Author's Note: Pam's journey is underway! This is my own interpretation of Hell and its torments as described by Dante in his epic poem The Divine Comedies. Dante briefly described the torments within Hell, and described almost none of the architecture (at least in the translation I have, so I'm trying to envision what Hell would be like (ironic because I'm Agnostic and not really sure if all of this exists, but that's beside the point) and every little vision I have in my head, I'm writing down and incorporating into the story.
A map of Hell (as envisioned by Dante) can be found here in case you want to follow Pam's journey: http://www.tabula-rasa.info/HorrorImages/Inferno.gif
Pam wasn't sure how long Phyllis was gone to talk to whoever she needed to before she got the urge to sleep. Immediately, her eyelids started to droop and she yawned. She knew she didn't need to, but sleeping would be one way to pass the time. She curled herself up on the couch and drifted off.
She wasn't sure how long she slept, but when she woke up, Phyllis was sitting patiently in the chair across from where she slept. Pam immediately bolted from the couch and hurried over to Phyllis, whose expression was somber and guarded.
"Well?" Pam asked anxiously.
"You…can try. If it's what you truly want, then no one up here will attempt to take that away from you. But Pam…don't be fooled. This is going to be the most difficult task of your existence, both Earthly and otherwise. A few before you have tried to enter the Dark, only to become trapped by the palpable despair there. Are you prepared to take that risk? Are you willing to possibly, probably, surrender an eternity here for Jim?" Phyllis asked calmly.
"Unflinchingly," Pam's voice was strong and steady. Phyllis nodded slowly.
"That's what I thought. The Circles aren't easy to navigate. You're going to need someone to help you find him, and I can't continue past the gate. I'm going to take you to the gates. From there, Virgil will guide you," Phyllis said, visibly shaken.
"When do we leave?" was Pam's only question. Phyllis led her outside, where the sun had completely risen, hanging bright and bold, steadfast, in the clear blue sky. Phyllis turned to Pam.
"Close your eyes…"
Pam felt Phyllis' warm hand grip hers and when she felt it suddenly disappear, when she faintly smelled ash and sensed hazy smoke blowing over her skin, she opened up her eyes.
In front of her was a very high wall, made of concrete, that ran off to her right and left until disappearing far, far off into the distance. Coiled at the top of the wall and stretching along its length were rusty spools of razor wire, creating an inescapable obstacle for anyone trying to climb over the wall. Pam's eyes came to rest on the steel door before her. Set into the concrete on rails that allowed it to slide sat a red steel door, the paint badly chipped and peeling off in the center of the small dents and dings that pockmarked the door's surface. Next to the door, in the concrete wall, was a rusting metal box, barely clinging to the concrete, its door slightly ajar. The most unsettling, fear-inspiring detail for Pam, though, was the metal sign right above the door. It looked like one of the thin highway signs she'd seen on overpasses as she drove to see her mother. The sign, white with a black border and black lettering, consisted of seven short words.
ABANDON ALL HOPE, YE WHO ENTER HERE.
Pam heard a shuffling behind her and turned around. Sitting in an old wooden chair, his feet propped up on the table in front of him, was a man. He was middle-aged, gaunt, and his head and chin were covered in short, black stubble. He wore black military boots, jeans greasy from the smoke in the air, and a gray t-shirt. On the table in front of him was what looked like a large, smooth, tarnished pocket watch. He saw Pam and stood, clearing his throat before speaking with a British accent.
" 'ello there. You must be Pam. I'm Virgil," he extended a soot covered hand to Pam, who took it hesitantly. Virgil smiled slightly at her, but it did nothing to hide the look of fear and anticipation in his weary eyes.
"Hi…yeah, I'm Pam," she said softly, avoiding his eyes.
"Love, there's no point in awkwardness or shyness, given what we'll be going through in the next while," Virgil smiled sadly before gesturing at her feet. "You're dressed ok then?"
Pam looked from his smirk and raised eyebrows down to her bare feet. She fumbled for something to say.
"Uh…I don't know…I've never done this before," she stuttered. Virgil managed to laugh lightly.
"True, true. Well, best get you some shoes then," and when Pam looked down, she was wearing a snug fitting pair of boots that matched Virgil's. She looked up to meet his eyes, but he was already walking towards the sliding steel door.
"Come on, then. No time to waste," he called over his shoulder. Pam followed him over to the box on the wall next to the door, which creaked in protest as Virgil swung it open. Inside was a metal keypad. She watched as Virgil punched in a seemingly endless code and then started as she heard from within the wall a loud click. The door slid off to the left, a dull scraping sound echoing in her ears. She followed Virgil through. Once across the threshold, the door halted its movement and quickly moved back to lock in place. Pam found herself staring at a forest of black trees, a roadway winding through them, asphalt cracked and broken, strewn feet from the road in some spots. They walked into the mouth of the trees and were swallowed by more darkness. Pam's eyes had no time to adjust and she slowed her pace. Ahead of her, she heard a metallic click and saw bright flashes revealing Virgil's position. After a few moments, the sparks grew into a flame that cut the gloom. Virgil held the cigarette lighter out in front of him.
"It's not far now, just stay close," he whispered. Pam nodded and wrapped her arms around herself, pressing into Virgil's side. She heard branches snapping in the trees lining the broken road, and she sensed lithe black shapes bounding almost soundlessly through the forest, the unseen creatures watching her.
"What…what's out there?" she whispered back.
"They're kind of like big, hairless, black wolves. Occasionally someone manages to slip away from Acheron and it's their job to…well, stop them. Don't worry, though. They exist solely in this dark forest; the light keeps 'em away," Virgil's voice was steady and calm, but his eyes were focused intently on the path before them as he guided her deftly over huge cracked chunks of pavement.
After walking a few minutes longer, they stepped out of the forest. Before them, the road disintegrated into gray sand which led down to a massive river, the dark waters stretching away toward an unseen opposite bank hidden in the thick mist. Straight ahead of her, a ramshackle wooden dock kissed the water.
"Ferry will be here in a minute," Virgil said. From farther up their side of the river, they heard a faint cry, just barely above a whisper. After a few minutes, it grew louder and louder. Through the mist to her left, Pam could see a red banner floating several feet off of the ground and moving forward at a steady pace. The banner wasn't attached to a pole and no one was carrying it. A few heartbeats after the banner came into view, a huge crowd of dirty, nude people came streaming out of the mist, their cries now deafening. Their limbs flailed about their bodies wildly as they streamed through the sand after the banner, a few losing their footing only to land face-first in the sand. As they got closer, Pam noticed what they were swatting frantically at. Swarms of wasps and hornets pursued them ceaselessly, their flesh covered with writhing maggots and strange looking beetles. The thickest concentration was around their eyes, and their filthy skin was dotted with angry red welts. The crowd screamed past Virgil and Pam, their cries so loud that Pam clamped her hands over her ears as they passed between them and the dock. Soon, their cries faded in the mist and Pam found herself screwing her eyes shut tight, calming herself, trying to forget what she just saw.
"Who were they, Virgil?" she asked once she had slowed her breathing and calmed the storm in her stomach.
"Opportunists," and at Pam's blank expression, Virgil continued, "People who in life never took sides, whether for good or evil. They just existed, not caring about one cause more than another. And you saw the folks with the bloody nubs on their backs, right?"
"Yes…" Pam said slowly. As the crowd tore past her, she had noticed through the ever-present mist that a few of the crowd had short, bloody stumps jutting from their shoulder blades.
"Those are fallen angels, of sorts. See, before this place existed, when…you know who still lived up there, where you came from, there was that whole Rebellion. The event that got him kicked out in the first place. Well, the people you saw were the angels that refused to take sides, neither with the Father nor the Great Betrayer. They had their wings torn off and were cast out after the traitors were purged. Now they chase the banner, on the banks of Acheron…," Virgil trailed off as a horn sounded loudly in the distance. Pam turned toward the sound, spotting red running lights.
The decrepit hulk of the small, rusting ferry slowly slunk out of the mist until the stern was inches away from the dock. Pam tried to decipher the odd script, what she assumed was the boat's name, but she found she couldn't, although she did think it looked to be Latin. The horn sounded once more, an empty sound in the gloom, casting itself across the water until fading into the sound of the waves lapping at the shore. Pam saw a tall, thick figure move from the pilot house back toward the dock. Virgil led her forward.
"Not your usual ship, eh, mate?" Virgil said, holding out his hand for the towering figure, which Pam now saw was an incredibly large man wearing grease-covered overalls, and carrying over his shoulder a large, long wrench. The man took Virgil's hand inside his massive, dirty fist and shook it once.
"Pam, this is Charon. He's the ferryman," Virgil said, stepping aside. Pam looked up into Charon's grey eyes.
"Come. We must depart," Charon's voice was deep, but deceptively soft as he led them onto the boat, into the pilot house. He manipulated the throttle and the engines grew into a dull roar, pitch-black exhaust fumes belching into the air around the rear of the boat. Charon's eyes kept flicking between the water out in front of him and what she thought was an old, cracked sonar screen. She saw Virgil looking nervously at Charon.
"Char, are we going to make it?" Virgil swallowed thickly.
"I don't know…" was the soft, deep reply of Charon's voice. Moments later, Pam heard a pinging noise. The sonar screen was awash with blips, which merged into thick clumps and continued steadily towards the center of the round screen…toward their boat.
"What…" Pam began, but was silenced as she heard wet slapping against the side of the boat. Curious, she moved out of the pilot house.
"Pam! Stay inside! You've got to stay inside and hold onto something!" Virgil yelled after her, but her curiosity was overwhelming. She stepped to the railing and peered over into the black water three feet below. She began to make out pale white shapes just below the surface and looked back toward the pilot house. A scream from down in the water jerked her gaze back.
The boat was surrounded by wailing, writhing figures slapping desperately against the boat. The figures were completely eyeless, nothing but skin covering up where the sockets should have been. They were also bald, and, from what she could see, sexless. The screaming of the figures in the water was earsplitting and Pam knew they must be on the other side of the boat. Suddenly, the boat started rocking, gently at first, but quickly listing from side to side more and more viciously until Pam was weaving back and forth on the deck, dangerously close to losing her footing and tumbling into the writhing masses. She turned around and saw Virgil leaning out of the boathouse, arms stretched toward her, screaming her name. Pam shrieked once more and bolted for his arms. He grabbed her and pulled her inside before slamming the door behind him and locking it.
Charon was at the wheel, face ashen and focused as he tried to guide them across the water. Next to him, the sonar pinged furiously. Eyes wide and frantic, Pam sunk to the floor as the edges of her vision began to blacken. The last thing she saw before she fainted was Virgil peering into her eyes, yelling her name, trying to get her to focus, but his voice sounded so, so distant.
That last bit in the water with the "people" trying to capsize the boat was borrowed from the movie What Dreams May Come, reconstructed to my own vision. Reviews are so, so welcome!