The Sin Hunter: Double or Nothing

A Story About Principles

"Okay, Mister Henderson, I have some wonderful news!" The doctor stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. In the chair beside a blank monitor and padded walls, someone's head slowly turned, facing the registered psychologist. "Well, Mr. Henderson, you're diagnosed and fully recovered. So we'll be sending you back to the city for a few months to see how you readjust before we let you out for good." The man nodded, his eyes reflecting a painful understanding of the rules and how just the verdict was. He was almost free, but not quite yet. Mr. Henderson slowly rose from his chair, preparing to greet his visitor. It was time to leave.

The sun never felt better on his face. The wind from his car driving through country roads felt blissful and free while Mr. Henderson lowered his window, driving across the rural state of Northern Dakota when he rolled his car slowly to the curb, inspecting a potential hitchhiker by the side of a field. The hitchhiker was relatively well dressed, as if they had just left a freshly tuned car, with combed, wavy orange hair, sparkling blue eyes and a leather jacket. They looked as if they had been walking for a while. Mr. Henderson slowed to a stop beside the person, parking the car with an arm hanging out of the window.

"Hi! Can I help you?" Mr. Henderson asked. It was the first time he had spoken to someone who wasn't dressed in all white and black in two years. The young fellow turned with a gap toothed grin, dropping his shoulders with his backpack on the dusty road. "Somethin' like that. I was walkin' 'long this road. My car broke down a few miles back." To demonstrate, the sandy haired young man gestured a weary, skin-deprived arm back down the road where Mr. Henderson had been driving. Turning to face the driver again, the young man spoke with a calm, casual tone. "If you could give me a ride to th' nearest gas station, I'd appreciate it much."

Mr. Henderson was cautious in the offer, recalling the warning he had been given by the doctors before leaving the ward. 'Be careful of his the world's changed since then, Mr. Henderson,' they had said. Nonetheless, Mr. Henderson opened the car door for the young man. "Hop in. I can take you to Sandy's." The young man slid into the car with his backpack, and the automobile rolled away down the rural country road. Mr. Henderson kept his hand on the steering wheel while the young man sighed, removing his backpack and tossing a pair of sunglasses over his eyes. In the reflection, a cool, watery gray of stone and dust reflected upon his skin.

"Thanks for helping a Demon out, sir. I appreciate it much, like I said." Mr. Henderson paused, the car slowing at a stoplight. "Did you refer to yourself as a Demon? You must be as looney as me!" But the young man laughed, tapping his hand on the dashboard when the light above flickered green, and the car rolled forward once again. "I picked a good fella to scoop me up. You've got heart and soul, sir. I admire that in someone who isn't Dead or a fellow Demon." Mr. Henderson nodded, swinging to the left past a sunny view of the mountains and a gas station that had been closed since ages ago. His hand beaded with sweat from the broken AC unit in the old convertible.

"You said you're a Demon?" Mr. Henderson asked. The young man nodded, swishing a piece of straw from the fields behind them around his gapped teeth. "Darn tootin'! The name's Graveler. 'Round my place, folks know me as a rocky, golem kinda Demon." Mr. Henderson nodded, turning right around a curb ensnaring the mountain range. Trees flashed in the shade of the sun as the convertible blew cool air past the two men. "What a day to be let out of the nut house. First thing I know, and I'm talking to a Demon." Mr. Henderson gestured one hand behind him, adjusting well to the life he was preparing to enter. New credentials, new license, new face.

"There's a few mints in the glovebox. Courtesy of the doctors at the ward." Graveler grinned, digging into the box with a hand holding three mints. Popping the icy cool blocks into his mouth, Graveler nodded, sucking on the cubes. "Thanks for that. Stone and heat don't mix too well. It's nice having a ride through the country." Mr. Henderson nodded, keeping his hands on the wheel. "How long have you been in town?" He asked the Demon. Graveler shifted a pale hand out of the window, chuckling. "Could be days, could be weeks. Probably months though.

"Y'see, Henderson," the Demon motioned with a veiled hand beneath his sleeve, "age works a mite different with us Demon folk. We got strange qualities of life, weird perspectives on how t' live life good an' proper." Mr. Henderson nodded along, his glasses reflecting the edge of a gas station quickly approaching. The smooth brown convertible slid into a spot beside a gas pump, the shade reflecting in the steaming hot cover of the vehicle. Mr. Henderson kicked back, proud of himself for handling his first day out so well while Graveler stepped out of the car, dusting off his sleeves. "Whew! Thanks for giving a guy a ride. I needed that."

Mr. Henderson shrugged, waving his hand before asking the burning question on his mind. "Hey. Why did you ride along with me?" The Demon in disguise paused, turning slowly. His face gave way briefly to a warped, cracked stone texture with sand pouring through the cracks of the chiseled rock. "Y'know, that's a good question, Henderson." The two stood for a moment in silence while Graveler pulled a chip from his pocket, flicking it to Mr. Henderson. The man caught the chip, inspecting the gift. It was a poker chip, bright red with gold and white specks across the surface. Mr. Henderson cradled the chip in his palm, sliding it around with his finger while Graveler spoke up.

"There's a casino just down the road and to the left. First turn you make on the highway. Take that chip right there and cash it in. Consider that my toll for the wonderful ride. And the mints, too." Mr. Henderson raised his eyebrows, puzzled by the directions. "But why?" He asked, lifting his eyes to the air to receive an answer from his passenger. But the Demon was gone, nowhere to be seen. Graveler's words echoed in the wind, faint but powerful. "For a psychopath, you sure ain't too rough 'round the edges, Henderson."