Sid, Ombudsman of Hell

[joegoda]

"Is this normal?" It wasn't the first time that Sid wished he had his hat, an expensive Porkpie and something that he left behind when he died. He had tried to recreate the hat over the years, but it just wasn't the same. The replacement looked exactly like the original, it just never quite lived up to the other's feel.

The wind coming from directly in front of them was stiff and the constant moaning was beginning to rattle Sid's teeth. It carried dust and other debris toward them, pelting their faces and covering their clothing in a fine layer of dirt. There were twenty foot tall dustdevils whirling madly, running hither and yon, passing close by them and lightning was striking in random spots contributing to the otherworldliness of the place. The sound was deafening.

"Oh sure!" Betty was peddling for all she was worth, tacking into the wind so it wouldn't turn the pedicab over. Her blond hair flowed like water behind her. "In theory, nobody is supposed to leave Limbo. Of course, we do. Doesn't mean it's easy, though." She laughed wildly. "Watch out! Tumbleweed!"

Tumbleweed it was, about eight feet around and full of spiky thorns. It rumbled towards them and bounded directly over their heads, missing the pedicab by only a few inches.

"That was close!" Sid exclaimed, pulling his hands from over his head.

"Oh, that was nothing," Betty said, "there was one time I took a direct hit and it was six months of regeneration before I could get back on the horse." She looked over her shoulder at the two men. "You get used to it, after a while."

A loud boom deafened them as lightning struck the spot the pedicab had been just moments before.

Justin nodded. "Yeah. I reckon you can. There was a man in our town who had six fingers on one hand. Took a while to get used to that, but afterwards, he would have looked strange with only five." He looked around Betty's shapely figure, at the horizon. "How much further, Betty?"

"Tired of me already?" She laughed again and turned her focus to the path ahead. "It's not too far, Justin." She pointed at a tiny rock spike, on the horizon and pointing like a handless finger toward the sky. "See that rock? It's close to that." She looked back over her shoulder. "We've already lost the town."

"Lost the town?" Sid asked. "How do we lose a town?"

"Well, once you get past the town's border, it just kinda disappears." Betty looked back over her should at Sid. "Everybody knows that. This your first time out, Sid?"

"Sid hasn't been out of his office since he got here, Betty," Justin offered.

Betty's eyebrows rose over her slim face. "That true, Sid? Trapped in your office?"

Sid nodded without saying anything. He leaned out of his side of the cab, looking back the way they came. Sure enough, the only thing to be seen behind them was desert, grey sky and more desert. He turned around and answered Betty. "Yeah. It's part of my punishment. I can't get out of my office unless it's to see one of the Big Guys."

"Oh yeah?" Betty maneuvered the cab around a large horseshoe crab that snapped its claws at them. "You've talked to the Big Guys? You're one of the important people?" She made the word 'important' sound like it was coated with drek and served on a paper plate.

"Uh...," Sid said, jumping at a bolt of lightning that crashed uncomfortably close. "I don't know about that. It depends on your definition of 'important', I guess."

"Sid is very important," Justin defended. "He's going to get me out of my fix by talking to the man everyone says I... he's going to prove I'm here by mistake. Then he's going to present my case to Satan himself and get me released."

Betty slowed a bit so she could look back at Sid without crashing. "Really? You can do that?"

Sid shrugged in his seat next to Justin. "I'm going to try. That's part of my job here. I defend souls that have been unjustly sentenced."

Betty looked at him quietly with a discerning eye. Then she turned back and concentrated on her driving. After a bit and a close call with another tumbleweed, she tossed back the question "How many have you defended, Sid? I mean, successfully?"

Sid mumbled something.

"Sorry," Betty said. "I didn't hear you."

Sid cleared his throat. "One," he said. "Just one."

"One, huh?" Betty said thoughtfully. "Still... one is a pretty big number when you expect none."

"You know...," Justin said, "This really isn't such a bad place."

Betty almost lost control of the pedicab lauging and Sid just stared at him.

"No, really." Justin ignored the stare that Sid was giving him. "I mean, I can see where it might be terrifying the first time around, but once you get used to it, it's pretty exciting."

"Yeah," Sid muttered, "Like being in a nightmare that just goes on and on."

"That's hell for you, Sid." Justin nodded. "Still, it can kind of grow on a person after a while."

Betty laughed. "Justin, I don't know where you were born, but you have the oddest outlook of anyone I've ever known." She looked back at him and smiled... the sort of smile that makes men blush. "Pity we're not still alive, you know?"

An uncomfortable silence fell between the three while each contemplated what the other had meant, where they were, and what might happen next. Betty solved the issue by asking Sid how he ended up in hell.

Sid cleared his throat, trying to unclog it from the hell dust that seemed trapped in it. "I died."

Betty snorted. "Well, that's a duh. No, I mean, what sin did you do that caused you to be sent to hell? Kill someone? Cheat at cards? Buy off a priest?" When Sid didn't answer immediately, Betty chuckled as she swerved to avoid a crevasse that had just opened up in front of the pedicab.

It wasn't a large crevasse. Possibly six or seven inches across, but it was wide enough that Betty had to find a way around it. Once she had done that, she continued. "I mean, it must have been pretty big for you to be in the position you are. It's not everyone that can talk to the PTB just because someone's got a whine."

"It's uh." Sid straightened his tie and composed himself, adjusting his suit jacket over his bony shoulders. "It's not like that, Betty. I'm the Ombudsman of Hell, not a lawyer. The position isn't that glamorous, and I didn't get it because I committed something horrendous. It's my punishment for standing up to The Big Bad One when I was sent to Hell. He was impressed enough with me that he laughed in my face and sentenced me to be the speaker for anyone who felt they were truly and unjustly sent to the wrong level of Hell." A nearby crash of thunder made him jump. "It's a punishment, not a job."

"I think you're just splitting hairs there, Sid," Betty said, just before her eyes got wide and she called out, "Tumbleweed! Hang on!"

Another tumbleweed, even larger than the last, a greyhound bus of a tumbleweed, bounded across the plain. It was coming perpendicular to them, and coming very fast. It launched itself directly at the pedicab, smashing into it and tossing the pedicab and it's passengers wheels over canopy. Betty was ejected from her seat as the cab rolled and she landed in a crumpled heap with an audible snap.

The tumbleweed hit a stone the size of a head and bounded up into the air, up and over the wreckage of the pedicab. Moans came from the upside down and smashed canopy. A hand protruded from underneath it, fingers groping for a purchase in the gritty black soil. The hand turned over and gripped the lip of the bent frame.

Slowly and with great deliberation, the canopy lifted away from the ground. Another hand joined the first and then another hand, and another.

"Come on, Sid! Push harder," Justin groaned, his muffled voice coming from under the canopy.

"I'm pushing as hard as I can!" Sid wheezed. "It's not as easy as you might think with an arm broken in three places. Look! You can see the bone sticking out! All this time I've been in Hell and I've never been injured. Now look at me!"

"We'll take a look at it once we're outside, Sid. It can't be all that bad. I mean, it's not like you're going to die or anything. Heck, I stayed with one man who had lost both legs when he was struck by lightning. The legs grew back and turned out just fine. You'll be okay."

The canopy lifted high enough that Justin was able to crawl out from under it. He stood up, completely unharmed, and dusted himself off. "Okay, Sid," he said, "I'm going to pull you out now. Which arm is the broken one?"

"It the left one, the one that was hanging out the cab." Sids said. "Funny, it doesn't hurt like I thought it would. Just be careful!"

"I will," Justin promised. "I'll be as gentle as I can." Then he bent back down, grabbed Sid's right hand and pulled him out from under the wreckage. Sure enough, Sid's left arm was broken and hung at an unusual angle to the rest of his body. Justin pulled Sid to sitting position and left him leaning against the ruined pedicab.

"Wow!" Justin wasn't even breathing hard. "Was that lucky or what?"

Sid was experimentally manipulating his broken arm, seeing if he could put it back into place. "Lucky?" His voice showed amazement as he wheezed. "Lucky! I broke my arm! You call that lucky? What are you? Meshugeneh?" He used his good arm to point an accusing finger at Justin, who just stood there shaking his head. "You're not even bruised! Not a scratch on you. Easy for you to talk about lucky!"

"Of course it was lucky." Justin said as he reached for Sid's broken arm. "Here, let me look at it." Justin examined Sid's arm. "Pshaw. It's not all that bad. Only one little compound fracture."

He took Sid's upper arm in one hand and Sid's lower arm in his other and pulled them as if he was making a Thanksgiving wish. Sid let loose one long scream, and then he dwindled quickly down into a whimper. His arm was straight, though.

"Now, don't be picking up anything heavy with that arm for about a week." Justin said seriously. "It'll take about that long to heal." He stretched a bit, ignoring Sid's complaints. "I've seen those big 'weeds tear a man limb from limb and scatter him to four acres. Can you imagine how hard it is to regenerate after that? All you have is a broken arm. I'd say that's pretty lucky." He looked around. "Where's Betty?"

"How should I know?" Sid complained. "If she'd been more careful, we'd not be in this fix."

"Sid, that's not helping." Justin cupped his hands around his mouth. "Betty!"

"Hey, kid." Justin prodded. "How come you're not hurt? I mean, you don't have a scratch on you."

Justin turned his head briefly. "I'm just lucky like that, Sid." He scanned the horizon, back toward the direction they had traveled. "Betty!" Not receiving an answer, he turned again to Sid. "Don't go anywhere, okay? I'll be right back." He trudged off in a slow jog.

"Sure," Sid mumbled. "Take your time. I'll just sit here and quietly waste away, all right? Don't worry about me. I'm fine."

The wind continued to howl, but with less force than before. Sid watch as tumbleweeds rolled and lightning flashed, but they were in the distance; far, far away. Something tickled in the back of his mind.

"Huh. If I didn't know any better, I'd swear that tumbleweed that hit us wasn't an accident." With his good hand, Sid scratched at the side of his nose. "Course, that would just be... wrong. It doesn't make sense."

Sitting propped up against the crumpled red canopy, Sid watched Justin trudge off, little puffs of grey dust marking every step the boy took. He watched Justin stop a short ways away, turn, and trudge in a different direction. Then Justin stopped, bent down and picked up a bulky thing about the size and shape of a duffle bag from the floor of the plain. He tossed it over his shoulder and start jogging back.

"I guess she's in a bit worse shape than I am," Sid observed as Justin got closer with Betty slung over his shoulder.

At Justin's arrival, Sid could see that Betty was indeed in much worse shape. Her jaw was twisted oddly and her forehead and eyes were covered in what could only be described as the worst case of roadrash imaginable. Only one of her pretty blue eyes was visible in the mess of her face, and that eye showed red and pain.

"Looks like she landed on her head." Justin said, placing his burden carefully next to Sid. Betty's head flopped awkwardly on her neck. "Her neck is broken, her face is a mess, and her collarbone is shattered. Poor girl." He looked at Sid with his one broken arm. "See, Sid? It could have been much worse." He patted one of Betty's perfect legs. "It'll be okay, Betty. Just a few days, you'll be good as new."

Betty's mouth, twisted out of shape and mangled by pain tried to smile, but the effect was ghastly. Justin kneeled down next her and gently took her head in his hands. He lifted it from its odd tilt and pulled it sharply up. Sid could hear the crack of bones and cartilage as Justin sat Betty's head back on her shoulders so that it looked more natural.

"Darn, Justin. This really hurts." Betty's voice was slow and slurred, rising from shattered vocal cords. "Thanks for coming to get me. Anyone else would have just left me..."

"Shhh." Justin placed a finger against her lips. "You rest, Betty. You'll heal faster if you just rest."

He stood up and grabbed one of the ruined canopy's braces. He pulled until the metal screamed in protest and then broke free with a metallic snap. He went around to the other side and repeated the process. He came back to where Betty sat and placed the makeshift splints behind her, binding them to her with pieces of the canopy's fringe that he had casually ripped off. Betty was bound to the metal braces at her forehead and her shoulders, keeping her head straight.

Standing and dusting his hands off on his jeans, he smiled. "There you go, Betty. That should hold you for a while. At least until we can get you to somewhere safe."

"There's a safe place out here?" Sid asked. He waved his good arm at the surrounding plain. Heat thunder rumbled across the sky and forks of lightning rained down nearby as if to punctuate his point. "How far are we to the crossroads? Maybe there's someone there that can help."

Justin shook his head. "Normally there's nothing at the crossroads except the sign that says 'The Crossroads', and even that's not there sometimes." He scratched his head. "Although, it's been a while since I was there, so I can't really say."

Sid painfully stood up. "You just point me in the direction, kid. I'll go look. We're supposed to find a guy named Virgil there anyway, remember?" He looked down at Betty's ruined face. "I'd feel better if I was doing something."

"Sorry," Betty mumbled. Already her one visible eye was healing, and she turned it up to look at Sid. "I know I'm not that appetizing to look at."

"It's not that..." Sid began. Well, okay. Maybe it is. "I just think that Justin shouldn't be the only hero, okay?"

Justin nodded somberly. "Sid's right, Betty. It would be better if I stay here with you, just in case. You're in no condition to travel, yet." He pointed toward the same spire of rock that Betty had pointed to before the crash. "Just head toward that rock, Sid. Betty says you can't miss it."

"Yeah, I know. I heard her. I'll be back as soon as I can." Sid started walking in the direction Justin had pointed, waving his farewell.

Once he got out of earshot, he said, "This is nuts. One hundred percent nuts." He walked another hundred yards and focused on the finger of rock, which did not appear to be any closer. "Maybe I can do this without them. I mean, I'm sure that Betty will be all right. She's a quick healer, right? And Justin... well, it's just better if he stays there. There's something just not quite right about that kid. He's too likable."

After a few thousand yards more, he loosened his tie and took it of, shoving it in his back pocket. "Who'm I kidding? I promised the kid that I'd get him to see that priest he kill... he says he didn't kill. Besides, there's no guarantee that this...," he searched his memory, "Peter Michael will even talk to me. And you gotta admit, there's something about Justin that just causes people to like him."

A mile and a half from where he had left Justin and Betty, he muttered darkly, "Besides... there's something decidedly rotten in Hell. This whole deal smells of a frame, and I'd bet dollars to donuts that tumbleweed was aimed at us. Somebody is trying to keep us from finding out who framed Justin, and why."

After he had gone two miles, a new bounce was in his step, and Sid had started to whistle to himself. An old tune from long ago, something from a movie called 'Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid'. Sid could feel a strange sense of optimism coming to him. It was the same sense when he was only three or four words away from finishing a crossword puzzle, or had the last twelve pieces of a jigsaw puzzle left. Or, he remembered with a nostalgic sigh, finding that one last, lost and lonesome penny that always hides deep inside the spreadsheet during those last crucial hours of the end of the fourth quarter.

This was a puzzle, true enough. Granted, it might take some getting used to, being out here in the world, such as it is, but he seemed to be doing all right so far. He was meeting new people and maybe even making some friends doing it. Friends. That was something he missed from his old, living days. He sighed with a smile, remembering.

He was pulled from his reverie when his shoes clopped on a hard surface. Looking down, Sid was surprised to find himself standing at and on the Crossroads. He turned and looked back the direction he had come. Lighting still crashed and the wind still howled, but he had been impervious to it all, lost in his memories.

The Crossroads was a place that was a literal crossroads. There, on the ground before him, was the crossing of two broad blacktops, running at right angles to each other. Dotted yellow lines ran from one horizon and disappeared into the other, and in the very middle of the crossroad where the yellow lines met was a yellow cross.

He looked for any sign designating this as THE Crossroads, but there wasn't one.

"Like I need a sign to tell me where I am." Sid turned around full circle, scanning the horizon. There was nothing anywhere as far as the eye could see. "This has got to be the place."

Suddenly, a blast of noise shattered the air and a large red bus showed up on the highway, appearing out of nowhere at all, blowing its horn for all it was worth. Sid dodged to the far side and landed on hard his seat, and watched with amazement as the bus stopped on the other side of the road with its brakes screaming like an appropriate lost soul.

Sid got to his feet and brushed himself off with his good arm. He started to walk across the road, carefully looking both ways before he did, just in case. His left foot had just hit the asphalt when, with another ear-splitting howl of the horn and a bone shaking shriek of airbrakes the bus left just as it had appeared, fading out of sight the moment it reached the yellow cross in the middle of the Crossroads.

On the other side of the road, where before there had been nothing, there was a bus stop. It looked like any bus stop in any small town. A tiny gray building with benches along its outside wall. A few half empty vending machines. An old man wearing a ratty old brown coat and tired pinstriped trousers held up with a rope as a belt, was sitting on one of the benches, looking back at Sid. A faded paper poppy was pinned to his coats lapel and he was wearing a broken down top hat.

"Hey! Buddy!" The old man called from the bus stop. "Come 'ere." He waved Sid over.

Carefully, Sid crossed the road. When he reached the other side, the first thing he noticed was the smell. The man smelled as if he had not or never had a bath in his entire existence. Sid stepped back, to be just outside the range of the man's odor.

"Yes?" Sid asked cautiously. "What can I do for you?"

The man pulled a half smoked cigar from one of his coat pockets. "You gotta light? It's been hell and gone since I last smoked, and I'm dying for one."

Sid patted his pockets and shook his head negatively. "Nope. No matches. Sorry, chum." Then something clicked. "Wait a minute." He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out the ticket that Edra had given him. The second the vibrating paper reached the air, it again burst into flames. "Will this do?"

The man on the bench leaned forward with the stogie between his lips. He stuck the end of the cigar into the flames and puffed mightily. Soon, clouds of thick, acrid smoke rose from both man and cigar. The smell of the cigar just barely cut the potency of the man's own.

"Yep," said the man on the bench, "that'll do just fine." He stuck out a hand. "Name's Virgil. And I'd lay odds that you were sent here to find me."