The 9th Fortress Read online

  "Deep breaths, Missy!" she said, sucking in that crisp air. "From your birth on February 22nd 1971, 8:45 a.m. Ontario, Canada, to your death in that same province, Nov 9th 2012, 20:09 pm…twenty-four minutes ago!" She briefly stalled to enjoy my mystified expression.

  "I was there for your first tooth! First day of school! Was watching when they removed your tonsils and then later that afternoon when you lay in bed, thick chocolate ice cream streaming down your front; you were the cutest! I was over the kitchen table when, at six years old, you shaved the hair off the dog's back and reapplied it with jam. My oh my, what a mess!”

  "I still have that picture," I mumbled, overwhelmed by this floodgate of forgotten memories.

  Missy lowered herself to my right ear, but finding nothing there but wax, she ploughed on. "Ugh, your obstinate mind still hopes you'll wake from this any second! Luckily, I've trained for the fight, and this should convince you otherwise!" She huffed and puffed and…"Your Aunt Audrey? I am the one who urged you to check on her that morning. You got the ambulance just in time, too. I was the one who warned you about wearing a seatbelt an hour before your car hit that tree in Colorado."

  I nursed the lump in my hair from that particular accident, whilst Missy parted my fringe to the side she preferred. "An only child, Daniel, your father was a hardworking Scot from Glasgow; your mother came from Bordeaux, and you speak French fluently. Together they made quite a team, and didn't they pour so much love into little ole you!"

  She carried on with her facts, but I was lost for the moment in the memory of my parents. Fortunate to have them, I was their, and clearly Missy’s, most treasured possession.

  "At thirty-six," she said, almost finished, "you made it to detective sergeant for the Ontario Provincial Police. They were the happiest days of your life. Today is the happiest day of mine, Daniel. Been such a rich experience, and an absolute pleasure to be…"

  "Stop!" I demanded, stunned by her battering ram of information. "All of this…It's not possible, is it?"

  "Why not?" she returned, softly. "Do tell me why not?"

  I ransacked my thoughts for an explanation, and drawing a blank, I replied just as softly. "How can there be an invisible angel bleating about me all the days and nights? How can there be an irrational place like this with no walls, windows, or doors? How can that be?"

  Disheartened, Missy tried again. "What makes a heart beat? How can the sun nourish the Earth and the moon attract the seas? The human race is surrounded by miracles: the bees and butterflies, the roses and rainbows, not to mention the profound power of the brain. The universe is strung together by thousands of tiny little miracles Daniel, scattered everywhere. One day soon this new world will seem so old and rational to you, and like all miracles, it will be taken for granted. Trust your eyes and your instincts at a time like this; and trust me, trust that I have always been there and with your best interests at heart, an absolute rollercoaster of emotions, and we rode it together."

  The girl fell silent now, allowing me some time to take it all in. No, I wasn't going to wake from some drunken binge on a stranger's sofa. I wasn't going anywhere. Missy had finally pierced her skeptic's shield.

  "Dead," I whispered, retracing the steps in my mind. How did I actually die?

  The memory returned quicker than I expected; more than a memory, it was a recording fixed in crystal clarity, followed by an injection of pure adrenaline. Everything began to spin now. My lips quivered, my teeth chattered, and all of a sudden, I found myself transported atop that fairground Ferris wheel, with death staring back at me. Before I could relive the experience all over again, however, my mind shut like a book and returned me to the world of white. I vomited down one side of the stone, and Missy came swiftly to prop up my head.

  "There is no more pain!" she hissed. "It's over! Open your eyes and breathe! In and out, breathe…"

  I now knew how one could lose his mind in a place like this, and where it could be lost. Steadying myself, I wiped my mouth clean with a sleeve, the swirling nausea and vision of death gone, for now. Only the refrigerator drone could be heard for the next few minutes. Tears glittered in my eyes, and when I cleared them, I was struck by an unconditional love written over this young girl's face.

  "Is this Heaven, Missy? This place?"

  "Heavens no!" she declared, insulted. "Does this look like divine architecture to you?"

  "I guess not. How does this usually work then?" I asked, dreading the answer. "You know I never gave money to charity; or any of my time to religion. Does that…put me in trouble?"

  "Only religion starts trouble," she returned, further confusing me. "There are no churches here, Daniel, no mosques or synagogues. Religion is a divisive invention, filling voids in some and making the darkness less frightening for others. You will learn that wisdom is the highest of all virtues, not devotion to ancient superstition. Believe in God, Daniel, not religion. Come with me." With elegant haste, Missy pushed forward and pulled me along by the wrist, her wings wafting cold air into my face.

  "Where are we going?" I asked, struggling to make my legs work.

  "We have an appointment," she answered, over her shoulder. "This minute, an angel of the highest order will be combing through your ledger. Cannot figure who it might be, though. The secrecy is most unusual; the life support is made aware of all things concerning their individual. It's compulsory!"

  "A ledger?" I panted. "You mean, like an account?"

  "Catching on, Daniel! Your ledger has precisely forty-one pages, each documenting a year of information. Pages show life through your eyes; details you've looked at during your time, no matter how trivial, will be recorded in the ledger."

  "What if I was blind?" I asked, and she chuckled like the child she was.

  "The ledger doesn't just show images Daniel, it allows the reader to experience you! To wear your shoes, feel your thoughts, and hear your words! It's a conclusive biography!"

  Mulling over this daunting information, I felt extremely exposed, stripped naked. My life, my inner most personal thoughts and feelings always open for strangers to read in some supernatural exposé?

  "It is completely natural!" she stated, rifling through my head. "And although revealing, the ledger is the only way to the truth. It is the way of things. Rest assured, Daniel, the angel reading your ledger is under oath to keep their findings sacrosanct. So, try and relax. Every person who has ever lived, every pharaoh and president, king and queen have gone through this process. If it still embarrasses you, then think of this: You also have an afterlife ledger, a fresh start for nobler pursuits, and today is page one. "

  For all her words, the idea would never sit comfortably with me, or anyone else, I imagine. However, I guess there are some things in life — and death — that are unavoidable.

  ***

  Missy kept her wings flapping at a steady pace in front. By this time, I was adjusted to my rejuvenation, and to the plain white world, which thoroughly disappointed. This certainly was not Heaven, but it wasn't really any place. It lacked life, care, and color, the ingredients that made the planet I left special.

  "I'm to be judged here?" I asked, the pace and nerves causing my heart to race. "This dull space?"

  "This dull space," Missy informed, again over her shoulder, "is called the Waiting Plain, the other side of space, actually. There is nothing to fear. Hurry now."

  "I'm not afraid. It's just the weirdness of it all. The Waiting Plain?"

  "Here one first meets his life support, as you have. One also waits for his case to be heard, as you will."

  Confounded by the idea of a celestial law and order, I was nonetheless intrigued as I avoided the draft her wings produced.

  "This is a waiting room?" I asked. "Where are the magazines?"

  "We do a different sort of reading here,” she said, happy to satisfy my curiosity. "Souls take time to be heard. The life ledger contains all the facts, though, and every one must be taken into account. For example, a child may be brainwashed
into a belief system by small-minded parents, but with education can grow out of that ignorance. A man may commit a petty crime one year and cancel it out with charitable penance the next. You see, Daniel, qualification for Heaven does not come through solemn prayer or blind devotion, but through moral fiber, the makeup of heart and soul in all living things. Once all that has been taken into consideration, a verdict is returned and justice carried out. Death truly is the great equalizer."

  "And how long am I to wait, Missy?"

  "You are to be heard immediately! As I said, it is most unusual. Faster now… Tardiness is unacceptable!"

  On the move a while, Missy rambled on and on about her favorite subject — me. Her passion made the girl impossible to dislike, but I quickly discovered that hearing only about oneself gets extremely tedious. Her knowledge seemed bottomless; the most intimate and banal details of my life were hers to sift through — good habits and bad, long standing friends and brief acquaintances. She knew what I preferred to eat and what made me wretch; she knew the ideal hours of sleep my body required — seven, apparently — and was weirdly jealous of the women who kept me from them. She was privy to how much I earned and the junk I spent it on, and how many years I worked to become a police officer and the pride I felt wearing the badge. My dreams and nightmares were hers, too; there was absolutely no hiding place from this angel's eye.

  Does she know when to shut up? I thought at one point. The phosphorescent glow of this blank world brought about a migraine, and I began to question if we had actually moved at all. The smooth surface seemed to flow backwards whilst my feet continued forwards, as if trapped on one, vast, go-nowhere conveyor belt.

  "Just your imagination," she answered back. "Headaches are common, too. It'll pass."

  Remembering Missy's remarkable ability to hear my thoughts, I focused them on the question at the forefront of my thinking, and awaited her telepathic reply. I concentrated hard, but Missy floated on without reaction or comment. Frustrated, I shouted the question several times over in my head, but still nothing. Finally, I clutched her elbow and braked with my heels.

  "What?" she complained, jolting back. "Why do you stop us?"

  "Don't you know?" I said, unapologetic. "Or are you just avoiding the issue?”I have someone I'd like to see Missy, and you know it."

  Wearing that expectant expression, sadness descended over her bright face.

  "Let's keep moving Daniel. Let's?"

  "What's wrong?" I asked. "Tell me."

  "Nothing. Now we're almost there, so…" she tugged at my wrist, but I rooted my feet put.

  "There is someone I'd like to see," I insisted. "Don't ignore me. You've told me everything about my life, but nothing of hers. Didn't even mention her name, did you? Where is she? I won't take another step until you…"

  "No!" the girl interrupted, shunting her palm at the end of my nose. "Do you think I haven't heard you? Do you think I cannot feel your pain? Shame you can't feel mine or you wouldn't have drunk your life away over it!" This was the serious adult speaking now, the ripe wisdom she hid so well behind a youthful face. "How can I put this?" she said, caressing my shoulders. "How can I?"

  Her difficult expression gave me cause for concern. What could be so hard to say?

  "Your daughter," she stuttered, "is in Heaven. You are not."

  A gunshot went off in my head, striking my brain and all it controlled dumb. The mention of my twelve year old tended to do that, but the idea that she was somewhere close by, somehow, tangibly alive, hit me harder than usual this time.

  "Kathy," I said, feeling the life drain out of me.

  Postponing our rush, Missy gave me a much-needed minute on my backside.

  "The living do not realize the grief the dead go through," she said. "Your daughter lost a father, but she had a strong life support, and loving grandparents to see her through the worst."

  Astonished, I could only shake my head. "This is fucked! Totally fucked!"

  I sensed Missy's disapproval at the language, but I didn't care. Gazing up at a ceiling of white nothings, I tried to imagine Kathy's life in Heaven. Had she grown out of her glasses? Would her eyes even need them? I pondered the possible changes to her personality, how her new home had shaped a mind so young, and what influence my parents could have over her life there. Who were her friends? Where did she live? How did she live? I thought over these and more mind-bending questions as Missy assisted me to my feet.

  "My girl is in Heaven," I said, proudly.

  "That she is," said Missy, smearing a tear from my cheek. "That she is."

  I felt the distant presence of my daughter inspiring so much energy back into me. I could move mountains with this power, sweep the seas and ravage all the armies in the world. I would do whatever it took.

  Facing my life support, I asked my last question — the only question: "How do I get into Heaven?"

  "That is what we are going to find out…”

  3. The Elder Statesman

  Hard on Missy’s heels, I assumed more than an hour had past when I encountered the first thing in the afterlife that truly frightened me. It was desperation.

  "Wait! Please stop! I beg you to stop!"

  Glancing right, I noticed a lanky man stagger drunkenly toward me, arms trailing as if they could not keep up with his torso. Feeling the loss of Missy's grip, I smirked over this person's moustache, too big for his face. Dressed in a craggy tuxedo with flapping tails, his bushy brows hid the eyes underneath. Seeing no harm in the vagabond, in fact, relieved to find another sharing my limbo, I gestured him closer. Upon reaching me, the man threw his hands around my neck.

  "Help me!" he cried. "Oh, please help me!"

  Drool dripped from his salivating lips; he was hollow-cheeked and wore scratches down each of them. I took an immediate step back, but he followed, snaring me in his hold.

  "Are you God?" he begged. "Are you God? Answer me! Answer!"

  I called for my life support, searching to my left and right. A cold trickle then ran down my spine; Missy was gone, and I was alone with a lunatic.

  "You are God!" he announced, showing all his teeth. "You must be! Oh, almighty…What have I done?! I have suffered long over my actions! Why have you forsaken me?! I was due a place on that raft! I was bloody entitled! Why am I here? Explain yourself!" He throttled me, insanity pumping adrenaline through his muscles. "Why do you keep me waiting?!" he panted. "Lord have mercy! Lord hear my prayer!"

  I cried out as his unkempt fingernails sank into my throat, and feeling the blood trickle down my chest, I pressed my hand to his face and gouged at the holes there.

  "You think I can’t kill a God?" he grimaced back. "Do you think I won't murder a God?!"

  "I am not…! Get your damn hands off!"

  His blunt teeth tore at my palm, then fought as he inched his face closer to mine. His breath stank of scotch, and cigars stained every fibre of his clothing.

  "No!" I scowled. "Get…away!"

  The eyes seemed to glaze over as he resorted to snapping at me with random bites here and there. He barked an inch from my cheek, and then took a snap off my eyebrow and a pinch from my chin.

  "I will become one with you!” he seethed. “Take this body and eat from it! Take this cup and drink from it! Oh, Lord God!"

  "Leave him be!" a brilliant voice commanded, and with that, a sudden punch of air violently parted us.

  Dazed and on my back, the hungry man was over ten feet away. His face was in awe as he gawked past me to a lavishly dressed man dangling a black, three quarter hat in his hand. Advanced in years, this new arrival had a soft face with few lines, kind lips, and a mop of white hair falling in curls to the collar. He wore a linen shirt with fancy cuffs, and a tightly fitting black waistcoat matching his breeches. His ridiculous scarlet stockings caught the eye, wrapping down the shins to a pair of gleaming shoes with golden buckles. He was a walking museum piece, a character that did not belong in my time, but seemed perfectly at ease in this one.

 
Wiping the taste of my blood from his mouth, the slovenly man clasped his hands in prayer and then fell humbly before the elderly gent’s polished shoes. "Why?" he sniveled like a child. "Why do you have me wait still? Have mercy, Lord! Will you end this pitiful injustice? Will you end it today?"

  The old man looked over the tramp with contempt, an expression that seemed all the worse on that friendly face. "I am gob-smacked you made it this far, Mr. Ismay," said he, with a refined English accent. "Your tenacity, however, is to be admired."

  "Oh, it is to be admired! It is, my Lord!"

  "I am not your Lord," he returned, “and your efforts have been in vain. Your scurrilous need to survive is of no virtue here, and Heaven will never have room for the likes of you. Be gone from my sight at once."

  The stranger then vanished with a similar punch of air. Where? I could not say. "Magic," I muttered, incredulous.

  "Not magic," replied the old man, “simply a potent combination of Faraday and Maxwell. Force and waves, Mr. Fox — science."

  The extravagantly dressed figure paused with a hint of regret before settling that cocked hat on top of his white hair. "I can only apologize," he sighed. "What you have just witnessed is an unfortunately frequent occurrence. Those who do not deserve Heaven can still find themselves on its doorstep. Come forward, Mr. Fox. As your life support said, there is nothing to fear."

  Despite his assurances and pleasant demeanor, I could not help but be afraid. My arms and legs went to jelly, and as I approached, a familiar face appeared from behind his scrawny legs.

  "You wanted me to shut up," said Missy, hurt.

  "I didn't say that."

  "Not out loud, but you thought it!"

  "I’m sorry," I said, stooping down, "but then you already know it. I called for your help back there. Thought you were supposed to be my guardian, protector, thingamajig?"

  "Life support," she said, gliding upward, "and you weren't in any danger!"

  Missy changed her mind after inspecting the various teeth marks impressing my body. I accepted her apology repeatedly before she calmed down. Then, no matter how inappropriate, I felt it only good manners to offer this man my handshake. "Won't you call me Danny?"