes your way. Things changed, things happened the way you wanted them to, didn’t they?” Richard said. It suddenly made sense; the sign, the dirty-to-clean bartop, even me seeing exactly what I had thought I would see on Regan Street, if that could be called wanting.

“So you’re trying to tell me that whatever I want to happen will happen?” I asked.

“No, after a while it changes. It doesn’t become what you want, it becomes what you deserve,” Richard said. He made a sharp turn, and I tightly gripped the armrest as though it would help me at all.

“What did I do to deserve the axman?” I asked.

“I dunno, you tell me. It could be anything, really, maybe you just need to start being a better person,” Richard said.

“What are you talking about?” I asked. Richard was starting to anger me.

“Karma, cause and effect, comeuppance, call it what you want. Do good, and good is done unto you, do bad, and you get the axman, except usually it isn’t this severe, normally it’s as simple as you don’t get what you want. Like hamburgers. But this axman, you must’ve done something pretty bad, Richard said. He had slowed his driving by now, and was driving like a sane person, and far better than any drunk I had ever seen.

“I can’t think of anything recent,” I replied.

“Doesn’t have to be, could be from any point in your life,” Richard said. With those words, I knew exactly what it was. Richard turned and pulled into a driveway, and I noticed that it was suddenly very sunny outside, and the world was back to normal; at least it was more normal than it had been before. “You’re welcome to stay with me until you find a place of your own. Hell, I’ll probably get a wife for this one,” Richard said with a laugh. We got out of the car and Richard took his keys from his pocket as we approached the front door of what must have been his house.

“I once killed a man,” I said. Richard stopped messing with his keyring and looked at me.

“Why the Hell’d you do that?” Richard asked.

“I got angry, I suppose. They tell me it was self-defense, but I don’t feel that way. Nobody needs to die, but the self defense theory got me only a few years in prison. I did my time, I don’t think I deserve this axman.”

“Then kill ‘im.”

“What!?”

“Kill him.. That’s what you’re supposed to do, that’s what this place is. Call it Atonement if you like, but you’re supposed to kill your sins,” Richard said. He opened his front door and we entered the house.

“So you’re telling me that this axman is my sin, the result of me killing a man?” I asked. Richard sat down in a recliner and motioned for me to sit down in the one across from him.

“Yup.”

“So I’m supposed to kill a man because I killed a man?” I asked. Richard laughed.

“He works in mysterious ways. Anyway, you can’t call a sin a man. A man can make sin, but sin can’t make a man. Like I said, that’s what we do here, we kill our sins. I’ve got a few demons of my own that I have to take care of, but it’s worth it in the end,” Richard said.

“Is it?” I asked.

“Isn’t anything better than Heaven,” Richard said.

“I don’t believe in Heaven.”

“Then you’ll be here for a while. But, better a thousand years here than a thousand Eternities in Hell,” Richard said. He reached to the side of his recliner and drew a rifle, and then loaded it with some bullets. It made me nervous, like Old Rich had only saved me from the axman because he wanted to kill me himself. But this left when he tossed the rifle to me.

“I can kill Sin with a rifle?” I asked. Richard laughed.

“It’ll surely help to weaken it in its physical form, but once you get it down to its core essence, it’s gonna take a lot more than a rifle.”

“How do I kill its essence?” I asked.

“You’ll have to figure it out for yourself. He should be here in a few minutes. You like movies?” Richard asked.

“What?”

“Do you like movies? You don’t read, so you must like movies.”

“I guess so.”

“Well, you wouldn’t find this in a movie. The ending always has to be epic, really big and full of special effects. The final battle: Good versus Evil, the last fight. It’s really just layer and layer of horse manure. Your fight’s going to be pretty simple, I’d say. And no movie would choose this battle take place on a writer’s front lawn,” Richard finished. He looked at his watch. “I’d say he’s out there waiting for you by now.”

“What happens if I lose?”

“I couldn’t tell you. Maybe Hell, I don’t know. This is atonement, after all.”

“Why do you keep saying that? What’s going on, where am I?” I asked. Richard laughed.

“Something drew you here, didn’t it? Something you were just dying to get to? You came here looking for something.”

“Yes. Yes, I did,” I replied.

“You came here looking for Salvation.”

“I’m not interested in-”

“Cut the crap. You know I’m right. Well, you’ll get it if you can kill your sins. It’ll take a while, I must admit. But it’s worth it, ya know. Your axman’s waiting for you, and I’m hearing a higher calling, I guess it’s my time, I‘m done. I’m pretty happy, and I’ll meet you on the other side, supposing you make it that far,” Richard said.

“You’re going to die?” I asked. Richard laughed, and I could swear he was starting to fade away.

“I already have. So have you. I really thought you’d have gotten it by now. You’re in Purgatory, kid. Not quite Heaven, not quite Hell, somewhere in-between the two. You’re as dead as a doornail. Now get out there and kill your mistake,” Richard said. For some reason I believed every word of it, I guess I had to. I had always thought of dying as being just a flash and then you’re done, there’s nothing left. Well, whatever. I stood up and went to the front door. I opened it and stepped outside, and the axman was leaning against a tree, ax in hand. I looked at Richard’s car, and the ax was gone from it. The axman smiled and prepared to attack. He ran toward me; closer, closer, closer. Then, when he was a few feet away, I raised the rifle and shot him square in the chest. He flew backward, his ax fell from his hands. He was lying on the ground, trying to get up. I walked over to where he was and aimed the gun at his back, and fired until the loud bang became a quiet click. The body was lying on the ground, motionless.

Fix your mistake.

I never really thought of myself as a religious man, but why not start? I did believe what Richard had said, after all. The body before me decayed at an alarming rate; the skin melted away and the muscle rotted, and a black, aqueous type of skeleton was revealed. It stood up, and the axman’s eyes were still in the skeleton’s sockets. I threw the rifle to the ground. The skeleton started to approach me.

“Heavenly Father, I know I never really believed in You, and I sure haven’t been the best person in the world-” the skeleton was getting closer by the second- “but I have killed a man. And I am sorry for it. I won’t kill another. I don’t get what I’m supposed to do, but even as this… thing stands before me, I won’t kill it. I’m sorry,” I finished. The skeleton stopped walking. His blazing red eyes faded into a cool blue, and fell to the ground and un-­melted. It became someone. Not the axman, not Lew, but the man that I had killed in my life. He stood up.

“Is it over?” I asked. He nodded, smiled, and then turned around and walked away. I looked around. I had other sins to kill, but none would be as tough as the axman. I turned and went back into Richard’s house, but he was gone. He was done, I guess.

Heaven sounds like a good place to be. I’ve still got some sins to kill, some things to atone for. It’ll take a while. But after all, I came to this town looking for something, looking for Salvation. Besides, like Ol’ Rich said; better a thousand years here than a thousand Eternities in Hell.

I’ve got some cleaning up to do.