The Book of Bart Read online

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  © 2014 Ryan Hill

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  ISBN 978-1-62007-546-3 (ebook)

  ISBN 978-1-62007-547-0 (paperback)

  ISBN 978-1-62007-548-7 (hardcover)

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  he nerve.

  All the time I’d put in should’ve counted for something. The years. The effort. In the end, I was seemingly no better than common street trash. So what if I tried to take over the place? Getting thrown back to Earth without a reason or goodbye felt bad enough. I didn’t even get a pack of smokes and some walking cash. It was the disrespect that hurt the most. This place sucked. I wanted to go back to Hell.

  A demon like myself deserved better.

  Curled up on my side on a stretch of damp pavement, I felt like a cancer patient undergoing chemotherapy. My stomach felt sick and heavy. Even my bones vibrated like a tuning fork. Eventually, though, I managed to roll onto my back. High above me, framed by the squalid buildings that made up the alley, the crescent moon looked like a very pale butt cheek. I coughed, getting the last bit of sulfur and smoke out of my lungs, while questions bounced around in my pounding head.

  What in Heaven was I doing back on Earth?

  Had my sentence been rescinded? Did I somehow escape without anyone knowing it, including myself?

  And what was I lying in?

  I staggered to my feet, almost falling back down onto the rough pavement. I needed to get moving. Not only did this alley stink, but what if some vagrant caught sight of my chiseled abs? He’d probably try to take advantage of what they thought was a young man.

  I glanced around the alley. I saw a still-smoking arrow and my name scorched into the wall across from me. Well, the Idiot’s Guide version of my name, anyway.

  Bart.

  The arrow pointed to a plastic bag that, on closer inspection, turned out to be a care package. Whoever left the thing clearly didn’t have a clue about the class of individual they dealt with. The clothes looked like they came from Goodwill. The jeans tattered, the shoes, white. White! Only nurses and senior citizens wore white shoes. The shirt had Tony Stewart on it. There wasn’t any underwear, so on top of telling the world I loved NASCAR, I was going commando in some hand-me-down Wranglers. The disrespect just kept on coming.

  My skin crawled as I put on the clothes. They smelled like old gym socks and pee. I debated making the white sneakers dirty, so they wouldn’t stand out in the darkness. If anyone I knew saw me in this outfit, I’d never hear the end of it.

  Thankfully, the rest of the items in the bag were a little more to my liking. I found an access card―hopefully to get into a building I lived in―a key to my car, a cheap cellphone, and a wallet containing a driver’s license with my mug on it. Sadly, the ID said I was eighteen. So what if I always looked eighteen? For once, it would be nice if I didn’t have to pay for an ID that said I was twenty-one. I found a pack of smokes in the bag. Not even Hell bothered with that. Though, of course, there wasn’t a lighter, so apparently my benefactor expected me to just sniff the cigarettes. I pulled out a water gun, which I squirted in the palm of my hand. My flesh burned. The mystery benefactor loaded the gun with holy water.

  I left the alley and emerged into a commercial area. The city looked familiar; I just didn’t have a clue which city. I’d raised Hell in so many, I had a difficult time remembering them all. The remaining smoke from my eviction still clogged my brain, but I’d definitely been here before. I started down the street, which couldn’t have felt more barren if a tumbleweed drifted across my path. The time had to be well past midnight. I spotted a newspaper vending machine for the Raleigh News & Observer. Raleigh. The plot thickened.

  Raleigh used to be one of my main stomping grounds. Going by the date on the newspaper, I’d been down in Hell for only six years. Though, the way time went down there, six years felt like six hundred. Normally, I’d be thrilled to be back in the City of Oaks, but things were just too confusing at the moment.

  Now, where in Heaven did I leave my condo?

  I had a vague memory of my home being on Davie Street, so that seemed like a good place to start. If I could only find the blessed street. I stopped in front of a bar and approached a guy wearing his hat backwards like a total douche. Only the cigarette hanging out of his mouth granted him the pleasure of my company.

  I popped a smoke into my mouth. “Got a light?”

  The guy fished out a lighter and used it to light my cigarette.

  I took a long, glorious drag, the tar and nicotine like a breath of fresh air. “You know where Davie Street is?”

  He nodded to his right. “Two blocks that way.”

  I exhaled through my nostrils and headed for home.

  I’d barely crossed the street when the guy ran up to me.

  “Hey kid, you got a dollar?” he asked. “I just got out of jail and could use some help.”

  I tried not to laugh at him. “Sure. Next time you break the law…” I leaned in closer, “don’t get caught.”

  His face turned red, and he flicked his cigarette into the street. “You know, you’re right.”

  I heard the distinctive snick of a blade opening. This time, I couldn’t help laughing. “Seriously? You’re threatening me with that nail file?”

  “I’ll spill your guts all over the pavement,” he said. “Now give me your wallet before I make sure your mom can’t identify the body.”

  “Look at the ridiculous outfit I’m wearing,” I said, pulling on the hem of the shirt for his inspection. “Do you really think I have any money?”

  The switchblade shone under the streetlights. “Whatever you have is enough for me. Hand it over.”

  I hadn’t been back on Earth for thirty minutes and already one of its finest… citizens wanted to mug me. I’d missed this place. I guess I should’ve played nice―the mystery of my return held significantly more importance than this Hell-bound soul―but I couldn’t fight the urge to provoke him.

  “No.”

  The douche swung the blade at me.

  I caught his hand and squeezed. He screamed just before I heard his wrist snap. The knife fell to the ground.

  “What the Hell are you?” he cried, clutching his broken wrist.

  “Not someone you want to mess with,” I said, glancing down at his knife. I picked it up and used my thumb to bend the blade. “It’s funny. Mine’s bigger than yours.”

  I flipped the guy off, extending my fingernail into a sharp, brown blade.

  The blood drained from his face. “Oh my God.”

  “Wrong direction,” I said with a grin.

  The mugger ran away, tail tucked firmly between his legs. That would teach him to try to mug someone in white sneakers and a Tony Stewart shirt.

  I walked the two blocks and found myself back home at King Towers. The building oozed pretentiousness, just the way I liked it.

  The access card and key got me into my old condo. I coughed from the dust. I flipped the main power switch. Everything came on, including the TV.

  A religious show blared on the tube. Watching some televangelist preach irritated my eyes and ears but, thanks to years of practice, I could watch stuff like this
without any parts of my body catching fire. If my benefactor left it on that channel purposely, well, then, kudos to whomever. That would make an excellent trap for a lesser being than myself.

  I turned off the TV, set the remote on the kitchen island, and hopped in the shower. I needed to clean off the stench of smoke and second-hand clothes.

  I’d been hoping for some kind of instruction from my mystery benefactor, but when I got out of the shower, still no word. I had the nagging feeling this benefactor just made things up along the way.

  After wiping the condensation off the mirror, I sculpted my strawberry-blond hair into place and smoothed moisturizer over my blissfully ash-free skin. There were some designer clothes in the dresser. That was a relief. If I’d had to wear hand-me-downs while up here… I’d rather go back to Hell than endure that shame. In the kitchen, I grabbed the cellphone from the paper bag and dialed Pierce, one of my former comrades. I needed answers.

  Pierce did not sound happy about getting a call so early in the morning. “This better be good.”

  “Now is that any way to talk to a partner in crime?” I asked.

  His voice perked up. “Bartholomew? That you? I thought boss man sent you down for eternity?”

  “Me too. I was hoping you could shed some light on why I’m out.”

  Pierce remained silent for a moment. I almost asked him if he was still on the line when he finally spoke.

  “No clue,” Pierce said. “But I can make a few calls. Want me to come over?”

  “Sure.” I slid the phone onto the kitchen island and went onto the balcony to smoke.

  Twenty minutes later, Pierce burst through the door and accosted me with a bear hug. We were friends, sort of, but this still infringed on my comfort zone. I normally only allowed girls to get this close to me.

  “You want a kiss while we’re at it?” I asked him, taking a step back.

  After exchanging a few more pleasantries that only those comfortable with their deviant sexuality could exchange, we got down to business. I waited to see if any clouds of dust popped up when Pierce sat on the couch, but thankfully, none did. That would have been a little embarrassing.

  “It’s nice to see the crib held up during your absence,” Pierce said. His dark skin exaggerated the whiteness of his teeth.

  “Speaking of, why am I back?” I asked, taking my place across from him on the loveseat. “There’s no way my sentence would have been rescinded, so I’m here for a reason. Have you heard anything through the rumor mill?”

  Pierce shrugged. “I don’t really run in the same circles anymore.”

  Odd. We’d been running in those circles for several millennia. “Who do you run with now? Something big going down?”

  “Not that I know of,” he said, shaking his head, but his body had gone as stiff and unwilling as a virgin’s. He knew something.

  I got up and went to stand in front of the balcony doors. Why the cold shoulder? He knew I’d be the last to put an end to a little mischief.

  “Are you sure? I’d hate to stumble onto someone’s nefarious plan and ruin all the fun.” I laid my hand on the glass door, watching the sun come up.

  Pierce’s steps bounced off the hardwood floor behind me. “Don’t worry. You won’t ruin anything.”

  Before I could even see his reflection in the glass, Pierce had his hand around my throat, his nails extended into sharp knives that ripped into my flesh. Warm, black blood ran down my body and stained my white dress shirt.

  Thanks a lot, asshole.

  I extended my own nails and dug into his hand, trying to tear it from my neck.

  “Can’t have you messing up our plans,” Pierce snarled. “We have such grand designs for this world.”

  “I…help.” I struggled to pry his hand away. He wrapped his other arm around me. I tried in vain to twist free.

  “We don’t want your help.” He released his grip on my throat. The sound of searing flesh tipped me off. Pierce must’ve gotten something holy out of his pocket. “We just want to send your pale ass home.”

  His reflection in the glass door showed him clutching smoking rosary beads. I threw my hand up in front of my neck as the string of beads flew toward my throat.

  I didn’t expect a parade welcoming me back to Earth, but this? Completely uncalled for. Pierce had the advantage, and it would only be a matter of time before the beads tore through my fingers and, eventually, my neck. I needed to think fast. I placed my foot against the balcony door and thrust, sending the two of us against the kitchen island. Pierce’s grip on the beads loosened a little. I flipped us around and grabbed the remote control off the island.

  I turned on the TV. That same televangelist was on, preaching the Good Word. Pierce screamed. He lost his grip on me as he rubbed his smoking eyes and ears. I grabbed his face and flung him over my body onto the floor, the beads landing at my feet. My bag of goodies sat on the other side of the island. I ran over and tore it open, spinning the water gun onto the granite counter.

  Pierce got to his feet and charged after me. I pumped the water gun a few times and squeezed the trigger, shooting holy water into his mouth. He shrieked like a girl as the liquid tore through the back of his head, spilling blood everywhere.

  I ran for the rosary as he fell to his knees. Covering my hands with my sleeve cuffs, I threw the beads around his neck. After a few seconds, the water and beads burned through him. His head rolled down his back and came to a stop, face up, on the floor.

  Pierce’s dead body disappeared in a cloud of fire, sending his spirit back downstairs. I stared at the mess his spilt blood left on my floor. Bless it all. I wished the blood had disappeared too, but only the body and whatever was inside it will do that.

  Before I could think about whether the blood would stain my hardwood floor, the cellphone rang. The ringtone was AC/DC’s Hell’s Bells, a nice touch.

  “Hello, Bartholomew,” a female voice cooed as I held the phone up to my ear. “Raising any Hell?”

  “You wouldn’t believe,” I said. “By the by, if you’re the one who sent Pierce after me, it would be lovely if you’d come clean him up off the floor before he leaves a mark. I just got here, you know, and I’ve got places to see and virgins to do.”

  She laughed. “I didn’t send Pierce, but I did leave the bag.”

  “That was you? We must have a chat about your horrific taste in clothes.”

  The girl laughed. “Perhaps. I am glad to know you can take care of yourself, though. Now we can get started.”

  tarted on what?” I asked, staring at the pool of black blood on the floor. That mess was definitely going to stain.

  “Meet me at the Museum of Natural Sciences by the T. rex skeleton at ten.” She hung up without even saying goodbye. This chick sprung me out of Hell and didn’t have the common courtesy to say “bye” on the phone? I liked her already.

  I spent the downtime before meeting this mystery girl cleaning up my floor. After almost an hour of scrubbing, I finally managed to wipe Pierce off. His blood left a little discoloration on the wood. As long as nobody noticed, I supposed I could tolerate it. I changed into a navy suit and clean white dress shirt before leaving.

  The Museum of Natural Sciences had a massive globe out in front, part of some renovations they’d done a few years ago. I walked up to the third floor and into the Terror of the South exhibit that housed the T. rex. The skeleton hung by wires in a railed-off area, while the tail dangled over passersby. At the moment, there were only little kids running around with tired-looking teachers trying to corral the pint-sized buggers. I laughed to myself and leaned against the rails.

  Looking at the dinosaur, I couldn’t help but smile that some wackos actually thought these things were a hoax. I knew the truth. Even tried to wrestle a Triceratops once. Dinosaurs served as a nice distraction, but when they died out, the warring between Heaven and Hell became a near constant. I loved the fighting, but it did make an awful mess of things. The introduction of humans gave us a living
chessboard with which to do battle. An ingenious idea, really. Wish I’d thought of it.

  A girl of maybe sixteen with short, curly blonde hair stood next to me, admiring the T. rex. She wore a blue pastel skirt and a pink shirt. She seemed to ooze bubble gum and purity. Her goodness disgusted me. I loved it.

  “Amazing, isn’t it?” I said, turning to her with a devilish grin.

  She glanced at me, her gaze moving up and down my body. “It is.”

  “I like to imagine how hard a dinosaur like this one could hit a soccer ball with his tail. I bet the ball would explode on impact.”

  She examined the tail. “That, or the ball would go flying through a wall.”

  “He’d have been an amazing soccer player. Though I wonder if eating the other team would result in a red card.”

  The girl smiled, revealing blindingly white teeth. “At the very least, he’d get a yellow card.”

  “I’m Bartholomew,” I said, extending my hand.

  “Samantha.” She glanced at my hand, but didn’t shake it. Odd.

  Her voice sounded very familiar. Was she the girl on the phone?

  “This may seem out of left field, but were we supposed to meet here? I’m meeting someone for sort of a blind date at”—I glanced at my Tag Heuer watch—“ten and I’m very much hoping it’s you.”

  Samantha blushed. “Well, I—”

  Something behind her caught my eye. I held up a finger. “Hang on a second.”

  An angry-looking teenage boy with a crew cut stared at us from across the exhibit. He’d stuffed his hands so far down his pockets it looked like he was playing with himself.

  “Is that your boyfriend over there? He looks a little jealous.”

  Samantha turned to get a look at him. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

  I tried to hide my disappointment. I’d hoped to reduce someone to tears during my stay topside. A boyfriend would’ve been perfect, but I could work with a complete stranger. The boy walked toward us, his eyes narrowed.

  Whoever this was, he seemed to have it in for me. I loved it when humans tried to act tough in front of me. It always ended poorly for them. At least, most of the time.