Then, darkness.
A vast endless nothing.
My senses numb, I have no choice but to drift in this immeasurable void. If I had lungs, I’d focus on my breathing, but right now there are no organs to pump and no air to inhale.
Maybe this is it, I consider, speculating on the bizarre state I’ve suddenly found myself in. Maybe this is all there is when you die, endless black nothing. Forever.
When heaven and hell are so deeply ingrained in your psyche, alternate versions of the afterlife don’t often worm their way in. Even considering other ideas in a simple thought experiment would be strictly prohibited by the church, but fortunately we live in a world without mind reading.
The possibility of something this vacant and lonesome has slipped into my quiet brain from time to time, a horrifying manifestation of death as a perpetual vacuum that we remain eternally aware of. It’s tough to wrap my mind around what endless eons would feel like as they float past, trapped forever while time stretches on and on in a haze.
There’s no logical reason for things to end like this, but I suppose there’s also no logical reason they wouldn’t.
At least eternal torment in hell gives you something to do.
The second I think this, I feel the first hint of a growing warmth below me. Orange light dances across the black abyss, accompanied by the pop and crackle of licking flames.
I’m growing hotter, quickly regretting just how flippant I was with my existential observations.
But death hasn’t come knocking just yet.
My eyes flutter open, pain surging through my body as I witness the dancing blaze that has made its way across my passenger seat. Smoke is filling the vehicle, but before I can open the door and crawl out I notice something even more dangerous watching from the dark forest nearby.
Ramiel is standing there with his bulbous belly and bald, wrinkly head. He’s wearing that familiar, unsettling smile, the light of swiftly growing flames dancing across his awkward visage. His pure white eyes gaze straight ahead, watching me through the glass of the passenger-side window as he waits some forty feet away.
I can’t just sit here and burn.
Drawing on centuries of demonic lore, I reach out and snatch the little metal crucifix hanging from my rearview mirror, gripping the beaded rope tight in my hand. I push open the driver’s side door.
Battling through the aches and pains that overwhelm my broken form, I make a first attempt to escape the burning vehicle. I clench my teeth as a mighty sting erupts through my left leg, the appendage badly twisted after the front of my car crumpled inward.
The strain is too much. I fall back into my seat, tears welling up in my eyes.
“Son of a gun!” I cry out, the rarely used words sizzling against my lips.
I glance over to see the pale man still standing, still watching. Making a run for it was likely never an option.
Still, I can’t just succumb to the fire.
One in 101, I remind myself.
I take a deep breath, bracing for the pain and trying again. This time I’m ready for the discomfort, and by some miracle I manage to pull myself up. I balance against the side of the car and thrust my cross toward the demon, crying out with a fitting prayer.
“Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle!” I shriek through the billowing smoke. “Be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil. May God rebuke him we humbly pray; and do thou, O Prince of the Heavenly Host, by the power of God, thrust into hell Satan and all evil spirits who prowl about the world seeking the ruin of souls! Amen!”
The second I finish my diatribe the demon rushes toward me, propelled swiftly through the forest in the exact opposite direction I was hoping for. It didn’t work.
“Oh no, oh no, oh no,” I gush, fear erupting through me as I instinctively duck back into the blazing car.
It’s a strange move, but with no other safer haven this is the only option I’ve got. If I limp into the woods I’m a goner, and as far as I know any fate delivered by a demon is much, much worse than burning alive.
I’ll be burning even longer if I go with him.
Sweat pours from my body as I stall in the driver’s seat, accepting my fate and praying with all my might.
“Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me,” I repeat over and over again.
From the corner of my eye, I expect to see Ramiel gazing into my vehicle, his face pressed against the cracking glass as he watches the life gradually melt from my body.
But the demon is nowhere to be found.
Confused, I look out and discover the pale, pudgy creature has retreated slightly, returning to his former position some forty feet away from my burning car.
“Wait, what?” I allow my analytical mind a welcome return to the captain’s chair.
The demon’s behavior is odd, but an idea is emerging. This creature certainly didn’t mind the crucifix in my hand, nor the holy words spilling from my throat, but when I got back into the car he retreated.
Thinking fast, I move to climb from my car again, watching the pale man closely from the corner of my eye. I can barely see him through the smoke now, but I can make out his silhouette stepping closer with every inch I slip from my vehicle.
When I drop back into the driver’s seat, the demon retreats.
I’ve managed to formulate one or two theories, but I’m not thrilled about any particular hypothesis. Nothing about this makes complete sense.
Why would a demon from the pits of hell avoid, of all things, fire?
I’ve only got one shot at this, I realize, coughing loudly as smoke completely fills the vehicle. On one hand, I’ve had years of coaching through my faith, Christian lore offering a time-honored process of facing down demons with a cross in your palm and the holy spirit in your heart. On the other hand, a crazy—but seemingly evidence-based—idea is brewing.
I spring into action, holding my breath as I reach into the car’s backseat and gather as much junk as I can. There are a few jackets strewn about, as well as an assortment of books and various clutter that any high school senior has. I push through the painful ache that surges through my body, then drop my trash next to the open driver’s side door with a thud.
At the same time, I slip from my vehicle, tumbling to the ground and setting my gaze across the forest. I focus on the demon’s bare feet.
The pale man instantly marches toward my car, and as he approaches I slowly crawl even further under the broiling machine. It’s only now I realize just how burned my skin has gotten; the whole right side of my body is throbbing like I’ve caught the worst sunburn of my life.
Fortunately, the more adrenaline surges through my veins, the more this searing pain becomes a dull ache, unpleasant but manageable. My leg is still mangled and my joints are stiff, but this is no time to nurse my wounds.
It’s time to act.
Ramiel continues his approach, gradually slowing as he makes his way around the blaze. My eyes are glued to every movement, and I react accordingly to avoid detection.
Soon enough, I’m creeping out from under my flaming vehicle and slinking into the woods, hobbling slightly but refraining from the painful yelps that beg to escape from within me.
The demon rounds my car and stands before the mysterious heap that rests outside my door. It’s difficult to see, the fire providing a shield of visual disorientation and prompting the pale man to keep a slight distance.