Death Co. Re-Write IV (4)

4. Torture Time Happy Fun World (TTHFW)

     It only took a minute for John and Joe to smother themselves in the red dirt, and looking down at his own hands, John thought it actually looked pretty convincing. It was a stroke of luck that there was no foot traffic going into the park, as they would have been spotted in a heartbeat. “Well, I guess it’s time to see if this is going to work. How do I look?”

     “Absolutely demonic,” Joe exclaimed like a theatre manager after putting together the perfect set piece.

     “Then there’s no time to waste.” They began to walk toward the large wooden gate, and under the bust of Lucifer. The gate was followed by a long dirt tunnel filled with earthen carvings of demons in various states of torturous unrest. As they neared the end, John spotted a sign that said Here you leave today and enter the world of pain and misery. One of the park’s designers had been a fired designer for the Disneyland park, and had carried his grudge to the grave. He was the lead artist for most of TTHFW’s attractions, and the park’s overall layout. The similarities were clear to the eye, but most were too focused on the carnage within to notice.

     Music began to play at the end of the tunnel, and John and Joe emerged into bright lights. The scene was so disconcerting that at first John was not exactly sure what he was looking at. Heavy metal music played over the loudspeakers at an almost deafening volume, and the opening promenade was full of crooked buildings, centered around a square where a set of eight guillotines had been erected. This set piece was complemented by another set of eight gallows positioned symmetrically around a fountain of blood.

     The architecture was beautiful, but so much happening at once overloaded John’s brain. Demons swung from zip lines carrying souvenir machete’s cutting sinners to ribbons. On one rooftop there stood a massive muscular winged demon, playing the electric guitar and shooting fire from a device on his back. The sky filled with swirling black smoke, where wraiths ducked in and out occasionally to drop what looked like body parts onto the street below.

     The tops of every building had been sharpened to points so as to skewer anything that might have fallen. Dark windows hung open with shutters hanging by loosened screws. Each door looked as though it had been kicked in multiple times, and sitting in a corner was a hell hound munching on what might have been a man’s head. “Really makes the rest of Hell seem a little lack luster doesn’t it?” John was amazed by the sheer amount of work it took to create such an image, and in a way appreciated the attention to detail.

     Joe stood perfectly still, mouth agape. A demon in a referee’s outfit stepped out of a ticket booth and walked over to the pair of them. Shit, we’re caught, the idiot gave us away. Joe did not seem to notice, and had his vision fixed upon a pristine mountain in the distance which had been capped with a snowy peak of frozen entrails. Vendors would fly up on leathery wings to retrieve the frozen goodies for the stands that were set up below. From within the mountain a yeti bellowed.

     “Joe shut your mouth, we’ve got company.” The demon was stalking over to them, looking very stern. John looked around quickly and spotted a souvenir machete stand with a pen of the deceased waiting to be used for slaughter. “Joe, you need to act the part.” Joe snapped out of it and saw the demon marching their way.

     He stepped up next to them and regarded them with fiery eyes. “First time?” He asked gruffly.

     “Uh, yes,” said Joe.

     “Alright come with me,” the demon replied and grabbed Joe by the hand. John was tempted to walk the other way and leave Joe for dead, but followed out of sympathy. They waled over to the ticket taker’s booth where the demon opened a drawer beneath the counter.

     Couldn’t even make it for a minute before we got caught. Well it looks like this is the end. So much for empathy. I knew it was a crock of shit. The demon rooted around in the drawer, grumbling to himself. Joe shot a pained look at John, asking for some sort of help, but John just shrugged and waited for the demon to finish his business. No point now, he thought, wondering what kind of hell they would be placed into. Perhaps being tortured here wouldn’t be so bad. He had thought this about several forms of torture, but each time had been dreadfully mistaken.

     “Ah there it is,” said the demon, and pulled out a gaudy red button from the drawer. It read It’s my first time! “Take that over to the machete stand and they’ll give you each one for free. Make sure not to lose the button. It’s good for discounts around the park,” the demon smiled and added “Have a nice day.” The door to the ticket booth slammed and Joe pinned the button to his tie-dye shirt.

     “We’re not actually going to use this are we?” Joe seemed uncertain at the idea of being in a place dedicated to murder and mayhem.

     “When in Rome,” John said, trying to stifle a laugh at the green shade Joe had turned. “We need to blend in. What better way than with a little bit of mischief?” His eyes glinted in the red light, giving Joe a glimpse of what he believed to be the inner demon. John had of course been kidding, although some part of him thought that being a demon wouldn’t have been so bad.

     “I don’t think I could kill anybody.”

     John rolled his eyes and let out a sarcastic sigh. “Alright fine, no killing, but we’re definitely carrying those around.” He gestured to the machetes lying in the bin. “They’ll help us blend in, and I’ve never been one to pass up a free souvenir.”

     “Fine,” said Joe. They walked over to the booth and claimed their free machetes. The booth attendant gave them a strange look when they turned down the free victim, but John explained that their thrill was in “The Hunt”. This seemed to assuage the awkwardness, and so they continued down the thoroughfare without further incident.

     “Alright, we got in, what’s the plan now?” Joe continued to shift from side to side in uncomfortable twitches. There seemed to be something on every corner to jump at.

     “Well I read up a little bit about this place on my last trip. On one end there should be a bus depot where we can catch a ride. One of the drivers is bound to know how to get to Lucifer’s house.” John did not know if there was any truth to the statement, but it felt like a good thing to say at the time. The truth was he was hoping dearly for another sign to illuminate his path in bright, bold letters.

     John spotted a map stand and grabbed one of the faded canvasses they sold there. The stand itself looked like it had been shut down for years. Demons don’t generally need a roadmap for how or where to torture people. John made a mental note to drop the map as soon as he had studied it. From a distant shop syncopated Calypso music played, sending unnerving vibes jaunting through the air like crooked arrows from drunken bows. The whole sound made John dizzy and sick to his stomach. He had hated island music before, and when contrasted against the backdrop of carnage, and played badly, John could not cope.

     The map was laid out in concentric circles to model the rings of Hell in Dante’s inferno. Each circle followed a theme, for nine in total. The bus depot was located on the other side of the park. The map noted that there was a transport train that left from a station next to the Laceration Log ride next to Murder Mountain (the large, gore covered peak that could be seen from all areas of the park.) They would then ride the train to Barbwire Bog, and follow the signs for the exit.

     “Looks like a simple path. We better keep moving. Who knows how long they’re going to believe this for?” Every step they took was watched by creepy specters peering out of the shop windows, or demons half passed out in the gutter from a rage-fueled hangover. Up ahead the main street ended and then gave way to the first of the nine circles. This was known as Cauterization Canyon (much like everyone else, the designers of Hell loved alliteration.)

     “Alright, I’ll follow you. Where are we headed?”

     “Just through this canyon, and that will take us to the log ride, and then we’re home free.” John felt like he was planning one of his few childhood vacations once again. They had always come rarely, and when they did, he wanted to maximize every moment of them. Itineraries were one thing he had retained from his childhood, and part of the reason he had become such a strict adherer to rules (semantically at least.) John also left out the subtitles of the park areas, hoping to keep Joe calm, and not cause any undue disturbance.

     “Sounds simple enough. How bad can it be?” As Joe said this a demon came flying out of a saloon door, kicked by an even larger demon spitting expletives in a tongue that neither of the men were familiar with. Theme park altercations were common, and almost considered a pastime. Even so, John and Joe took wide steps around the growing mosh pit and scurried toward the end of the street.

     The shops gave way to a long red rock canyon. Joe watched as a demon scampered in, excited by the attractions that lay beyond. A cannon the size of a small SUV emerged from one of the walls, heated to a bright red, and then incinerated the demon on sight. Joe looked up to the top of a canyon and saw the smoldering sign that indicated its name “Cauterization Canyon: Population 1.” As the demon disintegrated, the ‘1’ fell to the ground in a lazy flutter, leaving a zero behind in its place.