Judgment (Game of Lords Book 3), page 23
He went over to an empty table and sat down. The room was full. James remembered Cindy, the administrator, had told him 244 people were living there, and James was surprised they were all present and accounted for. He scanned the room. Who are all these people? I wonder what they did to end up here?
Out of the corner of his eye James noticed someone walking toward him and turned. It was the woman who helped him yesterday, holding a tray of food.
She said, “Hi, James. Remember me? Ellen.”
“Oh, hi. Yes, I remember you.”
“Do you mind if I join you?”
“Sure, go ahead.” James motioned for her to join him.
She sat down, smiled briefly, then bowed her head, silently whispering a short prayer. When she finished, she began to eat her breakfast. After chewing for a moment, she swallowed and asked, “So, James, where are you from?”
“Uhh, well, I’m from New York. Born and raised… and died, I guess.”
Ellen laughed. “I’ve never heard it put quite like that. Forgive me for laughing, but it sounds very funny.”
James was amused by his guest, though he rarely had any interest, much less time, to talk to people during his hectic days as a selfish mob lawyer. She intrigued him. He asked, “Where are you from?”
“I am from Montreal. Born in Quebec, raised in Montreal, and unfortunately, died in Montreal.” She lowered her head, obviously saddened at her death.
“I am sorry,” said James. “What happened to you? I mean, if you don’t mind me asking.”
Ellen wiped a small tear from the side of her cheek. “I umm… was killed in a car accident when I was forty-seven years old.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Hey, look on the bright side, you’re alive again.” James was doing his best. He was surprised that his conversation was lasting so long. It was way longer than any of the short, impersonal ones he was used to on Earth.
Ellen said, “Yes, I am glad for that. And I am glad for the mercy of the Lords in giving me a chance to amend my life. I really am.”
“Why are you here?”
“James, umm, perhaps I will share that with you someday but not right now. Let’s just say there are some good reasons, some very good reasons.”
“Oh, sure, I understand.”
They talked for a little while longer and quietly ate their meals. A bell rang, and everyone rose to their feet and brought their trays and dishes to the return area. Then they all headed out the front door.
“Hey, where’s everyone going?” he asked.
“They are going to the morning church service.”
“What?” James said as he watched everyone filing out past him. “Is this mandatory?”
Ellen replied, “Technically you don’t have to go, but as the guidelines say, ‘it helps.’”
The corners of James’ lips turned down as he looked again at everyone filing out. “Ellen, I have not been to church in ages. I would prefer not to go.”
“That is up to you, James. But if you like, you can sit with me. It’s very nice.”
He looked at her kind eyes and considered her request, then looked again to the people, almost all out of the room. He said, “All right, I’ll go.”
Chapter 11
James followed Ellen out the front door and down the pathway to the main path that led beyond the church's nearby hills. The slightly misty morning air gave him an eerie feeling.
As they crested a nearby hill, James had a clear view of the church, sitting on top of a large hill. Its steeple rose high into the air and was brilliantly illuminated by a sliver of the morning sun breaking through the clouds. James and Ellen strolled down the path, bringing up the rear of the thousands of people from the surrounding houses. The morning air was brisk and it reminded James of a morning in late October, furthering the eerie feeling he had.
As they drew near the entrance, James took notice of the ancient-looking, stone architecture. He imagined an old, dull interior and was astonished as he walked through the door to see the ancient exterior give way to a stunning, colorful, and sunlit interior. Two thousand people were sitting in pews, waiting quietly. It was the most immense gathering of churchgoers James had ever seen. He was amazed that the building did not look that large on the outside but was so spacious on the inside.
Ellen grabbed James by the arm and led him up the center aisle all the way to the front. She asked some people in the pew to move down and make some room. They sat down.
James had not imagined sitting in the front, but he was glad they did. The altar was spectacular. At the back, a large cross was affixed to the wall. As he gazed at the impressive cross, James saw his life flash before his eyes. Memories of childhood flooded back to him. He remembered attending Mass with his mother and grandmother. He remembered the pipe organ's sound and the choir's melodic voices he so loved as a boy. His grandmother had always sat proudly in the first pew with James by her side. Now, here he sat in the first pew, but he was “dead.”
A bell rang and a man and a woman, clothed in priestly garb, came out of the sanctuary door. As they entered, everyone rose to their feet and broke out in a resounding song, and the service began. It felt very much like the services he had attended as a child. There were a few readings from the Bible, then there was offertory, and finally, the priest blessed bread and wine for distribution. James was amazed. It all felt like the old days. Days and times he had not thought important, and yet here they were, being conducted much the same, on the other side.
Many times during the service he found himself tearing up. His Angel, Mercio, had been right. He had wasted his life on Earth. As they walked home from the service, James began to understand that the idea of a second chance, of a being in the Land of Reform, was not such a bad thing. It was all starting to appeal to him.
~ ~ ~ ~
Later that night, James sat on the edge of his bed, thinking. He used to sit on his bed, thinking like this the night before trial appearances, but tonight was different. There was no trial. There was only his newfound imprisonment. He thought about the day, the people, the church, and Ellen. He was trying to piece it all together, to understand his predicament. A little voice in his head still tried to tell him he might be dreaming, but the odds of that seemed to be vanishing.
He opened the patio door and stepped out onto the balcony. Before him lay a darkened land with no lights. It was vastly different than the Manhattan skyline and busy New York streets he was used to. The never-ending view into darkness was quiet and still, devoid of any life other than the life his fellow inmates were all participating in. He wondered why they were all going along with everything. He wondered why there were no revolts, no uprisings, no defiance. Perhaps there were, and he had not seen it yet.
He looked up into the sky, the only place where there was anything to see. The stars were there, and while he was not used to watching them in his days on Earth, now it was all he had. Suddenly he stopped. Wait! Is that? He realized the stars looked familiar. He was no expert, but he remembered and made out many of the constellations he knew from Earth. He began to murmur aloud with excitement. “Yes, it is true. There is the Big Dipper… and over there is the Little Dipper.” He went on, seeing and naming more constellations.
Then, his lawyer's mind kicked in. He pondered, How can I possibly see these from here if Earth is somewhere else? Earth must be near. Maybe there is a way out of here after all.
His thoughts were interrupted. In the distance he heard noises, no, voices. He tuned his vision in more keenly. The noises were faint, but they were human. They were screams, and ones filled with terror. James focused his hearing, straining, and they became clearer still. What the Hell is that?
When he realized what it might be, his blood curdled right where he stood, and his heart sank as he felt the hair on the back of his neck raise up.
The sounds were coming from the south. He quickly went back inside, put his shoes on, and took off down the hall, down the stairs, and out the front door. At a quickened pace, he jogged alone in the dark, cold night, his heart pounding loudly. He stopped to listen, and then he heard them again. This time they were louder. James ran, but then he stopped for a moment, thinking, suddenly afraid to find out what they were. He considered turning around. Fear tried to dominate his will, but he decided he had to see what it was.
He kept going, following the cries in the night. Within twenty minutes, he found himself running up an incline. He stopped halfway up to rest for a moment and again contemplated turning back. His breathing was heavy. The screams were coming from the other side of the hill.
Fearful, he looked up to the top of the hill and saw a glow as if from a large forest fire. The hill was too steep to run anymore so he walked, slipping and falling several times. Soon he was half walking, half crawling toward the top of the hill. As he neared the top, he saw hundreds of people lined up. All of them were peering over the edge of what looked like a cliff. It was as if they were at a tourist attraction. But the distant screams signaled this was no place for tourists.
A few more labored, frightful steps, and he was at the top, where a startling scene greeted him. The onlookers were indeed standing at the edge of a cliff. There was no other side to the hill. They were all looking at a fiery desolate plateau of land in the distance. When he looked down, all he could see was a great chasm between where he stood and the fiery land beyond. He had never seen a landscape like this on Earth. It seemed to be several miles away but was illuminated by the glowing flames.
Then they started again. The moans, cries, and shrieks of people, sending shivers through his entire body. Are these the cries of the damned? The sound of men and women crying out in despair was too much to bear. He closed his eyes and shook his head. Why am I not over there with them? I deserve to be over there with them.
When he opened his eyes and looked down to the plateau, he could make out the fuzzy outlines of crowds of men and women, all in agony, all being tormented and herded by cruel-looking Angels holding spears and what looked like pitchforks. Again, he had to look away, unable to handle the sight of people who were forever damned.
James turned to the woman standing next to him and asked, “Is that Hell?”
She slowly turned her head, looked at him somberly, and said, “Yes, that it is Hell.”
Chapter 12
James stumbled back home from the chasm in stunned disbelief. The shrill cries of the men and women condemned to Hell haunted his every step. He feared he would never be able to forget what he had heard and seen. He wondered about people like Bobby Massiano and wondered if he had already been killed like Baxter said they were going to do. For a moment, James wondered if Bobby was over there in Hell. Of course, Bobby is in Hell. He was a lot worse than me. James stopped walking and shuddered, picturing Bobby’s tortured face, screaming in despair, like the people he had just seen.
He vowed he would never return to the chasm. It was too horrifying, but he also vowed he would never forget what he saw. He made his mind up to take advantage of the second chance he had been given.
~ ~ ~ ~
The years in the 4th Land of Reform passed ever so slowly for James. He spent countless hours at night watching the stars, trying to figure out how they could be so close to Earth. During his free time during the day, he would venture as far from the house as he could, hoping to find clues as to their location. Because of his nearly life-long dealing with the mob, James was used to feeling like the smartest guy in the room, and he was confident he would crack the code and find a way back to his old life.
Despite his determination to find a way out, James kept his backup plan in full gear, and that was to cooperate with Mercio, his Angel Counselor, and with the rules and guidelines set forth by the powers that be.
He was progressing well, as evidenced by the frequent compliments from his house Administrator, Cindy. In accordance with his good behavior, James was given an important job. He had been placed on the team of people overseeing the docks where the new arrivals came in each night of the week.
New arrivals to the 4th Land of Reform arrived on boats. These boats were massive old wooden ships, the kind used in the 14th to 19th centuries throughout the world. The docks were a massive structure at the southern tip of each of the four Lands of Reform. Harbors had been carved out to allow ships ample room to sail in, dock, unload their passengers, and sail back out onto the open waters of the Heavenly Sea. Massive steel gates guarded the harbors and could only be opened from the inside of the dock. When ships arrived outside, they would be verified, then the gates would open, and they would sail through.
The workers were told this was to protect the Lands of Reform from the forces of Hell, the Dark Angels, who many feared might someday try to attack or take over the Lands of Reform. Not only were the dock gates a deterrent, but in the skies above all the Lands of Reform Angels patrolled, always ready to not only defend, but also sound the alarm for any intrusion.
Upon death, people who would not be going directly to Heaven were taken to a particular place of judgment. Once judged, they were loaded onto the ships and taken to whichever place they needed to go. Some ships sailed to one of the four Lands of Reform, the worst cases going to the 4th Land, the ones needing only modest reform going to the 1st Land, and the others somewhere in between. Those whose lives determined they truly deserved to be in Hell were loaded, or rather, forcibly dragged onto those ships, and sent there.
The docks were one of the most interesting places to work. The myriad of new women and men arriving nightly, with aghast and fearful expressions, yielded constant intrigue from the workers. While dock workers were not supposed to talk with them, it was inevitable for the workers to strike up brief conversations with the new arrivals. People from all over the world, disembarking the ships, pleading their cases to dock workers who pretended to listen as if their listening could make a difference, when in fact, the fates of all had already been decided, else they would not be coming into the dock aboard the ship in the first place.
Chapter 13
James was getting bored. Being a model citizen in a place that was no fun had zero appeal to him. His hope of finding a way out was slowly diminishing. With their passing, James' reason for living was also passing. It was only his friendship and admiration for Ellen that kept him going. If it were not for her, he might have given up long ago.
During his sixth year, the monthly meetings with his Angel Counselor, Mercio, were also losing their effectiveness. James had missed three of the last five meetings, making excuses each time, but Mercio knew it was more than this. He knew James was struggling, and he made a point to visit James at the house.
Early in the morning, he arrived and made his way up the stairs and knocked on James’ door. There was no reply. Mercio knocked again, then put his ear to the door, listening. Nothing. He knocked a third time. This time he heard the ruffling of coverings, and James said in a voice full of lament, “Whaaatt?”
“James, it’s Mercio.”
Mercio listened and heard a loud sigh. He heard movement, and finally, the door opened.
James half-smiled and said, “Mercio, good morning.”
“Hello James,” Mercio said cheerfully. “Did I wake you?”
James paused momentarily, then said, “No, I had to get up to answer the door anyway.”
Mercio began nodding, then realized James had made a joke. He laughed. “That’s a good one, James. I’m going to have to remember to use it.”
James nodded, “I got it from an old uncle of mine, Uncle Coy. He used to say it all the time.”
“Well, it’s a good one.”
James finally said, “What can I do for you, Mercio? Would you like to come in?”
“No, no, James. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. You’ve missed our last few meetings, and I just… well… wanted to touch base.”
James took a deep breath, trying to find an excuse. He rubbed his hand across his forehead and said, “Yeah, I don’t have a good reason, old friend.”
Mercio said nothing and only nodded, keeping the ball in James’ court. James felt it and said, “We are scheduled for tomorrow, aren’t we?”
Mercio nodded. “Yes, we are. Can you make it?”
“I will,” said James.
“That’s great, James. Have a great day. We have lots to talk about tomorrow. I’ll see you then.” Mercio turned and walked down the hall, happy he had stopped. Sometimes clients needed a little bit of encouragement, and James, while one of his more peculiar cases, apparently did.
~ ~ ~ ~
From the moment Mercio left, James did very little except brood over the fact that he had been in the 4th Level of the Land of Reform for far too long. All day, his mind rehearsed the reasons he was going to give to Mercio as to why he should be promoted up and transferred to the 3rd Land of Reform.
The only thing that saddened him about the whole idea was Ellen. He loved her. He was sure of it. But he trusted she would be moving up too, either soon, before, or soon after him. Her life and the reason she was in the Land of Reform were still a mystery to him. He simply could not imagine a woman committing worse sins than he had.
The next morning James woke up and seriously contemplated skipping his meeting again. He went downstairs and sat with Ellen during breakfast. The faint sun was shining through the dining hall window onto the side of her face, making her look especially radiant this morning. While they were eating, she asked, “So James, what are you doing before work tonight?”
“I have a counseling appointment.”
“Oh. That’s great. Do you think your time to move up is drawing near?” As she finished saying it, she lowered her head slightly, signaling non-verbally that the answer for her might not be hopeful.
James did answer right away. He watched her eyes looking down at her food. He saw her humility, and her gentle, sorrowful soul. It was something he never saw before in a woman, or in anyone for that matter. He never took the time to see people. In his busy world of being a lawyer, people were merely pawns to move his life forward.
