THE ZIMVENTURES
ZIM'S INFERNO
PROLOGUE
When Zim woke up, someone's hands were in his pockets. They riffled frantically through the contents, finding nothing of interest. Of course he didn't have anything; he was dead. The last thing he remembered doing was going back to the past so he could kill the younger version of himself. In fact he shouldn't even have pockets.
"Come on," someone said. The voice had a thick Russian accent to it. "You must have something."
Shit. It was a guy. Zim immediately felt gay, and the shame hit his system. He sprang up. "Quit it!"
The Russian snarled, but he retreated. "Sorry. I thought you were sleeping."
Only then did Zim notice the moans and the screams around him. It looked like he was in a very large dungeon. He couldn't even see the walls, this chamber was so big. The place was crowded with people, and most of them were naked. Those with clothes, like the Russian, wore rags. As far as Zim could tell, the only person with jeans and a t-shirt was himself.
"Where the fuck am I?"
"'Scuse me. Yeh don't happen to be Cris Zim, do yeh?"
Zim turned to see a skinny short man with a mop of black hair. His face was very pale, and he wore a leather jacket. His appearance, combined with his accent, made him the stereotypical Irishman. "You can call me Cris."
The Irishman chuckled. "Not likely, mate. My boss told me to address yeh as Zim."
Zim grimaced. It never failed. No one ever called him Cris. Even his own father called him by his dreaded last name. He shrugged it off as best he could. "Boss?"
"Oi can't tell yeh. But he sent me to foind yeh. My name is Doyle." He held out his hand.
Zim took it. "What does he want me for?"
"He just wants t'see yeh. That's all Oi know."
"So . . . what is this place?" Zim waved a hand at the rest of the people around him.
"This is Purgatory," Doyle said. "Yeh see, the good Lord doesn't know what to do with yeh. No one's ever committed quantum suicide before. Normally those who kill themselves woind up in Hell. But you're different, son. Unique. God's trynna figure out what t'do wit' yeh."
"Oh. Great. So I'm dead."
"It's no big deal. Oi'm dead, too. Have been for quite some time. I hear you know my former partner, Angel."
"The vampire with the cool hair? Yeah, I ran into him once. Or did I? Since I'm no longer around, he probably never met me, right?"
Doyle sighed, rubbing his temple. "Yer givin me a bloody headache. Forget that stuff. Listen: Oi have to escort yeh through the noine rings've Hell. If yer gonna be blathering mad shite like that, Oi don't know if Oi can make it." He suddenly reached around Zim and slapped at someone. Zim turned and saw the Russian.
"What is that guy's deal?" Zim asked.
"Never moind Valery. He's the Russian guy from THE SOPRANOS. This is where he is."
"Huh. I always wondered about that guy."
"Anyway, follow me."
Doyle walked away, and Zim followed, wanting to get as far away from the Russian as possible. As they walked Zim thought he might make some conversation. Ordinarily he wasn't very good at this kind of thing, but he figured since he was dead, he was free to reinvent himself. Perhaps this time around, he'd have more confidence.
"So, how did you know Angel?"
"Oi usta have visions," Doyle said. "From the Powers That Be. They were his guide t'foinding out who needed help. But then Oi sacrificed moiyself and passed those powers on t'a wee lass boiy the name've Cordelia. Oi died and woke up here. God didn't know what t'do wit me, neither, since Oi killed moiyself but also saved the woreld at the toime. It was decoided that Oi was t'be a liaison between Heaven n Hell. Hence moiy job wit' you."
"Oh." Zim tried to think of something else to say, but he came up with nothing.
"Here we are." Doyle stopped in front of a door and gestured to it. "This is the only way out've Purgatory. It's closed t'evereyone except people loike me. Yeh ready fer Hell?"
Zim sighed. "I guess so." So far the afterlife wasn't so bad. How much worse could Hell be?
Doyle opened the door and waved a hand at the spiral staircase leading down. "Away we go, mate."
"Whoa," Zim said. "That looks like a lot of stairs. How far does it go?"
"666 stairs," Doyle said. "Yeah, the Dark One's got a sense've humor."
Zim sighed. "That's way too much. Let's stay here."
Doyle shook his head. "Oi was told yer a lazy one. We can't stay here. Let's go."
Zim wanted to cry. "There are just too many stairs. It's not worth it."
"Yeh know what's not worth it? They don't have alcohol here. Imagine an eternity wit'out booze."
"Bruni would not like that."
"Future Booze Jaysis?"
"You know him?"
"Aye, word've him gets about."
Zim looked at the staircase again. "Do we really have to go?"
Doyle nodded.
Zim let out a tremendous sigh. "Let's get it over with."
"Good man!" Doyle clapped him on the shoulder.
Zim took the first step, and already he felt tired. He didn't want to imagine how he'd feel after the next 665.
