mother.
4
Erik and Dovecrest joined hands and stood beside the altar, while Mark and the soldiers stood back and out of the way, just in case the portal tried to draw them in.
“Are you ready?” Dovecrest asked.
“Yes,” Erik said. He didn’t want to wait another minute. He needed to do something and do it now. He’d already done too much waiting for one day.
“All right,” the Indian said. “It may take a few minutes to prepare the way. But when it happens, we’ll know. We jump onto the altar together and go through.”
“I’m ready.”
Dovecrest began a low, melodic chant in his native language. At first the chant was so subtle that Erik thought the man was humming, and thought it odd. But gradually the pitch and volume increased and it turned from a hum into a song. Erik couldn’t understand the words, or even the meaning, but he found the cadence and rhythm comforting, somehow, as if this were a familiar song he had heard since he was a child. He closed his eyes and tried to relax. If this worked, he’d need all of his strength and all of his wits. He still wasn’t sure how they’d destroy the demon when they found it, and Dovecrest had done his best to avoid all mention of that subject. It was as if he himself didn’t know.
But Erik knew they couldn’t do anything until they passed this first test and actually crossed over into the demon’s realm. He wondered if it were really hell, or just a different world, or a different reality. He’d never quite thought of hell as having a portal connecting it with this world. Apparently, though, those devil worshippers from colonial times had created just such a portal, a gate. A gateway to hell.
He felt the Indian’s voice growing stronger, more confident, and he felt the real world beginning to dissolve around him. Once it began, it happened quickly. He opened his eyes and saw the altar clouding over with a smooth, gray mist.
Dovecrest squeezed his hand.
“Now,” he said, reverting to English as he stopped his chant.
The two men jumped onto the altar. Erik felt its solid, rocky surface beneath his feet, but only for a moment. Then the very rock itself began to transform. First it turned rubbery, as if he were standing on the surface of a jogging track that had been covered with that cork-like rubbery substance designed to absorb shock. Then it became even more spongy; he felt his feet sink in more deeply. He had his eyes open but couldn’t see anything through the haze.
It seemed that sound had not become nonexistent also. It felt like he was inside a hollow chamber and insulated from all noise. Even if he tried to talk he suspected his voice would just not exist here. It was if he were entering some gigantic vacuum.
He looked over at Dovecrest but could not see the man, even though their hands were still tightly locked. Then the very rock beneath them disappeared. The solid bottom dropped away and the very ground beneath his feet was gone and he began to fall.
PART THREE: INFERNO
Abandon hope all ye who enter here.
To bottomless perdition, there to dwell
In adamantine chains and penal fire.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
1
Todd could not believe the emptiness of this place. It was as if he were the only living thing in the universe. He thought he’d wind up next to his Mom and that the demon would be waiting for him. But there was no one, nothing in sight. Only that awful rock-the same stuff the altar was made of-and it went on forever.
It was hot-but this was not the broiling hot fiery place he’d been taught about in Sunday school. There weren’t any people running around on fire, and there were no red devils poking people with pitchforks. It felt more like he was on the moon than in hell. He’d thought this place would be full of people, but it looked like he was the only one here.
“Hello?” He called, hoping to hear his mother’s voice. Even the sight of the demon would have been welcome at this point, he thought. He could speak, but it was like yelling into a vacuum. The sound just didn’t carry very far.
He decided that he’d better move somewhere. He’d never find his mother standing here on the rocks wondering what to do next. There really was just one way to go, and that was down. The whole thing reminded him of a program he’d seen on television about ant lions, which were bugs that made a big funnel-shaped trap in the sand. When an ant came by it would fall into the tunnel and the ant lion would eat it.
He wondered if this place was like that-a giant trap to catch you when you went down to the center. He supposed if that were the case it was already too late. He couldn’t see any other way to go but down.
There was no path, but it was easy to navigate. The only landmark was the cherry-red mouth-like opening at the bottom, and that lit up everything with just enough light to see by. The slope definitely headed downward, but not so steep that he’d have to worry about falling. His mother was down there somewhere with that awful demon. Todd wasn’t sure what he’d do when he found them, but he’d already committed to this by jumping through the gate, so he guessed he’d figure it out as he went along.
He slowly made his way down the rocky surface. Actually, as he went lower the thing did get steeper, and the volcanic rock was shinny, sleek and slippery. Its jagged edges did give him plenty of footholds, but they also cut into his hands and feet.
As he approached the large center opening, Todd became away of two things. First there was the overwhelming sense of loneliness and aloneness. He had never, ever been this alone in his life. His parents or an adult was always nearby. Even if he were alone in his room, he knew his mother or father were in the house, usually in the room next door. Any cry of help would be immediately heard and they would come to him. He’d almost felt this way when he was lost in the woods. But that had been different, too, because there had been sounds. Birds, crickets, and even the sound of the wind. And he’d felt that awful voice calling for him. No, he hadn’t really been alone that night. At least the thing hadn’t gotten back into his head.
The second thing he became aware of was the smell. It was a weird smell, and not altogether unpleasant-it wasn’t anything like the smell of burning flesh that he’d smelled lately, and it didn’t come close to that awful reek that the demon gave off. Just the thought of it made him want to throw up again. This was different. It was a little sickening, like the small of moldy fruit. But it was also a little sweet and pleasant, like a ripe coconut that had just been cut open. It wasn’t either of those things, really, but it was close. He just thought it odd that hell would smell
