HELL OF A DEAL, a supernatural satire

Thirty Six

36

The EKG machine blipped along, and Al Smith opened his eyes. The room was all white,and the golden sunlight shone in through the window and off to the side of his bed. Al's lungs breathed only shallowly. He adjusted to the drugged up helpless state, and he felt the oxygen tube strapped around his face below his nostrils.

Victoria Smith rushed into the room, and she saw Al. "Daddy! You're still alive!"

Smith smiled,although the tight elastic band wrapped about his face resisted any facial movements.

"Vee. I don't have long."

"Don't say that."

"I love you with all my heart. Just listen."

"What, daddy?"Victoria teared up, and she struggled to keep herself together. She moved in close to hug Al's arm.

"Your first boyfriend, was it Tommy?"

"Huh?" Victoria picked her head up, startled. "Yeah. Tommy."

"I've made a lot of shit movies."

"No!"

"Listen," said Al. "It's true. I was irresponsible. I let a lot of crap slip by,and I regret that now."

"Daddy, you made some wonderful films, too." She smiled in an almost convincing display.

"Yeah, but I did a lot more harm than good." Al coughed.

"No. That's just wrong."

"It's all true,"he said. "I damaged young developing minds. I told them torture was acceptable. I made murder seem like fun and games. I gave them terrible, immoral ideas and said this is how you be cool."

"What are you saying, daddy?"

Al's heart attack hit him then, and Smith could feel the devastation ramping inside his chest. The EKG spiked. A thunderous electronic alarm rang out through the hallways of the hospital, and it beeped through a cycle.

Victoria panicked,flitting around the machines in vain.

Al grabbed Victoria Smith's hand to hold her still. Through gritted teeth, Al said,"You're taking over the studio."

"What about Junior?"

"He's gone. He was a ghost." Al gasped desperately for air. "Vee, I want you to do something for me."

She squeezed his hand clasped between both of her own. "Just say it, daddy."

"I want you to live a happy life."

"I will." The tears poured down her face.

"And, I want you to end up on the right side of the universe."

Victoria shook her head, confused. "What do you mean?"

The crash team arrived at their room's door. The doctors yelled commands at Victoria, chaotic in their determination.

Al held fast onto his daughter's wrist. "You're my legacy."

"Me?"

"Do it better than I did. Make moral art."

Victoria nodded quickly, as the hospital staff wrenched on her shoulders and dragged her away.

Smith said, "Don'tend up like me. Disgraced. Like a stain on the culture."

The orderlies muscled Victoria Migisi-Smith backward and they pushed her all the way out of Al's room.

"Daddy!"

They closed the door in Victoria's face, and they went to work shocking, injecting and prodding Alfred Smith Sr.. It was far too late for Al this time, and his five minutes were up.

Victoria,devastated, shrank back away from the death room. She spun around dizzily in the hallway, and she stumbled to a row of chairs where she collapsed.

Victoria pondered her father's final words, and she grieved terribly.

* * * * *

Al's hospital roomactivity faded to silence, absolute silence.

Smith knew what theywould write about him, his filmography, his achievements. He'd bethe butt of jokes, of Internet parodies. His films would fade intoobscurity long before those of many of his peers.

Al's body layabandoned and stiff in the hospital room. Lou Seaford strolled in,and he snickered. "Hey buddy, you miss me?"

Al sat up, and hestood beside Lou without exerting any effort at all. "So it'syou."

"Forever and ever.Come on." Lou marched along, and the contours of the walls meltedaway, left in some other realm. All became fluid and ethereal.

Smith followed, andhe walked through the star fields or through to the other side of adream. Whatever it was and wherever he was, Smith followedinvoluntarily. "Your plan won't work."

"Oh?" saidSeaford. "Which one?"

Smith fought toremember it all through the blur of his new circumstance. Al felt thetemperature rising, and he knew little remained of his borrowed time."People are basically good," he said. "They're not going tofall for your tricks."

Seaford shook hishead, not quite amused. "Sure they will. They always do."

"They'll seethrough you." Al pleaded.

"You didn't."

Massive beyondrationality, gates restrained the inferno ahead. Al faced his ownfailed and wretched place in the fabric of the universe. Smith said,"Can I just ask one question?"

"Shoot." LouSeaford shed his human mask, and his skin dissolved away. The rawcrimson energy beneath expanded outward.

Smith floated inSeaford's orbit like an electron against an expanding red giant.

"Is Lisa inthere?" Al similarly peeled away his shell to the essence beneathit, and he emerged as a glowing mist.

"Your wife? Nah."

"Really?"

"Haven't seenher."

"Oh. Thank God."

"Maybe," saidSeaford's amorphous form, "when your wife Lisa stopped going tosee your movies you might have taken that as some kind of a sign? Alittle late now, bud."

It was then thatsomething odd happened, unexpected in Lou Seaford's sphere ofexistence. Lou could only watch in amazement as Alfred Smith fadedout and disappeared.

"Hey?" Loushrunk back to his humanoid size, and he spun around before histitanic gate. Seaford shot about searching through hazes of cloudsand nebulae, and through the distorted waves of dreamy energy.

Al Smith was nowhereto be found, and apparently he had escaped Seaford's domain.

Lou Seaford floatedsolitarily before his infernal gates, and he contemplated hiscareless loss of Smith's soul.

"Son of a bitch!"