Souls - XIX

I wake up naked and in the middle of nowhere. I’m alone. I remember putting up a fight, but it wasn’t enough. Mary did the same, but two of us versus over a dozen of them turned out to be losing odds. I feel up to my head, it is caked in blood. A gash on my right temple has started to heal, but the throbbing makes it perfectly clear it is none too happy about it. As I try to move up to my knees I feel a sharp pain in my groin, I look down. My thighs are stained with blood. 

I look around, looking to the horizons hoping to find some context to put myself in. No use, this is New Mexico, the great plains part of New Mexico nonetheless. All I see is expansive and sprawling flatness. No car, no clothes, no daughter, and…no soul. The soul was in my pocket, the pocket is currently residing in who-in-the-hell-knows.

Shit.

The only thing waiting for me is a piece of paper wedged under a rock. It reads:

“Thanks for the cash, know your place and stop playing dress-up.”

I assume they are referring to my place as a person with a vagina, the one they ravaged. 

Why isn’t my daughter here with me? Cause she’s younger and prettier. I know these type of men. 

I feel myself leave the disorientation of waking up naked and alone, pass right by the fear, and head straight into murderous anger. These men are gonna pay.

First, I have to pick a direction and walk. It would be really handy to have the Sun point to a horizon right now, but the pulsating skyless sky gives no hints. I walk to my left and hope that it’s West. West seems like a good idea.

It feels like I’ve been walking for hours, but again it’s hard to tell anything in this landscape. My cellphone is gone, no watch, no Sun, no days, no nights. I’m walking forward into nothingness, hoping that nothingness leads to my daughter.

I wince as another stone pokes upward into the sole of my foot. I look down, a thin trail of blood outlining my footsteps now. The temperature bites into my uncovered flesh. I’m pretty sure if I could die of natural causes, I’d be pretty close right now.

My periphery shifts, a shadow that was there isn’t there any longer. 

I would spin towards in shock and fear, but I already know what this is. It’s my paperwork.

A polite cough comes from behind me.

I turn to face it. It is a man with black eyes, dressed in a cheap suit. A worn briefcase hanging from his claw-like fingers.

“I believe we have business.”

I nod, “Show me the papers.”

He hands them to me with a fluidity that makes me shudder. 

I start skimming the provisions, “Does he know?”

“Hmmm?”

“Does he know about this? My current predicament?”

“He knows all.”

“Knows all and gives a shit about none of it.”

His black eyes stare back at me blankly. No response. I toss the contract back at him.

“Tell him I’ll sign it, but I need one addendum.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Tell him my soul is his, I agree to all of this. But if he wants Christ’s soul back I need one more thing.”

“And what would that be?”

“The wrath of Hell”