The 9th Fortress Read online

  His eyes were warm as he took hold, and after a vigorous shake, he reached into his waistcoat to remove a silver flask.

  “Drink," he said, passing it to me. Holding no more than two swallows, Missy persuaded me to down the contents. The liquid had no scent, and was thick and flavorless over my tongue.

  "What is it?" I asked, experiencing a tickle come over my skin, followed by the weaving of new flesh over my wounds.

  "A strict compound of chemicals," said the man, enjoying my wonder. "And better for you than all the vegetables in the world."

  "Who are you?" I hissed, dropping the flask and recoiling. There were no bite marks left on my hands or face, and no scars either.

  "He is Sir Isaac Newton," said Missy, pushing me back to him. "This is the honor of my life, sir!"

  "And what an honor it is to meet you!" he replied. “The both of you!”

  My life support hid her blushing behind my leg, and although I appreciated this man's fine appearance and help, my still-scattered brain did not yet recognize the name.

  "Daniel this man is a genius!" proclaimed Missy. "He forged the laws of gravity in his lifetime, and today continues to push the boundaries of physics. Sir Isaac, tell Daniel what happened before the big bang!”

  “I don’t think he’s interested, Missy.”

  I wasn’t. The only thing that interested me was what this apparently prestigious scientist wanted with me. Moreover, what did I do to deserve his notice?

  The Englishman bent forward to search into my head, as if looking directly at a small piece of personal information. He frowned at his findings. "I am sorry you had to suffer so much. Your passing was unpleasant."

  "Didn't feel a thing," I lied, the mere mention making me uncomfortable.

  Sir Isaac Newton could not have failed to notice my distress, but thankfully, he never drew attention to it.

  "That feeling won’t ever leave you," Missy added, squeezing my fingers a little bit firmer. "You will never forget. It is the way…of things."

  "It’s okay." I said. "I think…it can be controlled. Maybe"

  Getting a grip of my emotions, I gazed back at the elderly scientist. "Missy tells me you've been reading my ledger of life? Is that true?"

  "Correct. I assigned myself to read your ledger, and it makes for interesting reading. Yes," he considered, rubbing his chin, "yours is a tale of two lives, Danny. One good and decent and promising — very promising — everything one would want in a friend, husband, or father."

  "And the other?" I asked, wary.

  "A mixed bag, I’m afraid. A very mixed bag indeed, and you will be judged by all of it."

  Missy was fidgety at my knee, keen to interrupt on my behalf.

  "Under normal circumstances,” Newton added, “there would be only one course of action for such an uneven life, such a disproportional path."

  I broadened out my shoulders and felt brave for a nanosecond. "So…What are you waiting for? Get it over with."

  Missy swallowed so hard that I could hear her gulp. Scared for me, she still trusted that Newton had read my ledger and knew of all my qualities, the ones I couldn't remember.

  "Danny," he started slowly, as if mine was his most important appointment; "things are never as simple as up or down, black and white. There are grey areas in all walks of life. Here too."

  Missy raised an eager hand. "I filled him in there, sir! My Daniel is well informed on our judicial system."

  "I’m not entirely convinced," he replied, amused.

  "She has told me a little," I said. "To be honest, it came at me pretty fast."

  "Then let me fully explain. Pray, get off your feet."

  He guided my eye toward two large blocks of marble that appeared out of nothing and nowhere.

  "Are you going to fly around me like a bumblebee, too?" I asked, taking his seat.

  "No wings," he snickered. "They give me allergies anyhow, puffy eyes, runny nose, the lot. Besides, I prefer using my legs. Walking is the very best way to clear the mind, and mine has a lot of clutter these days."

  He shuffled toward the marble and sat. "My that's better! Pray, give me a nudge if I prattle on or nod off. Colleagues often point out this habit I have of dozing through lectures, meetings, and so on, but I argue I'd hardly be asleep if they were of any great consequence, or any colleagues worth impressing."

  "And am I…an important meeting?" I asked. "Worth impressing?"

  "I don’t waste my time on just anyone, Danny. Take a breath!" he added, taking his own. "It may appear so at first, but this afterlife is not a complicated place. Daunting certainly, but not complicated. The Waiting Plain around you is the first stop on a continuing journey, an epic course of evolution, as Darwin would say. That sweet soul,” he smiled, “never have I met a man so precious about his pigeons, or so obsessed with backgammon! He once challenged me to a race of birds, you know…"

  "Sir Isaac?" said Missy, beckoning him to stay on subject. "If you please?"

  "Right," he agreed, with a dithering nod. "Good souls, Daniel, like your child Kathy, progress directly to the realm above us. Some call it Heaven, Elysium, Valhalla, or Olympus; I call it home. Others meanwhile, more questionable others, go below to the Distinct Earth, whilst the wicked rest are dragged…deeper still."

  "The distinct what?"

  "It is the grey," he answered me, wearing a pitiful expression. "Once a realm of freedom and choice, but no longer, for evil has taken what liberty they had away."

  "Evil?" I pried, creeping closer.

  “For another time,” said a hesitant scientist. "Right now, I want to talk about the Distinct Earth itself, a diverse dominion full of human and alien kind. You have just come from the natural world, Danny. The Distinct Earth is an unnatural one."

  "A sort of purgatory," Missy remarked. "For souls to see out their times. It can be as good or as bad as you make it."

  "And is that where I’m going? To this Distinct Earth?"

  Blank faced, Sir Isaac Newton nodded. "You will see the Distinct Earth. That I am certain of."

  "What?!” gasped Missy, in utter disbelief. “Didn't you read his ledger? Didn't you see his noble heart?"

  "I read it," he returned, "and I saw a noble heart gone astray! Your opinion Missy, although important, is a biased one, having no bearing on this judgment, so pray, let me finish it. Daniel will see the Distinct Earth, but he will not be sentenced there."

  Missy jerked back as if electrocuted. “If not Heaven,” she said, trembling. "If not the Distinct Earth…You can't mean?"

  "Not me," he returned, gesticulating for calm, “but our Lord. That will, for all its profound mystery, has something special to ask of your Daniel, a task. I am here because I've an invested interest in that task’s success."

  Missy’s fear disturbed me. Shouldn't my custodian, my life support, know everything?

  "Go on," I urged. "What sort of task? Tell me, please?"

  Missy clutched my arm, hanging most of her weight on the elbow while Sir Isaac Newton's weary voice took on a sharper, keener edge. "There is one soul," he husked, "a soul trapped and tortured and lost to us. God requests that you liberate it. You, Danny." He then left a final, lingering pause for Missy and me to register his crazy information.

  "Liberate?" I asked. "How? Where on Earth?"

  "Not Earth," he said, with a creased forehead. "There is one notorious realm under the Distinct Earth, a vast and perilous place."

  "Hell," gulped Missy again, looking ill. Newton's subtle blink confirmed it.

  "One word for it,” he said. “Hell is not a mythical place simply found in Dante or the Bible; it is very real. Whereas Heaven is a cultural realm of learning, creativity, and forward thinking, Hell is a thoughtless abyss, a twisted, everlasting pit of stagnation. Only the worst go there, and they do so to rot. Your journey will be to its primary prison, the 9th Fortress. There, this individual is held captive, and that deep and savage road you must travel. Recover that soul from the Fortress and return to th
e Waiting Plain. That is your task…"

  Missy quivered beside me, and wings coming to a halt, she touched heavily on the floor.

  "The 9th Fortress," she whimpered. "You can’t send him there. Such a thing has never been attempted. Not once! Not ever! It will shatter him! Shatter him to pieces!"

  Sir Isaac Newton stood at once from his marble resting place. "Our Lord has asked it of him,” he said, diplomatically. “He has a stain on his soul that cannot be glossed over, Missy. It brands your Daniel, and he will never be embraced past our gates wearing it."

  "You never did read his ledger, did you?” she wept. "How could you? I know everything about this man, and I tell you he is righteous, humble, and more than worthy! What did he do that was so awful? So unforgivable?"

  "Did he not go there to commit murder?" Newton inquired. "Danny purchased the gun and took his time loading each bullet. To kill was certainly his intention! Do you find such an act so forgivable, angel?"

  His argument struck my life support dumb. She could not deny it, and I could not defend it, but right now, I preferred not to think of the stains on my character, but of the only good I ever created, Kathy. With her strength still coursing through me, I leapt from the stone, facing Sir Isaac Newton and covering Missy with my back. "I'll do it. Anything you want!"

  The feelings of my life support penetrated me suddenly, and I experienced our special connection for the very first time. Although well over a century old, that little angel girl was as prone to the emotions of love as anyone. Her pain sat heavily in my chest, and I could almost hear her heartbreak at the next thought in my mind, and the question now leaving my lips: "Tell me more about the 9th Fortress?"

  4. A Man of Experience

  Sir Isaac Newton’s words were meaningless. Granted, I understood the gravity of the situation, but the scale of the task and its consequences would not hit me until much, much later.

  My eagerness did not please my life support, and whenever I expected Missy to unleash her temper, the stoic scientist raised a considerate hand, and the little girl resisted her urges. After acknowledging my courage for daring to inquire, the elderly man asked Missy to seat herself next to me.

  "Hear me," he began, with a strict stare. "The 9th Fortress…is a crooked tooth growing rotten from the gums of Hell. You will see the structure from a hundred miles away, and you will hear its lamenting prisoners from a thousand."

  He continued down this vein until my mind’s eye could see the facility in all its hostile glory. Lightning could not crack its rock, and thunder forever trembled the earth below, almost as if the structure could not bear the weight of sin it bore. I watched crows peck the eyes from prisoners seeking a rare glimpse of light; I witnessed bodies leap from its tallest spire and mince down the rugged sides; I heard the screaming sinners burning in private ovens and the drowning dozens in the boiling moat. Newton spared no gruesome detail.

  "Each cell delivers a unique form of punishment to its prisoner," he added, "and the greater one’s crime, the more intolerable one’s existence. Then, there is the warden, a man of some malevolence; notorious in his time and untouchable in ours, he has a swordsman made of solid bronze that protects him round the clock. You will first proceed… "

  As expected, Missy's fury could not be contained. "That’s if he even makes it to the prison! The Distinct Earth has its own dangers, as does the journey through Hell! Oceans of fire, deserts of plague, alien life forms, and agents of evil everywhere! It cannot be done!"

  "Please!" I begged, holding my pounding forehead. "You’re not helping!"

  "This prisoner must be important!" she bellowed back. "Tell me, who is it?"

  Newton remained unflappable. "Your emotion is quite understandable, Missy dear. After all, your love for this man is unconditional. You are deeply afraid for him, as well you should be."

  Stuttering and teary, my life support turned from us, concealing those emotions behind her hands.

  "I can only share the cell number," said Newton, hoping to see the cherub's face again. "Cell number 2020, and his or her identity must remain a mystery for the time being. It would be hazardous for Daniel to know more at this juncture. Yes, extremely."

  That incessant drone made conversation for the time being as I attempted to grasp at madness. The Waiting Plain was colder now, and the hairs on my arms prickled up like solders in attention. Was it really the cold? I strolled around the Plain between Sir Isaac Newton and Missy, slapping my cheeks and thinking things over. Distinct Earth…Hell…9th Fortress…bronze swordsman, and agents of evil?

  "It's not the cold," said Missy, sighing. "That's fear, Daniel. Finally, some sense from you."

  "Something confuses me,” I said, ignoring that churn in my stomach. "If I’m dead now, how can I die again?"

  The mellow-faced Englishman appeared relieved to be taking the subject away from the 9th Fortress, if only to avoid further upset to Missy. "A soul cannot die, Daniel, but the body can. Perish in the realms of the afterlife, and your light vacates the body, snatching the shelter of any form near it, be that a grain of dirt or a scuttling rat. This is known as the second death, and what a random and unenviable process it is. My best advice would be to take care of the body you have; it is the only one you have left. Do you understand me?

  I nodded. "Understood, and I appreciate your concern Missy, but this is something I have to do.”

  “Sir Isaac," I announced, facing him, "I will do what God has asked of me."

  Missy swooped to my face now, absolutely beside herself. "You naïve fool! Think you can take on the whole wide world, do you? You are so blind! So silly and ignorant! The logic you spoke of earlier is turned on its head the second you leave me! You know nothing of the peril that awaits, absolutely nothing at all. Do you understand me?!"

  "Calm yourself!" Newton pleaded. "This will do no good, angel, no good at all. Missy, this is a decision for Daniel to make, he needs advice from his support, not a lecture."

  The girl’s fury frittered away as soon as it had arrived, and she sobbed against my chest. Shocked to see so much passion for me, I stroked the fluffy feathers connected to her back.

  "Missy is correct," said Newton, "there is a great deal you have yet to learn. However the task is not an impossible one. True, you may never make it back here, so it is not a decision to be made lightly. Pray, consider your options. If you accept and bring prisoner 2020 to me, then you will rest with your daughter in peace. If not, then your case will go through the usual channels."

  Mouth dry, I choked for a moment. "Why me?" I asked, rather, I begged

  "Why do I get the honor of meeting you and having this chance? I'm a normal guy; there's nothing special here. I didn't save anyone's life or even do much with my own! I am greedy, selfish, and weak like everybody else! Why me?"

  Missy separated herself from my chest and dried her eyes. It was obvious to her what was so special about this soul, but she expected everyone else to see it.

  Sir Isaac Newton came closer to the both of us, wearing a confident grin.

  "Why not you?" he said. "If at first the idea does not sound absurd, then there is no hope for it. Whatever you think, Danny, no matter how insane this opportunity may seem today, tomorrow clear light will shine upon God's apparent madness. We are, all of us, standing on the shoulders of a giant. I sense a decision has been reached?"

  He was right. This was not a choice; it was my ticket. I could wait here in the plain, and be judged in full and proper time, but would that eventual verdict go my way? I couldn't risk it, and I definitely couldn't wait for it.

  "I talked to Kathy," said Newton suddenly, "shortly before arriving here. You have a bright girl there. Very bright indeed." His wise blue eyes became a cinema, flickering back wonderful images of Kathy’s mousy hair and shy smile, filling me up with equal measure of sadness and joy. "She hopes," he added with care, "that you have forgiven him. Do you know what this means?"

  My head became heavy all of a sudden, my brain disturb
ed by a deceased daughter's unexpected wish. "I know what that means," I mumbled back. "She wants me to forgive the man who killed her."

  "And do you?" he asked, intrigued.

  Like lingering vomit at the back of my mouth, my face contorted at the thought.

  "It's too soon," Missy answered for me.

  It was too soon, and the elderly man seemed to accept that. "She asked me to tell you one more thing." he said, and hungrily I gazed at him. "That she loves you very much."

  This was my fuel, confidence and determination in one sentence. Once again, I felt my life support's heartache, for she had lost me to the 9th Fortress.

  "When do I leave?" I asked. "Now? Right now? I’m ready."

  "First and foremost," said Newton, "you will need a guide. This is no journey one can take alone. You will need a man of experience!"

  "That’s right," said Missy, properly. "If he’s going, then I’ll be damned if he’s going alone. I doubt you will find a more suitable guide than you, Sir Isaac. This would ease my mind."

  His black hat bobbled as he chuckled. "I am a physicist, Missy, and a very old physicist! No, no, I have a far more suitable candidate in mind, a man extremely qualified for the job. A most exceptional human being." Sir Isaac Newton directed his long finger toward: "The samurai…"

  Slouched on another block of stone was a bulky Japanese man. Somewhere in his fifties, his hair was oily black with lightning streaks of grey, and a top knot held it all at the back. His face was scar-ridden and sour, with a pair of brows shrouding his eyes in perpetual shade, occasionally revealing the odd bead of twinkling white amongst pools of darkness. He brooded still in his position, resting a stubbly chin on his clenched fist. He was dressed in a heavy-looking red armor with solid vertical plates around the torso, and was armed with two deadly-looking swords: a long katana by his left leg, and a shorter, what I later discovered to be a wakizashi, thrust down the front of his waist belts. Missy and I examined this smoldering beast in wonderment, his presence eclipsing Newton’s. He was Caesar, he was Alexander, he was Samson and Hercules combined. The samurai knew he was being watched but remained placid on his rock; he was a granite statue, not acknowledging our presence, nor caring for it.