John Jackson - The 9th Fortress

As expected, Missy's fury could not be contained. "That’s if he even makes it to the prison! The Distinct Earth has its own dangers, as does the journey through Hell! Oceans of fire, deserts of plague, alien life forms, and agents of evil everywhere! It cannot be done!"

"Please!" I begged, holding my pounding forehead. "You’re not helping!"

"This prisoner must be important!" she bellowed back. "Tell me, who is it?"

Newton remained unflappable. "Your emotion is quite understandable, Missy dear. After all, your love for this man is unconditional. You are deeply afraid for him, as well you should be."

Stuttering and teary, my life support turned from us, concealing those emotions behind her hands.

"I can only share the cell number," said Newton, hoping to see the cherub's face again. "Cell number 2020, and his or her identity must remain a mystery for the time being. It would be hazardous for Daniel to know more at this juncture. Yes, extremely."

That incessant drone made conversation for the time being as I attempted to grasp at madness. The Waiting Plain was colder now, and the hairs on my arms prickled up like solders in attention. Was it really the cold? I strolled around the Plain between Sir Isaac Newton and Missy, slapping my cheeks and thinking things over. Distinct Earth…Hell…9th Fortress…bronze swordsman, and agents of evil?

"It's not the cold," said Missy, sighing. "That's fear, Daniel. Finally, some sense from you."

"Something confuses me,” I said, ignoring that churn in my stomach. "If I’m dead now, how can I die again?"

The mellow-faced Englishman appeared relieved to be taking the subject away from the 9th Fortress, if only to avoid further upset to Missy. "A soul cannot die, Daniel, but the body can. Perish in the realms of the afterlife, and your light vacates the body, snatching the shelter of any form near it, be that a grain of dirt or a scuttling rat. This is known as the second death, and what a random and unenviable process it is. My best advice would be to take care of the body you have; it is the only one you have left. Do you understand me?

I nodded. "Understood, and I appreciate your concern Missy, but this is something I have to do.”

“Sir Isaac," I announced, facing him, "I will do what God has asked of me."

Missy swooped to my face now, absolutely beside herself. "You naïve fool! Think you can take on the whole wide world, do you? You are so blind! So silly and ignorant! The logic you spoke of earlier is turned on its head the second you leave me! You know nothing of the peril that awaits, absolutely nothing at all. Do you understand me?!"

"Calm yourself!" Newton pleaded. "This will do no good, angel, no good at all. Missy, this is a decision for Daniel to make, he needs advice from his support, not a lecture."

The girl’s fury frittered away as soon as it had arrived, and she sobbed against my chest. Shocked to see so much passion for me, I stroked the fluffy feathers connected to her back.

"Missy is correct," said Newton, "there is a great deal you have yet to learn. However the task is not an impossible one. True, you may never make it back here, so it is not a decision to be made lightly. Pray, consider your options. If you accept and bring prisoner 2020 to me, then you will rest with your daughter in peace. If not, then your case will go through the usual channels."

Mouth dry, I choked for a moment. "Why me?" I asked, rather, I begged

"Why do I get the honor of meeting you and having this chance? I'm a normal guy; there's nothing special here. I didn't save anyone's life or even do much with my own! I am greedy, selfish, and weak like everybody else! Why me?"

Missy separated herself from my chest and dried her eyes. It was obvious to her what was so special about this soul, but she expected everyone else to see it.

Sir Isaac Newton came closer to the both of us, wearing a confident grin.

"Why not you?" he said. "If at first the idea does not sound absurd, then there is no hope for it. Whatever you think, Danny, no matter how insane this opportunity may seem today, tomorrow clear light will shine upon God's apparent madness. We are, all of us, standing on the shoulders of a giant. I sense a decision has been reached?"

He was right. This was not a choice; it was my ticket. I could wait here in the plain, and be judged in full and proper time, but would that eventual verdict go my way? I couldn't risk it, and I definitely couldn't wait for it.

"I talked to Kathy," said Newton suddenly, "shortly before arriving here. You have a bright girl there. Very bright indeed." His wise blue eyes became a cinema, flickering back wonderful images of Kathy’s mousy hair and shy smile, filling me up with equal measure of sadness and joy. "She hopes," he added with care, "that you have forgiven him. Do you know what this means?"

My head became heavy all of a sudden, my brain disturbed by a deceased daughter's unexpected wish. "I know what that means," I mumbled back. "She wants me to forgive the man who killed her."

"And do you?" he asked, intrigued.

Like lingering vomit at the back of my mouth, my face contorted at the thought.

"It's too soon," Missy answered for me.

It was too soon, and the elderly man seemed to accept that. "She asked me to tell you one more thing." he said, and hungrily I gazed at him. "That she loves you very much."

This was my fuel, confidence and determination in one sentence. Once again, I felt my life support's heartache, for she had lost me to the 9th Fortress.

"When do I leave?" I asked. "Now? Right now? I’m ready."

"First and foremost," said Newton, "you will need a guide. This is no journey one can take alone. You will need a man of experience!"

"That’s right," said Missy, properly. "If he’s going, then I’ll be damned if he’s going alone. I doubt you will find a more suitable guide than you, Sir Isaac. This would ease my mind."

His black hat bobbled as he chuckled. "I am a physicist, Missy, and a very old physicist! No, no, I have a far more suitable candidate in mind, a man extremely qualified for the job. A most exceptional human being." Sir Isaac Newton directed his long finger toward: "The samurai…"

Slouched on another block of stone was a bulky Japanese man. Somewhere in his fifties, his hair was oily black with lightning streaks of grey, and a top knot held it all at the back. His face was scar-ridden and sour, with a pair of brows shrouding his eyes in perpetual shade, occasionally revealing the odd bead of twinkling white amongst pools of darkness. He brooded still in his position, resting a stubbly chin on his clenched fist. He was dressed in a heavy-looking red armor with solid vertical plates around the torso, and was armed with two deadly-looking swords: a long katana by his left leg, and a shorter, what I later discovered to be a wakizashi, thrust down the front of his waist belts. Missy and I examined this smoldering beast in wonderment, his presence eclipsing Newton’s. He was Caesar, he was Alexander, he was Samson and Hercules combined. The samurai knew he was being watched but remained placid on his rock; he was a granite statue, not acknowledging our presence, nor caring for it.

"My goodness!" said Missy, star-struck. "My goodness gracious!"

"Danny!" said Newton, enthusiastically. "It is my great pleasure to introduce to you to Kat." On hearing his name, Kat still did not respond. "A samurai warrior from sixteenth century Japan," continued the scientist. "You are arguably looking at one of the most dangerous men in the whole of Earth’s troubled history."

Finally now, this Kat gave our trio the honor of his troubled gaze and husky sound. "Arguably?" he sneered.

The hairs on the back of my neck instantly stood on end as I floundered in that man's scowl, his eyes inspiring a rotting sickness in the core of my guts. Passing us a last look of inadequacy, Kat turned his head to one side, muttering profanities under his breath. This man of experience was not impressed, not by me, not by Newton, not by anyone.