Nightside 08 - The Unnatural Inquirer

talking, and…we clicked. Next thing I know we’re a couple, and she’s moved in with me. Neither of us said anything to you because we knew you’d blow your stack.”
    “I am lost for words,” I said.
    “Bet that doesn’t last,” said Cathy.
    I glared at her. “I did not rescue you from a house that tried to eat you, take you in, and make you my secretary, just so you could get involved with a disreputable character like Alex Morrisey!”
    “I thought Alex was your friend?” said Bettie, who I felt was enjoying the situation entirely too much.
    “He is. Mostly. It’s because I know him so well that I’m worried! Alex has even worse luck with women than I do.”
    “I resent that!” said Alex.
    “I notice you’re not denying it,” I said.
    Cathy stood close beside Alex, holding his arm protectively. It reminded me of the way Bettie had been holding my arm recently. Cathy looked me square in the eye, her jaw set in a familiar and very determined manner.
    “I am eighteen now, going on nineteen. I’m not the frightened little girl you rescued any more. Hell, I’ve been running your office for the last few years and kept all the paper-work in order, which is more than you ever did. I am old enough to run my own life and to be responsible for my own actions. Just like you always taught me. Go after what really matters to you, you said. And I did. Alex and I might not be the most…orthodox of couples; but then, neither are you and Suzie.”
    I smiled briefly. “Well. My little girl is all grown-up. All right, Cathy. You’re clearly off your head and displaying quite appalling taste, but you have the right to make your own mistakes.” I looked at Alex. “We will talk about this later.”
    “Oh, joy,” said Alex.
    “Quite,” I said. “Now, show me how that fiendishly complicated-looking remote control works.”
    Alex picked up something big enough to land the space shuttle from a distance, turned on his television, dimmed the lights, and showed me how to work the DVD player.
    “That button is for the surround sound, the toggle is for the volume. Don’t touch that one; it turns on the sprinkler system. And stay away from that one because it operates the vibrating bed. Don’t look at me like that.”
    “What’s this big red button for?” said Bettie, sitting beside me on the sofa before the television.
    “Do not touch the big red button,” said Alex. “That is only to be used in the event of alien invasion, or if someone not a million miles from here starts another bloody angel war.”
    “I did not…”
    “Right,” said Alex. “That’s it. You two enjoy the show, Cathy and I will be down in the bar.”
    “Don’t you want to see what’s on the DVD?” said Bettie.
    “I would rather stab myself in the eyes with knives,” said Alex. “Come along, Cathy.”
    “But I want to watch it!” said Cathy.
    “No, you don’t,” Alex said firmly. “Wait until John’s test-driven it; then, if it’s safe, we can have a peep at it.”
    “So I’m your guinea-pig now?” I said, amused despite myself.
    “Hey,” said Alex. “What are friends for?”
    “If you do get Raptured,” said Cathy, “can I have your trench coat?”
    Alex hustled her out, leaving Bettie and me alone with the television and the Afterlife Recording. The disc looked quite remarkably ordinary, almost innocent, as I took it out of its case. I handled it gingerly, half-afraid the thing might try to bite me, or even burst into flames once exposed to the open air; but it was only a DVD. I slipped it into the machine, hit PLAY, and Bettie and I settled back to watch.

    There was no menu, no introduction. It was a recording of an unexpected transmission, with the beginning missing. It just started, and the television screen showed a view into Hell. There were buildings, or more properly structures, great looming things, like impossibly huge cancers. The walls were scarlet meat traced with purple veins, sick and decaying. Suppurating holes that might have been windows showed people trapped inside, plugged into the breathing sweating architecture, sometimes sunk deep in cancerous flesh; and all of them were screaming in agony.
    The structures were packed too close together, their malign presence like a concentration camp of the soul. Through the narrow streets ran an endless stream of naked sinners, burned and bleeding, sobbing and shrieking as horned demons drove them on. The sinners who fell or lagged behind were