Inferno of God

4: In Which Hell Begins to Die

The next few weeks were unbearably difficult for everyone involved, both physically, and emotionally. All normality was dropped in favor of caring for the ill, and as more people succumbed to the disease, the more difficult work became, until the length of their duties nursing, and farming whatever crops were left became practically unethical.

Anything resembling a quarantine quickly deteriorated, so Satan and Baal began to treat the sick alongside everyone else. Though, because of their almost ridiculous lack of experience, their role was little more than assistants, or someone to call on when a caretaker was forced to leave a patient for something.

One morning, as Satan was watching over a woman while her doctor worked in the fields, he was approached by her sister, who tapped him on his arm after stepping into the cabin. It was terribly random, and made the man practically jump when he felt her hand touch him.

"What are you doing?" asked she, an angry huff undertoning her voice.

He looked up to her calmly, and answered as though she had just asked for the time of day, "I am watching over your sister for her doctor."

"Yeah, I can see that, please leave."

Her response would have been completely normal even if Hell was behaving as it always was. Though Satan had noticed that such reactions were becoming much more common as people became more stressed. He smiled in a fake confusion, "Why do you say that? I am only trying to help." Although such a question was hardly ever appreciated by the residents, it was always helpful to learn specifics from those who were angry at him.

As expected, she began yelling, her body growing so rigid it was difficult to imagine how she would be able to step out of her current, rigor mortis-esque condition. "Because I do not want you here, isn't that enough? Unless you're planning on reincarnating my sister, and everyone else who's sick, like what you've outright been refusing to do, then just go."

Satan stood up, taking his cape off the back of the chair in preparation to do as she asked, "Alright, Ms. Livingston, I'll go, but first, I believe you should know the reason why I haven't been reincarnating, if it means that much to you. The simple fact of the matter is that I don't know what God will do if I break his plan for me and allow such a thing." His voice firmed, "that is it," and at that, he cliped his cape around his shoulders, creaked the door open, and left, knowing from the blank look on the woman's face that his answer would suffice.

Despite the frequency of such outbursts, he managed to stay largely unaffected by them, and was able to walk quietly down the road from the woman's cabin without any noticeable emotional changes. He knew they were simply natural human reactions to the circumstances, and had even seen similar outbursts between Baal and himself in private settings, both now, and after they had been cast out of Heaven.

He couldn't deny that he had considered granting premature reincarnations, for it was likely the memory of disease and famine had replaced sin in the subconscious of many residents, but whenever he thought about it, he would always convince himself that God just wouldn't stand for such a thing. His resentment towards Satan had obviously grown, and knowing his sense of duty, he would expect Satan to continue his service no matter what stood in his way. A sigh escaped his nose, what happened to the days when he could do what he felt was right despite outside pressure? The answer was obvious, of course, he had committed the first sin, not only that, but he now had others who needed looking after, beings that God could easily take advantage of.

He walked down the path to the manor, now feeling thoroughly depressed, but was stopped by a young Muslim woman, around the age of nineteen, calling out to him, her headscarf draped carelessly around her neck, the way one might wear a scarf. Satan turned his back to her so she could rewrap it, but soon stopped in favor of sprinting further down the hill when she spoke, still panting heavily from the run.

"Baal is sick, he collapsed in the workhouse."