NEXT EXIT PURGATORY
By
A. Maire Dinsmore
Copyright © A. Maire Dinsmore
Visit the author’s website at: https://www.amairedinsmore.com
His life ended with a literal bang; the sound of twisted metal and screeching tires echoing through the night as his truck sideswiped a sedan in an intersection, going too fast and pummeling the both of them into the side of a building made of concrete and stone. The smell of alcohol was strong in the cab of his truck, hanging heavily around the wasted remains of his body, now pinned beneath the dashboard, but was quickly replaced with the stronger scents of gas and urine, emitted from both the dying engine and his dying body.
The empty streets around them offered no consolation to the sobbing scream that came from inside the sedan, and though his fingers made a half-hearted attempt to reach for his cell phone, it was not in its usual spot. Even if he would have been able to gather the strength to use his broken arm and ruined hand to call for help, he wouldn’t have been able to find the phone. The movement stopped soon after it began, however, and the eyes of the once handsome man went dead as life left his body.
What he couldn’t explain was how he found himself standing on the sidewalk outside of his truck, watching the scene of the accident he’d caused. His body was still ruined, the pain flooding through his system, but all the same there he stood.
“Alex,” he said aloud, noticing how the drunken slur that had marked his words when he had left the bar not a half hour before was gone, “I do believe you are dead, mate.”
A motorcycle stopped and the rider pulled his helmet off, making the call Alex himself was unable to make. He watched as the police and aid cars arrived, bodies were pulled both from the sedan and from his truck, confirming his belief. Not one of the people that milled about the vehicles took notice of him, and Alex watched himself be zipped into a body bag and be carted away in the back of a coroner’s van, wondering all the while if this was what it felt like to be in the Matrix.
When nearly everyone was gone, only then did he notice what they were saying about him and he scowled at the slander. Sure he’d had a few too many drinks and might have been going a bit too fast but calling him a douchebag without even knowing him and after he was dead? Cops were all assholes.
Alex turned away and wondered what he was going to do with himself now, when his eyes landed on a tall shadowy figure standing on the other side of his truck. Unlike everyone who’d responded to the accident, this one noticed him. Not only that, it was watching him.
When Alex took notice of it, it came towards him and he quickly surmised that the closer the thing got to him, the more his wounds hurt.
“Hey, fuck off,” he said, attempting to look a great deal braver than he felt. The sound of his voice came out a much higher pitch than he would have liked however, and he knew that he had failed. He stepped back, some basic instinct screaming at him that he needed to keep as much distance between himself and whatever the fuck this was as possible.
The shadow lifted up what Alex could only describe as an arm and he found himself unable to move any further away from it. He became intensely aware of the smell of himself and he had the strongest urge to shit that he’d ever had in his life. Eyes rolling back in his head, Alex couldn’t turn away from the creature but he at least didn’t have to look at it as it killed him.
The intense pain he was expecting never came and the smell of his own body was replaced with the sickening scent of sulfur. Against his own better judgment, which he’d never really learned to use in the first place, Alex opened his eyes and found himself staring into a wretched face; softly glowing eyes, a missing nose and a crooked mouth twisted up into a … smile? Was this thing smiling at him?
Alex’s mouth gaped open and he gasped as the shadow lurched into him, sinking beneath his skin. The ground around him split wide and flames rose up, licking at his body. Alex finally found his voice again, shrieking out in agony as the flames curled around his arms and legs, becoming more solid than fire had any right to be, and pulling him down beneath the ground. The places where his skin was already cut and where the flames now spilt there emitted a burst of dark shadow; the creature was inside of him. Some part of his mind noted this fact but the larger part of his brain was focused on nothing but the pain – until he finally passed out, though his screams never stopped.
When Alex woke he was no longer in the suburbs, blocks away from the bar where he’d died owing three hundred dollars. He lay sprawled across a rock, draped across it as if he were about to be skinned for somethings supper. The thought and the memory sickened him slightly and he rolled off of it, crouching beside it for cover as he inspected himself. His body was still covered in wounds, though he moved about and didn’t feel as much as he had before. His dirty blonde hair was nearly black from grime, gunk and soot. His clothes were disgusting, but at least still on his body. Alex had no way of knowing if he was still dead or where he was, but turned his attention to his surroundings.
The sky above him was a reddish brown, almost purple in some spots like it was bruised. There were no clouds and he could see no trees or mountains in the distance, though he thought he could see inverted stalagmites rising up on a hill, as little sense as that made. A bubbling sound off to one side made him think of water and some memory from his life, probably some fact learned from some survivalist reality television show (since he’d never been a boy scout), told him that he wanted to move in that direction.
Pushing himself off of the rock, Alex moved as quickly as he could in the best direction he could tell was toward the water; his footsteps landing heavily as he clumsily propelled himself down the hill, giving no heed to how much noise he was making or how much attention he was drawing to himself. When he neared the sound of the water, he sped up only to come face to face with a massive creature that was giving off the sound as it breathed, rather than a river.
Sleek black hide with an oily-rainbow reflection as it moved, it was Alex’s height at the shoulder and four legs were thicker around than he was round. He skidded on the rocky ground as his brain contemplated the sudden change to the situation, though the creature was used to such appearances of sources of food and simply opened its jowls, revealing several rows of haphazard teeth that Alex awkwardly thought would be perfect for ripping the flesh off of bone.
The feet of the creature were round like an elephant’s rather than ending in paws like a dog’s or a cat’s and Alex kicked off of them to run in the other direction, hoping that this meant it moved slower than a canine would. Alex had no idea where he was running to only that he was going in the opposite direction of wherever this thing was.
The crashing footfalls behind him told him that not only was it in pursuit, it was moving faster than he’d hoped. Luck was definitely not on his side today. Oh wait, wasn’t he dead?
Alex climbed the hill, moving as fast as his out of shape and already injured body would allow. The beast kept up well and he wanted to laugh at his own stupidity, the urge only increasing as he fell and tore open his knee. He reached the inverted stalagmites and the beast fell into one, Alex looking back over his shoulder as the beast stumbled to one side.
Not sure if he was fighting to live or not, Alex began weaving between the stone pillars doing his best to keep from touching them after brushing against them cut his shoulders in several places.
After a good long distance Alex looked back and realized the creature had abandoned the pursuit. Feeling half victorious and half embarrassed (just how long had he been running from nothing?) he dropped to the ground and tried to catch his breath, leaning against one of the rocks.
“You’re such an idiot.”
The un
expected voice scared the wits out of him and Alex screeched in a very un-manly fashion, dragging himself away from the source of it as he threw his arms up in a halfhearted attempt at self-preservation.
“Those rocks are poisonous.”
Alex looked up to find a girl standing farther up the hill from him, looking disgusted. The clothes she wore looked a lot like his, beyond dirty but much functional than anything he had on. She had on a belt with lots of stuff attached to it and her hair color was indistinguishable, having been pulled severely back from her dirt smudged face. The things that stuck out to him the most were the fact that she carried weapons and that she had an