Hell in a Dry Place

[Junkenstein]

This is truly fucking excellent. MORE and FASTER please.

[Doktor Howl]

Edited to remove copyrighted names.

Story will continue.

[LMNO]

 

[Doktor Howl]

Part 5

January 21st is a very special day in Hell, sort of a New Years holiday.  On that day, all the dead rise...Not as zombies or anything, mind you.  They all just wake up in their beds that morning, as if nothing had ever happened to them.  People waking up in this manner are disturbed for a short period of time, and it's considered polite to leave them alone until they shake it off.  They never remember any details of their time in death, it is as if that time never existed...One moment they're being killed, etc, the next they're waking up to their alarm clock.

What can I say?   It's Hell.  You don't get out that easily.  So far, Ivan and I had managed to avoid this.

And the 21st of January was coming up fast.  Ivan and I usually stay drink from the night of the 20th until we pass out, so we don't have to listen to the screaming of the newly-risen.  I can't blame them, I just don't want to hear it; it's creepy.

So on the 19th, we were trundling our load of goodies out from the liquor store, when I noticed a sticky note on the dash of my car.  Inside my locked car.  I pointed this out to Ivan.

"Perhaps", he replied, "They've come for you at last, and there's a bomb in the car."

"Good thinking.  Save the booze."  Ivan pushed the cart over to the other side of the parking lot.  I opened the car and got in.  No kaboom.  I grabbed the note.

"It's on the 3rd floor!  That's where it happened!"

I drove over and picked up Ivan, and we loaded the booze.  I showed Ivan the note.

"This means something, Tovarish."

"Yeah?  What?"

"It means you are being left notes by a crazy person, Frank."

"You bastard!"  I burst out laughing.

We drove back to the house, and unloaded the booze.  I turned the radio on, and lighted a cigar, waiting to hear the latest installment of The Green Hornet.  I love that show, and it's no wonder that it's stayed in circulation this many years.

But the Green Hornet didn't come on.  Instead, as the tubes in the radio warmed up, I heard a scratchy recording of some religious show.

"...And that's the TRUTH, friends!  That's why everyone who goes to Tucson never comes back!  It's the prototype of hell!  God's blueprint, a working model for something larger he built somewhere else!  That's why all that weird stuff happens on the border of the zone!  It's the devil trying to get out!  He uses people to..."

I turned the dial.  Another freak trying to explain why he's in hell.  Boring.  The channel I selected should have been the football game.  Again, it wasn't.  This time, it was Man Next.

"Frank!  You and Ivan have to get out of that house!  Right now!  Meet me at..."

The house exploded.  Bits of the house, along with bits of Ivan and myself, decorated the landscape for probably a block in every direction.  And that's how we missed our New Years party.  We were decidedly unhappy about that, when we woke up two days later.

To be continued.

[LMNO]

This is getting downright weird.  No wonder I like it so much.

[Doktor Howl]

This is getting downright weird.  No wonder I like it so much.

Yep.  From hipsters to tube-driven radios playing The Green Hornet.

[Mesozoic Mister Nigel]

Whoa!  Awesome!

[Doktor Howl]

Part 6

I woke up screaming.  I believe I mentioned that happens.  I had vague memories, half-forgotten dreams, mostly of some distraught lady in a spacesuit earnestly trying to explain something to me...But she kept fading in and out of existence.  One part I remembered was her telling me something about a series of space stations placed in orbit in 1948.  Rubbish, we were still cleaning up the mess in Germany and Japan then...Well, dreams.  They don't have to make sense.

I got dressed and went out to the car.  Instead of my old Ford, there was a late model Hidashi Kami in the driveway.  I tried my key, and it worked.  Shrugging, I put it in gear, set the automatic pilot, and started thumbing through a report as the car drove me across town, while the cloud memory stereo played the songs it detected would fit my mood.  Ah, yes, a bit of Lady Gaga.

The report dealt with the latest problem we had in the fighter wing at Davis Monthan.  I was confused for a moment.  Didn't I work in an energy company?  No, no...Defense contractor.  That's right.  Anyway, they had this hotshot pilot, Marie somethingunpronounceable.  Arguably the finest fighter pilot that ever lived, better than Frank Luke or the Red Baron.  Problem:  She refused - threatened to resign her commission, in fact - to fly during the daytime.

I picked Ivan up at the coffee shop, and handed him the report while the car drove us to the Air Force Base.  We had just turned onto Golf Links Road when we saw her standing on the side of the road, looking impatient.  Not the pilot, I mean, but Man Next.  I pulled over and she got in.

"What now, Ma'am?"  I asked.

"Now you keep going where you were going, if you please."

"You're the boss."

"I am?"

"Well, yeah.  An angel in Hell is pretty much gonna call the shots, the way I see it."  Ivan just smiled, still reading the report.

"Wait.  You guys seriously think you're in Hell?"

"What else could this be but Hell?"

"There's a number of other things it could be, Frank.  For one thing..."

She stopped talking as we pulled up to the gate.  As I expected, the guard didn't even look at her.  He examined Ivan's and my credentials, then allowed us to drive on.

"This is a very sad case", Ivan said, with his nose buried in the report.  "A fine talent, and they are about to cashier her for her quirk."

"Well, that's up to us to determine, isn't it?"

"Well", Ivan responded, "It is fairly important that we not allow actual crazy people to fly around in fighter planes.  But I shall give her a fair hearing.  But that's not what's really on my ass right now."

"So, what's bugging you?"

"Our friend in the back seat.  She knew we were about to be killed.  How?"

"Simple, really", said Man Next, "You are helping me.  There are those who wish me to fail.  Anyway, here we are."

We left the car to park itself, and went into the headquarters of the unit to which this Marie woman belonged.  We were greeted by a major.

"You guys aren't going to ground her, are you?  She's the best I've ever seen."

"Now, now, Major, you know we can't talk about this."

The major led us to a smallish conference room.  Sitting at the table was a pretty young female officer with pilot's wings on her uniform.

"Good day, Marie.  I am Ivan, this is Frank.  We are your case officers.  Our associate here is Man Next - don't ask - who is here in an advisory capacity."

The young lady looked at us nervously.

"We aren't here to crucify you", I said, "We simply need to understand what is going on?  Why will you only fly at night time?"

The young lady stared at the table.

"I hate to sound harsh", said Man Next, "But if you DON'T tell us what's wrong, you will never fly again.  If you DO tell us what's wrong, you may very well go on to a very long career flying the F-28 fighters you love so much."


"It's him", Marie replied, beginning to cry.

"Him, who?  Is someone giving you a problem?" asked Ivan.

"No, no.  It's my boyfriend.  He's in the air force, too, and he's stationed here.  So I can't fly in the daytime."

"Why on Earth not?"

"Because if I fly in the daytime, he will see me flying.  And I might make a mistake or something, and then I won't be perfect for him."

"He demands you to be perfect?"  I asked.

"No.  No, he keeps telling me I'm already perfect, that he'd love me no matter what."

"Then what is the problem?", Man Next asked.

"I love him.  I have to be perfect for him.  But I'm not perfect.  I'm damn good, I know that, but I'm not perfect.  And if he sees me fly I won't be perfect for him.  He says none of that matters, but it does.  To me."

"I see.  You may now return to your duties.  We shall return later today to talk to you and your commander."

The young officer left the conference room with tears running down her face.  I imagine she was thinking that her career was over.  And maybe it was.

Man Next looked at her watch.  "Guys, I have to go.  But I'm going to say this much...If she's not seriously mentally ill, don't ground her for being in love."

We nodded.  Man Next walked out of the room...Ivan and I looked at each other, and ran for the door.  Sure enough, there was no sign of Man Next in the entire length of the corridor.

"If we are going to ground her, perhaps we should also ground ourselves, no?", Ivan laughed.

"Yeah, this is pretty weird."

We summoned the car, and drove across to the logistics hangars.  Walking into the hanger, we stopped at a desk manned by a truly beautiful young lady.  She looked like Nina Simone with the build of Jayne Mansfield.  Ah, to be 25 years younger.

"We are looking for Captain Mancini."

"Just one second, sir, and I'll get him."  Funny, she didn't say she'd see if he was available.  Word must have gotten around.  A few seconds later, Captain Mancini came into the room.

"I am Frank, Captain, and this is my colleague Ivan.  Could we perhaps have a word in private with you, say at the nearest smoking area?"

"Yeah, sure.  Sure.  I know what this is all about.  You're going to ground Marie."

"Not so hasty, Captain.  We have to decide that, yet...But we need straight answers from you."

We arrived at the smoking area.  Two airmen were there, finishing their smokes.  The Captain looked at them and jerked a thumb over his shoulder.  "Screw."  They left.

"Now", he said, "What can I tell you?"

"Tell us about Marie."

"Marie is the finest pilot I've ever even heard of.  Ever.  She belongs in the air."

"We know this part.  Tell us of Marie the person, not Marie the pilot."

The Captain looked glum.  "She's a mess."

"Explain."

"Well, we're in love.  Really in love.  She feels she has to be perfect, or I won't love her or something."

"Is that true?"

"No, of course not.  It's crap.  I'd love her no matter what."

"But she doesn't believe this."

"She's terrified, I can tell you that much.  She calls it 'dancing', you know."

"What?"

"Flying practice or actual combat missions.  She calls it dancing.  It's what she loves.  I mean, besides me."

"And she feels that she has to be a perfect 'dancer' for you, and a perfect girlfriend to you, for the sake of the 'dance floor'."

"Exactly.  Precisely.  You can't ground her for that, can you?"

"No, Captain", I said, "I don't think we can.  It wouldn't be right...BUT", I said, as a look of profound relief crossed his face, "Some accomodation must be made.  This requires thought."

We got back in the car and headed back to the fighter wing.  Walking inside, we asked to see the commanding officer, Squadron Leader Horst.

"So", said Horst, frowning, "You're here to ground Marie."

"No."

"What?"  He seemed schocked.

"No.  She is by all accounts a genius at her profession.  She has a psychological issue that we do not find dangerous at this point.  I request and require that you allow her to fly again - at night, and only at night - until we conclude our investigation."

"Well, boys", the Squadron Leader said with a wide smile, "I think we can work something out."

We walked back out to the car, and headed downtown.  It was time for a drink, to enjoy while we hashed this out.  We pulled into the Meetrack, and headed inside.

Something was wrong.  The entire inside of the building was dusty, and a woman in a spacesuit - the woman from my dream - was standing beside the bar.

"You have to understand", she said through her speakers, "The explosion from the wreck went both ways."

"What, the explosion that killed us?"

"No!  No!  THE explosion.  It went forwards and back, it was an acci..."

She was gone.  The bar looked normal again, and Scoob, the bartender, was looking at us like we were ghosts.

"What the hell!"  He hollered...Then, quieter, "You guys just appeared."

"We are like unto the ninjas of old", said Ivan, "We come and go as we please, and none see us."

"This requires bourbon", I added, "Bourbon is stealth fuel.  Don't question it."

We sat down to talk, but mostly we got drunk.  It was all too weird, even for Hell.

But it was going to get a whole lot weirder.

To be continued.

[Mesozoic Mister Nigel]

OH MY GOD I LOVE THIS

The woman in the spacesuit... goddamn CHILLS.

[Doktor Howl]

OH MY GOD I LOVE THIS

The woman in the spacesuit... goddamn CHILLS.

I kinda fell in love with Marie while I was writing this.

[Cainad (dec.)]

Woah.

Forwards and back...

[LMNO]

You're doing it again, Dok.
And I couldn't be happier.

[Doktor Howl]

You're doing it again, Dok.
And I couldn't be happier.

I'm enjoying the crap out of it.

And again, bonus points to whomever can figure out what the inspiration for Marie and her problem was.

[Anna Mae Bollocks]

You're doing it again, Dok.
And I couldn't be happier.

I'm enjoying the crap out of it.

And again, bonus points to whomever can figure out what the inspiration for Marie and her problem was.

No clue, so no bonus points for me. Curious, but KEEP THIS GOING!

[Nurse Enabler]

I like weird. Love the story.