Christina's Inferno

Christina's Inferno

  Copyright 2014 Zachary Hull

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  Christina’s Inferno

  By Zachary Hull

  ‘Tonight is the night.’ Christina said cheerfully as she picked up a red marker and added a tally mark to the whiteboard. It was covered with various coloured marks, totalling one hundred and thirty-three bundles of five and a solitary mark at the end.

  She dropped her bag on her bed and took out a series of large language books she was using in her studies of old and ancient languages and placed them on her bedside table. At the moment her studies focused on Latin, Arabic and Enochian, an odd language that some consider the language of Angels.

  She quickly tossed her bag into the corner before changing out of her normal clothes and into her pyjamas, yet she kept her shoes on. She pulled a large, heavy dressing gown out of her wardrobe which she flung onto the bed. It was too hot for a robe – what with it being summer outside – but she knew she would need it later.

  Christina reached under her bed and pulled out a small defibrillator, placing it on top of her language books. She set the alarm clock that was connected to it for six a.m., put some gel on the blue electrodes and placed them on her chest, under her clothes and around her heart.

  She put on her robe, careful to make sure the cords connected to the electrodes were not too tight, and laid down on the bed, getting comfortable under the covers. She reached over and took a purple bottle of pills from her drawer, placed three in her hand and then returned the bottle to the drawer.

  'Have I forgotten anything?' Christina asked herself as she searched around her room.

  'Clothes?' she pulled at her robe. 'Check. Shoes?' She wiggled her toes. 'Check. Wake up call?' She looked at the defibrillator; all the right lights were on and the alarm clock said six a.m., 'Check. Pills?' She swallowed the pills. 'Check.’

  It did not take long for the pills to kick in. Christina's vision blurred, her muscles relaxed and her body turned heavy. She looked up at the ceiling and watched as the patterns danced around each other like embers around a flame.

  She sighed contently as her vision went dark and the tranquillity of sleep submerged her.

  An old man ran through lines of thick bramble. The sharp thorns tore at his flesh, dripping blood onto the rocky ground. Behind him a large pack of feral dogs, aroused by the scent of blood, darted between the bushes.

  The dogs corralled the man through the thickest branches with the sharpest thorns. With each new cut that formed, his legs grew weaker and the dogs closer. One of the smaller dogs caught up to him and bit the back of his calf but was thrown off when it struck a branch.

  With a sudden burst of speed, the man began to run from the dogs, towards a clearing, but he tripped on a rock and fell to the ground.

  He stood up and looked at his surroundings. The bushes were still, the air silent. He sighed loudly and tried to catch his breath when dogs appeared from all directions, grabbing hold of him, their teeth and claws tearing at him viciously. His screams pierced the air and blood stained everything around him.

  As quickly as they had ravaged him, they dispersed, leaving the man in a bloody mess – not dead, but dying. His legs were torn open, muscle and bone exposed to the thick air. He looked up and saw a young woman in a heavy bathrobe carrying a large torch saunter his way, but before he could call out to her, he heard snarling behind him.

  He turned and saw the smallest of the dogs, its teeth bared and bloody. It lunged at him and wrapped its mouth around his throat.

  Christina watched the dog kill the old man, the other dogs in the pack silently surrounding her. She moved the torch and was met with the black eyes and scarred face of the alpha male of the pack. She offered him her hand; the large dog sniffed it and backed off. The rest of the pack immediately followed.

  She walked over to the mangled corpse. ‘Poor profligate.' she said as she touched the corpse with her torch, setting it on fire. 'Run faster next time.'

  Christina walked to the centre of the clearing, away from the body as it burned. The fire was slow to consume the corpse. Small embers landed on the nearby bramble and set them alight, which made the thorny branches burn and break under the heat. The fire grew rapidly, larger and more uncontrollable as it engulfed the bushes. It wasn’t long before the entire area was enveloped in golden-red flames that reached high into the pitch black sky.

  Christina began to sweat as the flames circled around her. She looked up to at the darkness. 'Don't take too long now.'

  The flames grew higher and the heat intensified. A sole ember landed on Christina's robe. She hurried to snuff it out with her hand before her clothes could catch on fire. 'Hurry up!' she yelled.

  A large figure flew through the smoke; it had the body of a lion, large serpentine wings and a tail like that of a scorpion. It buffeted the clearing with strong gusts that extinguished the flames around Christina and with its large tail that dripped with venom, the creature stomped out the flames of all the nearby bushes.

  When all the flames had been extinguished except for the one on Christina's torch, the creature turned his attention to the young woman. He had the face of an honest man but, at that moment, his expression was one of frustration. 'Was that necessary?' he asked.

  Christina smiled. 'How else was I to get your attention, Geyron?'

  Geyron frowned. 'You could have sought me out, child.'

  'I didn't feel like walking.' She said flippantly.

  'You could have died.’

  She placed her hand on his cheek. ‘You wouldn’t have let me.’

  He sighed. ‘Foolish child, there is no winning with you. I assume you want me to help get down to the final circle?’

  ‘If you wouldn’t mind.’

  He turned away from her and offered her his tail which was shaped like that of a scorpion. Christina walked up to his tail, carefully avoiding the venom that oozed from the tip. She sat down and held tightly onto his fur-covered back. With a flap of his large wings they were up in the air and flew towards the large cliffs that marked the edge of the seventh circle of hell.