Valor's Inferno

This was it. This is what I had worked up to.

I had gone through every local known thug up to every suave, silver-tongued drug dealer, to CEO’s of companies, through known and famous Hitmen and Assasins. In these slums, I struck fear by turning the underbelly upside down, killing anybody involved, anybody who I couldn’t exort, anybody who tried to kill me.

The ones that cooperated finally did with torture, they screamed and tried to wriggle away in pain until I got it out of them- Ideas of who’s idea was it, who was their superior, in other words, who was higher up the ladder. The information began to build and build as I found new ways to scare them. Hanging them off of buildings, threatening their friends, their family, sometimes dousing them in gasoline. All of this was for one person, all I needed was one person to end all of this.

My Son.

Anthony was a young boy with eyes the color of skies I used to watch when I was his age.He had the same personality as the younger me too, wanted to rather play outside rather than keep up with the latest technology. A deep love for his mother, a respect and longing to be more like his father. He barely argued, barely put up much of a struggle, always remained happy. I missed him dearly and could still remember his blue and white striped shirt when they took him. The half chocolate/half strawberry ice cream cone that fell out of his hand when they grabbed him. The three ants on the sidewalk traveling together when I fell, chasing the car that took him. The tread of the wheel’s, screeching off, you remember so distinctly moments like that. And they haven’t left for the 29 days I’ve been doing this manhunt, looking for my son.

But now, I can finally say, this is it.

“Look away” I told my son. I had his captor by his throat, the one who had asked for the ransom. I wanted to see him die, I wanted to see him die by my bare hands. My soon curled in a ball, in trauma, it was something I both regretted seeing but couldn’t by being motivated to grip the captor’s neck tighter. As he almost went limp, I felt it, the release of my anguish, my anger, I had saved my son.

A crash. A man comes in with a sub machine gun, dropping the body, I pulled my pistol from my hip. He fires, hitting me with each of the multiple shots. But before he could empty his clip, I let go a shot of my own, hitting him in his head. He fell, dead instantly. Would neighbors here in this large apartment? No it was abandoned, now the workings of the Slumlord I had just killed. I was fine in that department, but as I looked down, my body stood as a different case. One, two…seven eight nine holes in my body. Anthony looked up at me now, tears in his eyes. I was just glad to see him. I smiled.” Buddy, don’t worry, I’m fine” I grabbed him, throwing him over my shoulder and ran.

My body was growing week and I was on the seventh floor. Six more flights of stairs, I continued running. I love you I continued saying and Anthony returned with a stuffed nose and a sadness caught in his throat. “I- I lub yew too” He answered congested. I smiled for the first time since he was kidnapped. “I miss you” I told him.

Ground floor and I had finally made it. Being in New York, I ran outside to heavy rain and hailed a taxi. “Take him to Spooner street” I said handing the driver a wad of cash and Anthony some too. “When you get home, tell mommy I love her, okay Anthony?” His eyes grew wide and so did the driver. Both voices clashed, the driver asking if I needed medical attention and Anthony asking why I wasn’t coming. “Don’t worry” I directed towards the both of them. “You just drive. Anthony, I love you.” I slammed the door and the cab left, Anthony watching me. I knew he was safe now. Another smile, but this time, tears too. They ran down my face as I felt victory, and a great happiness in my son’s well being. I collapsed to the ground, smiling with my clothes dampened, I actually felt warm, and at first I though that my soul was flying up into the sky.

And then I realized that it was.

…

I woke up at a desk, me in one chair in the other facing me was a man I didn’t know, but I quickly gathered. “You’re…”

“Yes Daniel, I’m God.”

I remained stunned, watching his figure, he looked familiar to me. “Why do you look like-“

“Everybody perceives me differently, there is no right answer or no wrong answer, you yourself view me as the first manager who had ever given you a job interview.”

I still stood a bit dazzled.

“Furthermore, Daniel let’s talk about your actions.”

A pinch first grabbed at my stomach and then everywhere. Anxiety. “Sir, you have to understand, that man had taken my son.”

“And what where your grounds for torturing the other men.”

“…”

“What about their families, their loved ones, what about how much stress and trauma they have received. Furthermore could you not have gotten in contact with the police, could you have reached out for any other type of help?”

“…”

“I make humans and with them I create several routes for them to go, but I am not the one who makes your decisions, and for yours,you have put a lot of men where you are right now. Is there anything else you could say to justify your actions in your mind?”

“I just wanted my son.”

“And unfortunately you lived in a very violent culture, but I can’t make that an excuse for you. I hope you understand, son, I’m going to have to send you into hell.”

Fear. Fear was the only thing on my mind.

“You will be able to return one day, but I will not tell you then. Until then, you must face repayment for your sins. After you have however, you will find yourself in Heaven where you can view your family. I’m sorry this has to be done, but truly, my son, you have sinned. Is there anything else you would like to say?”

I nodded, first apologized. Then I asked what religion’s Hell it would be.

He told me all things are forgiven with time and that all of the religions made by man were wrong. Their concept was correct, their efforts are noted and credited, but they truly could not fathom the reality of Heaven and Hell.

Those were the last words before he led me to a door, saw me off, and left me there. Surprisingly no fire, just a decayed city. However in a distance I heard screeching from a pack of people. Half were demons and the other half were the men I killed, scarred from their own personal hell, they sought after me for revenge for where I had brought them. So I ran. It has been my punishment ever since. Honestly, I could say it’s the worse thing I have ever experienced and must experience from day to day, running for my life and hiding, sometimes even wishing they caught me so we could get it over with, I knew it would never happen. The anxiety was my punishment, the thought, the fact that I was reconsidering things was what God wanted me to take from this. When I would be saved, I didn’t know, but remained comforted by the fact that right now, on a different plane of life, my son lay safely in his bed.