Tim Pratt - Sympathy for the Devil

Zin Zan picked it up. “Because Hell is filled to overflowing, sir, and Satan needs the room. He plans to re-populate the Earth with the fallen.”

I didn’t know about the others but I was so embarrassed by the direction this conversation was taking that I could only stare at the floor and hope those Brothers would evaporate by the time I looked up again.

“So you’re saying that if I was bad and die now, there’s no room for me in Hell and I may end up back here living next door?” Vito said in a voice full of “you gotta be shittin’ me.”

My eyes still down, I heard Zin Zan’s thick accent field the question. “Why do you think the world’s in such bad straits, sir? New fatal diseases being discovered every day, crime the likes of which defy human imagination. How do you explain people’s vast and unfailing indifference to one another?

“Because so many of them are dead. They have no souls. This has been going on for some time. The dead bring death back with them when they return to Earth.”

What can you say to something looney-tuney like that? I felt like taking a nap. I felt like getting up from where I was sitting, maybe or maybe not giving a wave to everyone in the room, and walking right out of there into the bedroom and my pillow and about an hour nighty-night. My brain felt tired and like it had had something lousy and too heavy for lunch.

“Yeah? Well prove it, Brothers.” Dennis spoke like he was spitting and said that last word like a Black soul brother. You know, he said it “bruddas” and there wasn’t any respect in the word.

Not that it touched the Heidelberg Cylinder boys. They smiled on like two Ken dolls on a date with Barbie. Brooks politely asked, “What do you mean, sir?”

Dennis pointed an “it’s your fault” finger at him and shook it. “You know exactly what I mean. Guys like you have been coming to my door for years, talking about how the world’s gonna end tomorrow. God’s gonna kick my butt for sinning unless I repent. Armageddon’s coming so watch out! Well you know what? Arma-geddon pretty damned sick of hearing that stuff from your like. If you think you’re so right about what you’re saying, prove it. That’s all-show us it’s true. You say the Devil’s on Earth moving dead people out of their houses? Show me!”

Vito put a thumbs up. “I agree! Show me too!”

I kind of felt like doing it too. I myself was sick of gleamy-eyed wackos coming to my house with their cheap pamphlets and “God’s-gonna-get-you” threats. Having the big fat nerve to tell me I’d done everything wrong with my life. And I’d better start dancing to their tune or else. Oh yeah? How do you know; you been watching my every move?

What I resented most was how damned sure people like this were that they were right. Hey, maybe they were, but how could they be so convinced? I admit I wasn’t sure of anything in life, much less how His Majesty upstairs in heaven makes things work. But at least I admit it. Listening to these dudes talk, or others like them who’d appeared over the years with their own smudged magazines and weird smiles, God was as easy to understand as the baseball scores.

“Well?”

The not-so Righteous Brothers blinked at the same time and smiled again. But kept their traps shut.

“Huh? Can you prove you’re right? Or are you going to tell me to wait till Judgment Day rolls around to find out?”

“Oh no sir, we can show you right now. That’s not a problem.” Brooks spoke and his voice was nice as rice. I mean he spoke like what Dennis had just asked was the easiest favor in the world to grant. You want me to show you Satan? You want me to open up the back of the big clock and show you how it ticks? Follow me, sir-this way to Satan. Just like that. Simple.

“What the fuck are you guys talking about?”

Rae caught her breath hearing my words, but I couldn’t help myself. I was suddenly as hot and sizzling as a frying chicken. I didn’t like where this conversation was going. And I sure didn’t believe what was just said. All eyes were on me like the kid who just farted in class. Dennis and Vito’s faces said ha-ha, but Rae’s was uh-oh because she knows my temper. The Brothers were calm as usual.

“You can sit there with a straight face and say you’ll show me Satan this minute?”

“We can show you proof, sir. All the proof you’ll need. We just have to go up to Pilot Hill.”

“What’s on Pilot Hill?”

“The proof you want.”

“What proof?”

The brothers stood up. “We can go right now. We’ll give you a thousand dollars each if you’re not happy with our proof.”

The room went stone quiet for the second time in ten minutes.

Rae said in a wiggly voice, “A thousand dollars?”

“Oh yes, ma’am. We have no desire to waste your valuable time.” Brooks reached into his pocket and pulled out a roll of bills as thick as a Big Mac. So help me God, that man’s hands contained more cash than I’d ever seen one person hold, outside of a bank teller.

Vito whistled one note low and asked what I’m sure we were all wondering: “How much you got there?”

Brooks looked at his hand. “I think ten thousand dollars. How much do you have, Brother Zin Zan?”

Zin stuck out his lower lip and nodded. “Ten thousand.” He patted his pocket.

“Each of you guys is carrying ten grand?” Dennis’s amazed voice cracked halfway through the sentence.

“That’s the way we do things in our organization, sir. We want you to be happy with your decision, one way or the other.”

Vito stood right up. “Well, I just made my decision-let’s go!”

Dennis too. “I’m with you. Pilot Hill, here we come.”

Rae looked at me and then stood up slowly. The Brothers did too. Only I stayed where I was sitting. To emphasize that fact even more I crossed my arms and went humph.

“What’s the matter, Bill?”

“You know damn well what the matter is, Rae! This whole thing is nuts. The three of you are going out the door with these screwballs because they dangled some free money in front of you. Dangled but didn’t give. Well how about this: I’ll come too if you give me my thousand dollars right now, Brothers. Not later-this second. I’ll give it back to you when we get there if I’m so convinced you’re right.”

“I’m fine with that, sir. It’s no problem,” Brooks said and without one second’s hesitation peeled ten crisp new hundred-dollar bills off his Big Mac. “Here you go.” He crossed the room and handed them to me.

“Hey, I want mine too if he’s getting his now!”

“Me too.”

“Yes, me too please.” Rae said that. She is a shy, kind woman who doesn’t even complain when someone big steps on her toe at the market. But now here she was wanting her thousand dollars up front just like everyone else. I was setting a bad example, but at least we were all a thousand dollars richer for it.

Then an evil thought came riding in. I looked suspiciously at the money in my hand. Maybe it was too fresh, too new? Was real money really that green? “How do we know this isn’t fake? That it’s not counterfeit or something?”

Brother Zin Zan was counting off hundreds while Brooks was handing Vito his share. “Oh we can stop at a bank on the way and have it checked if you like. But I guarantee you it’s real.”

I looked at my money like it might have something to say. This whole thing was so crazy, why shouldn’t we just accept it at face value? Four thousand dollars was being handed out in that room and everyone was as cool as cucumbers about it. Like it happened to us every day and now was just the payoff hour. Rae wore a smile that was somewhere between happiness and crime.

“How do you want to go over there?”