Reaper School

CHAPTER 3: Lounge of the Dead

Lounge of the Dead

Wet and warm sensations everywhere on his face, in a slobbery, affectionate way that for a moment Alaris thought he was a grade school student all over again and being woken up by Gamby. Then he remembered the pet had been dead close to fifteen years and his eyes snapped open. A bear of a dog was licking his face –or rather, the blood dripping out of the open wounds in his face – while something very near was making a hissing sound like a nest of vipers. He dragged his bottom through the muddy bank and screamed. Another dog turned to snarl at him and then a third, till his brain registered that all three heads were attached to the same giant, thickly-muscled neck.

Kerberos. Greek mythology from high school flooded over him as he broke into cold sweat. The Hellhound. Sibling to the monsters Chimaera and Hydra.

All three heads were barking a volley of thunder so he pressed both hands over his ears to protect his eardrums from further damage. His eyes fell on the curious mane flowing down the dog's broad back. In minute detail, he noted how it was tangled with glistening, slimy things that resolved themselves into a hundred small snakes twisting in agitation.

Aris took little comfort from the idea that the legendary guard dog of Hell wouldn't harm anyone. His memory of his high school readings had better not be wrong when it told him Kerberos was there so the spirits of the dead could enter but none could ever leave.

Besides, he realized he had bigger things to worry about as he stared beyond the hell-hound at a sea of people pouring out of one small boat that had ploughed ashore; Kharon's most likely. Every man, woman, and child moved sluggishly as though hypnotized. Dense fog had settled on the land and just outside this, all the humans shuffled together. Then, out of the dimmest instinct, they fell in wavy lines disappearing into the white curtain.

Overhead, a LED message sign that was oddly manmade greeted: "WELCOME TO MONSTRO CITY!!!!" its red letters scrolling over and over. A growl from Kerberos told Aris he had no other option but to move on to the fog and face the music.

****

The first thing any human would notice about the nether region was the presence, even the abundance, of water in the form of rivers and lakes, contrary to popular belief. It chilled Aris to the bone to watch stories of eternal damnation come true before his eyes, what he had in life treated with derision and levity. First, he had come by the River Akheron, where the fiendish boatman Kharon transported the souls of the dead from the other side. Then there was Lethe, Pool of Forgetfulness, from which the departed drank to shed every vestige of their past lives; and Kokytos, Greek for lamentation, the frozen lake where spirits lay entombed in ice except for half their faces. They all wept their hearts out but the tears would freeze as soon as they touched skin, pressing the eyes shut and taking away the last bit of comfort that humans normally found in crying.

The most immediate threat is what lay past the fog where all the roads converged. Aris found himself in an abandoned airport bustling with transients like him. Most of the seats in the waiting area were derelict and gutted and the glass booths where people were supposed to get their passports stamped had all been emptied. But in front of the booths three different reapers stood their ground as immigration officers.

Through the same supernatural psychic ability he had, Aris was instantly aware of the three creatures:

The first was Kera, the Spirit of Vengeance who was responsible for conducting everyone that experienced a violent death. She took the shape of a battle maiden in plate armor. Her face was ebony and her short, curly hair was golden blonde. She was exactly the type to bring home to mama except for her long fangs and talons and the huge pair of raven wings on her back.