The Final Winter

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Harry opened The Trumpet’s door and looked out over the landscape. The blizzard had finally begun to die down, its job almost completed. The world had been rendered featureless. Everywhere Harry looked was pure-white and buried beneath giant snow banks. Across the street, the tops of buildings were just about visible, but their doorways were covered up past their tops. Harry had a feeling that Lucas had something to do with The Trumpet not yet being buried.

At the bottom of the hill stood the Angels, lined up and stretching on forever like the Great Wall of China.

Although that’s probably buried along with everything else. The world’s greatest achievements reduced to featureless, white, nothingness.

Harry hailed them. “I’m coming over. I give up, okay?”

The blond Angel in the centre – Michael? – nodded. Then he lifted his arms out in front of him and shot fire.

“Hey!” Harry protested. “I said I’m coming!”

Harry thought he was about to get fried but soon realised that wasn’t Michael’s intention. In front of him the steps had been cleared of snow, melted by a rapidly disappearing river of fire. “Oh, er… cheers.”

Harry took the newly uncovered steps slowly, in no rush to test out the theory he had in his head.

I guess time doesn’t mean much when you’re eternal

The Angels stood patiently, seemingly happy to wait for him. Michael had taken a step forward, exiting the line. When Harry reached the bottom of the steps, he saw that Michael was smiling reassuringly, like a Dentist about to perform a root canal.

“Welcome, Sinner,” said Michael in a far softer voice than he had in the previous instances when Harry had heard him speak. His presence was no less awesome.

“Can we just use ‘Harry’ for now, yes?”

“As you wish, Harry Jobson.”

“Just ‘Harry’ is fine… you know, don’t worry about it.”

Michael bowed his head at Harry as if there was a great pity that he was forced to acknowledge. It made Harry angry, but he couldn’t let it distract him.

“Are you ready? It is time.” said the Angel.

“I just have a couple of questions to ask first.”

Michael looked at him and something that Harry thought was anger streamed through the archangel’s eyes.

Obviously, The Angel of Death doesn’t appreciate being delayed by a mere mortal. I bet he thinks it’s ‘impertinent’.

Harry wanted to laugh in the Angel’s face.

Michael seemed to calm himself as he spoke again. “Ask your questions quickly, Sinner.”

There’s that word again. Fucker!

Harry nodded, also wanting to hurry things along, before he lost his nerve. “After what I did; after I committed the… final sin, or whatever, it condemned everyone to Hell, right?”

Michael nodded.

“Do you think that’s fair?”

Michael was visibly annoyed. “It is His will.”

Harry nodded. “Right, right, didn’t think appealing to your better nature would work, so I guess I should skip straight to plan B.”

“Plan B?” Michael repeated, confused.

“Yeah, I want to make a deal.”

Michael exploded, but managed to do so without moving an inch. He seemed to oppress the air around him. “YOU DO NOT MAKE DEALS WITH AN AGENT OF HEAVEN. YOUR WILL IS INCONSEQUENTIAL TO HIS DECISIONS. YOU WILL OBEY, SINNER.”

“Okay, okay, but my final wish is just that you hear me out. If He ignores my offer then so be it and I will take what comes to me.”

Michael begun laughing and Harry was disturbed by how much like a child it sounded. “Okay, mortal, I will allow you to amuse me. Speak your deal.”

Okay, here goes.

“Send me to the Abyss.” Michael actually seemed to flinch at the suggestion and Harry hoped that it was a good sign. “Don’t send me to whatever Hell I deserve, send me to the Hell that no man deserves. Send me there and leave me there forever.”

Michael seemed to soften, no longer angry. It almost seemed like he was suddenly in awe of Harry. “You speak of things that you could never hope to understand, Harry Jobson. The Abyss is a punishment befitting no man. Why would you ask for such endless suffering?”

“I’ll tell you, but first let me know, can it be done? Can you send me there?”

Michael nodded. “Yes.”

“Then my offer is that you send me to the Abyss in exchange for all of the souls that have been damned to Hell since I murdered Thomas Morris. Save Steph, Jess, Jerry, and all the other people that don’t deserve Hell and instead send me to the Abyss to pay for humanity’s sin. Will my torture there outweigh the debt needed by sparing these people?”

Michael shook his head and began to be sob. The sight of it was almost heart-wrenching – the very act of an Angel crying seemed to be the embodiment of the word ‘tragedy’. “The debt of suffering would be a thousand times more than that which is owed. You cannot imagine the suffering. You should not make such frivolous suggestions without knowing the full consequence of what you suggest. It would be forever and you wish to make that decision on a romantic whim. You are a fool, Harry Jobson.”

Harry stepped forward and was amazed to see Michael wince. Apparently, talk of the Abyss was enough to make the Angel very anxious. Harry knelt down. “Then show me what I seek and then let me decide.”

“So be it,” said Michael, placing both of his hands upon Harry’s head.

What happened next was indescribable. Images and feelings shot through Harry’s very soul, showing him inhuman tortures at the hands of even more inhuman creatures. It was a place of endless and unimaginable pain and suffering. A place where every single second lasted centuries and was enough to break a man’s mind into a million horrified splinters. It was eternal agony in a place where only evil and sadness existed. It was the heart and soul of Hell itself.

Harry shot back from Michael’s grip, falling onto his back and panting. Tears fell from his eyes and already his soul felt damaged just from seeing images of the Abyss.

Can I do this?

Harry dragged himself up off the floor, weak and terrified. He took the steps needed to take him toe to toe with Michael. After what he had just witnessed, Harry found it hard to breath and even harder to talk.

But he had to do this.

“Spare their souls,” he said. “Send me to… the Abyss.”

Michael seemed sad, in fact the Angel’s very being seemed to turn to sadness itself. “So be it, Harry Jobson.”

God’s Angel of Death reached forward to place his hands on Harry’s forehead, but just as he expected to feel the touch of the Angel’s fingers searing his soul from his flesh, something else happened.

Michael took a step backwards and looked up at the sky; so did all of the other Angels, forming a never-ending line of stargazing figures. Harry looked up at the black sky too, but could see nothing but stars and a full moon. Harry wasn’t happy about the delay because it gave him an opportunity to back out of his crazy request for eternal damnation.

No Harry, you decided to do this, and that’s exactly what you’re going to do. Steph and the others don’t deserve to go to Hell because of my crimes.

Michael was smiling and a feeling of joy seemed to cascade from the archangel in bright, colourful waves. He looked at Harry and nodded, as if he knew something that he did not. “Goodbye, Harry Jobson,” said Michael as he placed his hands on Harry’s skull.

The pain of Harry’s soul being ripped from his body was exquisite. Like having a thousand fish hooks dragged through the insides of his body. The pain’s already starting, Harry feared as his soulless husk of a body fell to the floor.