A Little Less Brutal Murder, A Little More Touch Me

Dead On Arrival

The previous day.

Joe lay sprawled over the red satin sheets, he wasn't really sure what it was he was smoking - couldn't remember when he started it either, and he was only vaguely paying attention to what The Devil was doing.

"I must say, I think this has got to be some of my best work!" He was pulling Joe's wings in various different directions, the deep crimson, leathery wings matching most things in the room. "Don't you agree?"

Joe made a small grunt in response, not really hearing what The Devil was saying to him - his mind was elsewhere.

The Devil noticed this and stopped, he turned to face him. "What bothers you, Joseph?"

"It's nothing," he muttered, slurring his words a little, and waving his hand dismissively.

The Devil was going to ask him again, until he noticed the frown taking over Joe's face. "Oh, you're unhappy here. Am I not enough for you? All of this not enough?"

"It's not that... it's..."

"What?"

"I'm worried about my friends, back up there." He gestured with his hand in a vaguely upwards direction.

"Say, seeing as I like you so much, and I'm feeling generous today, how about this: I'll let you go back up to Earth for a few days - let you check on your friends."

Joe sat up, intrigued. "Really?"

The Devil shrugged, "Sure, why not. But I expect you back here by Thursday." He pulled Joe's face close to his, so close that his horns were catching on his hair. "Because if you don't..." his voice a sinister whisper, "You can be sure to endure agony unlike any you've ever known when you die again. And I will take immense pleasure in it."

He let the words linger in the air until he suddenly let go of Joe, stepped back and smiled. "Anyway, here you go: one trip to the land of the living. Enjoy your time!" He clapped his hands and it was like a hole opened up in the ceiling. Joe looked up and was confronted with his own dead body staring at him. The Devil pushed him upwards and he fell through.

Everything went black.

Then he was cold.

He opened his eyes. He was back in the hospital where he died - where Patrick had killed him. Pulling the bloody wires off of himself, he sat up. The Devil hadn't exactly made it easy to find them, had he? Of course not.
Where was he even going to begin to look?