Dead Again

Zach is an amoral opportunist with a conscience.

I lived fast and it all ended when I ran into the back of a truck. Looked like it was time for ole Satan to call in his marker.

Things looked different this time, well they didn't look like anything because I floated in total blackness. I knew it was hell though because the heat was unbelievable... hotter than before. I roasted there for a while then the dreams started.

Way back when, Earth had three world wars, I was in all of them. It was during the second one that this happened. We were on an island, five of us scoutin it out for a possible forward post. We'd been there a little while when we heard some noise down at the beach. Turned out to be a landing party of the enemy, about twenty of them. We found ourselves a place to hide and laid low hoping they'd pass on soon.

We were plenty scared but this one fella, we called him Little John, was about to go over the edge. I kept my eye on him, I'd been keepin my eye on him since we met. He was one of them fellas that wasn't meant for war but he joined up anyway because his daddy was a war hero. He looked sickly and couldn't get the idea of being in combat. If nobody kept an eye on him, told him when to get down, when to shoot and when to run, he'd have been dead the first time out. Thing was, he would have gotten others dead, too, so I was the nobody that kept an eye on him.

Well, we were layin in some bushes on that damn island when Little John starts to moanin, "We're gonna die... we're gonna die..." over and over. I told him to shut up and he did for a bit then the moanin started up again. I moved over and whispered in his ear, "Yer gonna get us killed, Little John. Shut up and we'll get out of this." His eyes were crazy and he kept on moanin so I put my hand over his mouth. Well, this really set him off and he started thrashin around and screamin under my hand. I pinned him down and said, "I'm gonna get you out of this John. I'm gonna get you out of this." The craziness got worse so I cut his throat. All of a sudden he got real peaceful, his eyes were so sad as the life leaked out of them. Those eyes lived in my mind for years and now they tormented me in hell.

When I became numb to the suffering of killing Little John a new dream began.

It was war again, don't remember when or where. Our platoon leader was a young feller that everybody called Cowboy because he was wild and reckless. If you're askin me, he gave cowboys a bad name he was that stupid, worst part was he was from New York City. He always volunteered for the toughest missions and he always screwed them up. Thing was, he'd always meet his objective, but men died when they didn't have to. Didn't matter too much to the brass, they kept lettin him volunteer.

Then we got into a real mess. Cowboy volunteered us to take a mountain pass, recon said they were bunkered down on both sides where the pass narrowed. Anyone trying to get through that pass would be moving into crossfire from above. When Cowboy briefed us on the mission the trouble began, his plan was going to get a lot of men killed for no reason.

I knew it wasn't going to do any good but I had to give it a try, I went to Cowboy's tent that night when everyone else was busy with their own things. He didn't look too happy to see me, I had an idea he knew what was on my mind. "Look, Cowboy, I studied them maps, I think I got a way to get the job done without a lot of men dying." He didn't listen, just told me he knew what he was doing and to get out. I got out. For the first time, I actually listened to the men talk about killing "that stupid son of a bitch".

We were watching the pass in the rain and once more I tried to reason with Cowboy. "Look, sir..." and I pointed out my plan. He shrugged me off and barked out, "Deacon, Martins, you're up!" I grabbed his arm, "Those men are going to die and a bunch more if we do it your way." He snarled at me, "Get your hand off me or I'll have you shot." So I shot him.

Dreamin about Little John and Cowboy in hell made me mad. I wasn't going to suffer for killing damn fools that needed it. Killing them saved lives and I wasn't about to be punished for that. I shouted out, "Alright, what do I have to do this time?" Next thing I knew I was standing before ole Satan up on his throne, "You're going to have to do more, this time, Zach." I figgered as much, "Who do you want me to kill?" I didn't care, if God was going to play dirty so was I.

His name was Hiram Crane and he ran a mission for down-and-outers. It wasn't a big mission and it wasn't well-known or anything but he was doing something there that was making ole Satan nervous. Best way I could figure to find out what was goin on there was to go get helped.

Down-and-out was a second skin to me so it was pretty easy to get into the part. I stumbled into Hiram's mission reeking of booze in clothes that smelled even worse. A pleasant woman asked me if I wanted something to eat. I nodded and she got me a bowl of stew and some bread and led me to a table. The food was ok and nobody bothered me. I ate and left. Two days later I was back and pretty much the same thing happened, only it was soup and a sandwich. Then I went on a Sunday.

The bums were eating like usual but this time there was an air in the room, like everyone was expectin something good to happen. Nobody left after they ate, just sat there waiting. And then Hiram Crane came in. The faces of the bums lit up the minute he came into the room and I could see why. He was a big man, rugged and kinda rough lookin, the kinda guy you wouldn't want to tangle with. But his manner didn't match his looks, he was soft-spoken and gentle. Seemed like he knew just about every bum in the room, he'd shake their hand, call them by name and ask about them. Like, "How are you, James, how's the leg today?" and "Missed you last week, Robert, are you well?" The bums ate it up, you could see they were starved for attention and Hiram's little greetings probably made their whole week.

Then ole Hiram began to preach and I knew why Satan wanted him dead.

"I know you." Hiram Crane began in his soft-spoken way. His eyes were intense as he gazed at each of us then he continued, "I don't just know your names and the things I learned about you as we talked, I know your lives. I know you because I was one of you."

"I was a successful businessman with a beautiful family and things were fine for a while. Then I moved up in the company, more work, more responsibilities, the kids were getting older, more worries, and the stress began to get to me. I started drinking, at first a drink or two when I got home but soon I was going to work drunk, coming home drunk and staying drunk pretty much all the time. I got fired, my wife left me and I lost everything I had. And there I was just like you, living on the streets looking for my next drink. I'd be there today if not for what happened three years ago."

"I was stumbling down a street, hitting people up for change when I came to one man. 'Spare change?' I asked, 'I haven't eaten in two days.' He gave me a sad sort of smile, 'Come with me, I will see that you are fed.' I was disappointed, I wanted the money for booze, but I was hungry so I followed him. We went into a diner and he told me to order anything I wanted, so I did. I hadn't eaten like that in years. He never said a word, just watched me eat with this sad smile on his face. I couldn't help wondering what he wanted from me so I asked. 'You are hungry, I fed you. It is what Jesus would want. He thinks of you often, Hiram.' and the man got up and walked away. I was surprised by his words and his sudden departure but mostly because he knew my name so I went after him. I saw him go through the door and I went out right after him, he was nowhere to be seen."

Now he looked around the room again, "A messenger of God, sent to me to give me a second chance. I took that chance and my left has been blessed ever since. I still have hard times like anyone else but I don't have to go it alone. I have a purpose for my life now, no more of the aimless drifting through a fog of booze and hunger just waiting for the day when I die. I have a purpose now," and he pointed straight at me, "and so can you!"

Well after that he gave the old come-to-Jesus and they came, most of them came and the ones who didn't were up congratulating the ones who did. It was clear Satan had lost a few souls that morning.

The next couple weeks were pretty much the same, nourishing food and Hiram's sermon on Sundays telling the bums there was hope for their lives. Seemed a bit too good for me so I did some poking around, I suppose I was looking for a reason to kill him. Denise was one of the women that worked there and I talked to her one day, "How come Hiram's never down here except on Sundays?" She smiled, "He works, dear." I asked what he did and she told me he worked at the steel mills. Least he made an honest living but I had more questions, "What do they pay him for coming down here?" She kind of laughed this sad little laugh, "Pay? Dear, he pays for all this himself. He works all night and then early in the morning comes down here to get things started. When we get here he goes to this horrible little room at the Y and sleeps until its time to go to work." That shut me up.

It shut me up but it didn't satisfy me so I started following Hiram around. When Sunday ended and Hiram left the mission I wasn't far behind him. Denise was right so far because he went into a room at the Y and stayed there until midnight. When he came out he was dressed for dirty work and he took a bus to the mills. When he came out he went to the mission then back to the Y. The whole week was like that until Saturday. I followed him down to the red-light district and sure enough he started talking to a whore, even handed her some money. They walked past a seedy hotel and went into a diner and he bought her breakfast. The whole day went like that, him buying whores and druggies something to eat. When it got late he went back to the Y.

I followed Hiram like that for a month and it never changed, he really was a good man. That's why I was still dreaming about Hiram because I found nothing to fault him for. I went to hear Hiram preach one more Sunday and when it was time to come down and be saved I went down. It always pleased ole Hiram so much to see one of us turn our lives over to God. It was the least I could do, because when he left that night I shot him.

Excerpt from The Godz of Earth by S.E.Estes