Purgatory: The Devil's Game Read online

  Purgatory

  The Devil’s Game

  M.A. Carlson

  The Devil’s Game: Purgatory Copyright © 2021 by M.A. Carlson. All Rights Reserved.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  Cover designed by B. Rose Designz

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  M.A. Carlson

  Visit my website at https://macarlsonauthor.wordpress.com/

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Printing: October 2021

  ISBN- 978-1-7348021-6-0

  CONTENTS

  Prologue – In the Beginning . . .

  Chapter 1 – Congratulations! You’re dead!

  Chapter 2 – The Evaluation

  Chapter 3 – Welcome to Sin City

  Chapter 4 – The Flame of Enoch

  Chapter 5 – First Step

  Chapter 6 – Smashing Things

  Chapter 7 – A Thug Named Billy

  Chapter 8 – A Little Defense

  Chapter 9 – New Room

  Chapter 10 – Making Friends

  Chapter 11 – Too Many Demons

  Chapter 12 – Let’s Make a Deal

  Chapter 13 – Essence Engineering

  Chapter 14 – Secret Passage

  Chapter 15 – The Library

  Chapter 16 – Celebration

  Chapter 17 – Pride

  Chapter 18 – Gladiatorial Combat

  Chapter 19 – Essence Analysis

  Chapter 20 – Sloth’s Touch

  Chapter 21 – Circus Maximus

  Chapter 22 – Glorior Superbia

  Chapter 23 – Celebration: Take Two

  Chapter 24 – Lust

  Chapter 25 – Curse or Blessing

  Chapter 26 – Blindsided

  Chapter 27 – Greed

  Chapter 28 – Wrath

  Chapter 29 – Relief

  Chapter 31 – Real Lust

  Chapter 32 – Day of Rest

  Chapter 33 – Another One Bites the Dust

  Chapter 34 – Trial

  Chapter 35 – Gluttony

  Chapter 36 – Spiraling

  Chapter 37 – All Consuming

  Chapter 38 – Rewarding Experience

  Chapter 39 – Punishment & Illusion

  Chapter 40 – Retail Therapy

  Chapter 41 – The Endless Loop

  Chapter 42 – Greed and Gluttony

  Chapter 43 – Pride and Lust

  Chapter 44 – Promise to Keep

  Chapter 45 – Envious Endings

  Epilogue – Only the Beginning

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  Prologue – In the Beginning . . .

  “Father, demons are at the gates again,” Michael shouted in warning before flying from the throne room to defend the Silver City.

  God sighed. “Again? When will Lucifer learn? Send out the Host. Defend the innocent.” Heaven was meant to be a paradise where no man, woman, or child who was worthy of it, would ever go without. They would never know hunger or disease. It was to be peace and harmony. God’s word was meant to be law. It was not meant to be challenged. And yet . . . and yet, His most wayward child was forever breaking his laws. He asked Himself for the one trillion, five hundred, thirty-six billionth, two hundred, seventy-nineth millionth, one hundred, fifty-fife thousandth, eight hundred and first time, “Why did I give my Angels free will?”

  God knew the answer to that question, of course. It was a lesson He learned from humanity. When man had free will, they often surprised Him. They created new and wonderful things. Not long after He created man and saw what they could accomplish with free will, He blessed His first children, His Angels, with the same gift. Most of the Angels were delighted and began their own pursuits. Of course, they still answered His call when He needed them. Raphael took an interest in healing. Michael delved into strategy and combat, not God’s favorite pursuit for one of His children but He respected His child’s free will. And a good thing He did, Michael’s pursuits had defended the Silver City for ages.

  Then there was Lucifer. Despite all God’s power and knowledge, He did not and could not appreciate Lucifer continually turning against Him. God had hoped that by giving the child dominion over hell and the power to tempt mankind, that over time, it would satiate his thirst for power. But it wasn’t enough. It was never enough. And now, hardly a century would pass without Lucifer’s armies attacking. It was becoming tiresome to the point God was tempted to erase his eldest child from existence. Then again, there was that problem with the whole ‘Thou shalt not murder’, commandment. A law his children might violate but one that he could not. That was one of the problems with being the Supreme Being, when you made a rule, you had no choice but to set the example by following it.

  God shouted, His voice heard throughout the Silver City and across the battlefield, “Bring Lucifer to me!”

  Almost instantly, Michael and several other Archangels appeared, holding Lucifer between them.

  “Hi, Dad,” Lucifer growled as he fought his captors. “Mind calling off your minions?”

  “Let him be free,” God ordered.

  The six Archangels that held him in place released him and stepped back, each one ready to attack should the fallen angel make a move against God.

  Lucifer grinned and straightened his robes and brushed some perceived dirt from his shoulder. “Nice to see you again brothers and sisters. Been too long.”

  God held up a hand, halting the Archangels from attacking. “What do you want this time, My child?”

  Lucifer snorted, “I want what I’ve always wanted, your throne.”

  God sighed, “Which you will never have. You know that as well as I do.”

  “Time will tell,” Lucifer snarled but quickly mastered his anger. “Though I do think it’s time you retire. Aren’t you tired of this? Tired of all the fighting? Tired of losing all those poor souls who choose me over you?”

  “You know very well that very few souls of the damned you receive, willingly choose you over Me,” God replied angrily, shaking the foundations of the room. It was rare that God let Lucifer get under his skin, that he was gaining more souls than God was . . . worrisome. “They have either completely failed, or they have failed at their chance to prove they are worthy of being rewarded with My presence.”

  “And yet, my army of demons, and souls of the damned, grow with every passing day while your forces continue to dwindle. It is only a matter of time before I win,” Lucifer taunted.

  God frowned. “I could always change the rules, My child.”

  Lucifer stiffened slightly and lost a bit of his swagger. “Then a wager?”

  God quirked an eyebrow. “We haven’t had one of those in a long time. Remind Me, who won the last wager?”

  Lucifer smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You did, but that was a very long time ago. I’m talking about something grander. Tell me, do you pay attention to the games your humans like to play?”

  “Interesting,” God said. “Tell Me what you have in mind.”

  “First, ground rules. No interference. No sending a random person to interrupt at exactly the right time. No direct interference from you,” Lucifer said.

  God hesitated. If He didn’t get involved, could He trust humanity to do the right thing? If His Angels interfere
d, would that count as Him interfering? However, there was a chance here to put a stop to the attacks on His innocents’, depending on the terms of the game. “That also means no interference from you.”

  “Hands off,” Lucifer agreed. “Your Angels and Pure Souls versus my demons and the damned. If I win, I get your throne. If you win . . . I’ll leave your precious Silver City alone for a million years.”

  God laughed, “Only a million years?”

  “Fine, two million, but don’t push it,” Lucifer offered.

  God’s mood shifted rapidly, storm clouds gathered, and thunder raged outside the throne room as He angrily responded, “No! When I win this time, the Gates of Heaven and My Silver City are never to be attacked again. They are to be completely off limits to all who reside within your dominion!”

  Lucifer paled slightly at the wrath he could feel roiling off the creator. Reluctantly, he accepted with a nod, it was the only chance he was going to get at what he truly wanted.

  The storm outside receded and sun shone down once more, God nodded, smiling congenially “Alright, tell me more about your . . . Devil’s Game.”

  Chapter 1 – Congratulations! You’re dead!

  I blinked blearily, as if I had just woken up from a long dream . . . or was it still a dream. I shuffled my feet forward a step, though I couldn’t say why I did, only that I felt compelled to move. I blinked a few more times and my surroundings began to clear. Everything was a muted shade of gray and indistinct.

  I shuffled forward another step and realized there was someone in front of me. Every time he or she shuffled a step forward, so did I. I still couldn’t tell you why that was. I don’t know what was compelling me to move, only that I did.

  Hours passed, or was it days? Either way, time passed, and every time the person in front of me took a step forward, I shuffled forward right behind them. Everything around me remained indistinct. A fog of nothing. Just the person in front of me, and me. I moved forward listlessly, never knowing why.

  Somewhere along the way, I heard someone taking a step from behind me. I couldn’t turn to look to confirm it, but I heard it. Every time I took a shuffling step, the person behind me did as well. Where were we going again? Did I ever know in the first place?

  More time passed and I continued taking shuffling steps forward toward an unknown destination. Still surrounded by fog, barely able to see the person shaped thing in front of me. Yet I continued moving forward. Why did I just follow along again? I blinked slowly and the question slipped away. I followed along mindlessly.

  Mindlessly? Was I a zombie now? What was a zombie? I felt like I should know the answer to that question. What question? I would have sighed if I could have. Instead, even my desire to sigh fled as I took another step forward.

  Time passed and I was sure I had asked myself the same questions several times . . . not that I ever remembered those questions. I just knew that I was following the person in front of me, and that there was someone following me. I could have been moving like that for minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, or even years. Time didn’t really mean anything anymore. Did time ever really matter before? Do I care? Who . . . who am I? I blinked and saw the person in front of me just a little bit clearer than before. It was a man . . . or was that a woman? The thoughts slipped away, and I was shuffling forward once again.

  I was confused when I heard something that wasn’t a shuffling footstep. It was a word. A question. “Name?”

  It came from somewhere far ahead of me . . . I didn’t hear the answer. But that word . . . it . . . meant something. What was that word? Why couldn’t I remember it? Why did I even care? The person in front of me shuffled another step forward and I did as well, my previous thoughts stolen from me again.

  I heard it again, “Name?” Did I have a name? I felt like I should have a name. It was on the tip of my tongue.

  I breathed out, something I couldn’t remember doing in all the time I’d been shuffling along. “V-” I started then forgot again as I stepped forward.

  It happened several more times. The same question, “Name?” It was repeated over, and over again. I got as far as breathing out “Vic-” before I shuffled forward again and forgot what I was supposed to be doing. I was really starting to hate this place. Of course, that feeling never lasted as it was forgotten as soon as I took another step.

  Once more, the question repeated, “Name?”

  “Victor,” I finally breathed out. It felt foreign but also familiar. I was Victor. That was my name. I knew I would forget in a moment when I took another step forward, but for that moment, I wanted to savor the feeling. I knew my name. It was Victor. I was Victor. Victor.

  I shuffled forward, repeating my name in my head. I am Victor. Victor is my name. My name is Victor. It took me a moment to realize I hadn’t forgotten my name. I knew who I was, and it wasn’t being taken from me.

  Then the question changed, “Victor who?”

  Who? Who, who? I was Victor. Why would it ask me who I was? I was Victor. And then I just wondered, who was Victor exactly. Who was I beyond my name?

  I shuffled ever forward as I asked that question and the voice continued to ask, “Victor who?” I really wished I could answer that question. “Victor G . . . G,” I mumbled. Where did the ‘G’ come from? Was there more to my name? Was that it?

  Victor was my given name. I knew that. How did I know that? Victor was the name given to me. ‘G’ was . . . was that my family name. No, not just ‘G’. There must be more to it than that. ‘G’ what, though?

  The voice asked again, “Victor who?”

  I’m trying here. I really am. You, whoever you are, stop pestering me. I’ll get it. Just . . . give me some time.

  Sounding annoyed with me now, the voice demanded, “Victor who?”

  “Victor Good . . . Good . . . Goodspeed,” I finally blurted out, elated. “I am Victor Goodspeed,” I gasped in relief even as I took another shuffling step forward.

  Suddenly, the fog cleared. The gray vanished. And there before me was a young woman in worn brown robes. She had short brown hair that was a shade darker than her robes. She had green eyes that were magnified by the coke-bottle glasses she wore. She looked utterly bored as she sat on a tall wooden stool holding a computer tablet.

  I blinked several times as I realized everything was suddenly in color. There was no one in front of me anymore. Better, I could move. I turned to look around. I was standing alone in front of this young woman. There was no one behind me that I could see. However, when I looked left and right there were dozens, hundreds . . . thousands of similarly bored looking people in brown robes and standing before each of them was another person, most of them looking just as confused as I felt.

  When I looked beyond the young woman, I needed to blink back the light. Were those . . . gates? And clouds? I looked down at my feet and found much to my surprise I seemed to be standing on clouds.

  It was also the first time I had looked at myself. I wore simple sandals and white pants that cut off just above my ankle. I moved my arms for what felt like the first time . . . ever. But that couldn’t be right, could it? My arms were covered in a similar cloth sleeve that stopped about halfway down my forearms. And suddenly, I felt the need to stretch. To move. So, I did. I raised my arms over my head and stretched, arching my back as I did so. It felt like I’d been asleep for a long time. A very long time.

  The young woman finally coughed politely, drawing my attention away from myself and back to her.

  “Welcome to the Gates,” she said. Her voice was kind, but I could still detect the boredom in the statement, as if she’d said the same thing over, and over again like a Walmart greeter . . . what was Walmart? I felt like I should know what that was.

  She cleared her throat again, this time a bit more insistently.

  I met her eyes and she asked, “Name?”

  “Victor Goodspeed,” I answered, feeling confident. I knew who I was now. I was Victor Goodspeed. It was a good name. At le
ast, I thought it was a good name. Suddenly, I wasn’t so sure that was true. What did I know about names? What did I know about Victor Goodspeed? Who was I exactly? Was I a good person? Was I a bad person?

  The young woman hummed as she moved fingers across her computer tablet in a practiced motion. “Let’s see, Victor Goodspeed, son of Sarah and Samuel Goodspeed, born December 7th, 1999, died September 3rd, 2050.”

  I was elated when she told me my parents’ names. Sarah and Samuel. I . . . I remembered them. Sarah . . . my mother, she was strict. She did something . . . important. I just don’t remember much else, like I didn’t know her very well. But my dad, my father, he was a mechanic . . . I think. I remember him playing catch with me. I remember arguing with him about the Cubs versus the White Sox, everyone knew the Cubs were the greatest franchise in history. I could almost feel his steadying hand on my back when he taught me to ride my bicycle. He was . . . just there. A fixture in my life. As those memories faded, I remembered what she said last, “Wait, I’m dead?”

  “Yes,” she answered then continued working through her tablet. “You married Ann Mertz on July 5th, 2025, divorced August 2nd, 2030, one son left behind.”

  My son . . . John. He was a good kid, just got married himself to a lovely young woman, Beth. And my wife . . . ex-wife. Thinking of her made me shudder. She married me just to have a kid then divorced me not a minute after John turned five. I remember it hit me out of the blue. I knew things were rough between us, but I didn’t know they were that bad. I never cheated on her or abused her. I worked hard and provided everything she could ever want or need. Apparently, all she really wanted was the kid and my money. She was the reason I never married again, never wanted to marry again.

  “Stockbroker and . . . oh, Atheist . . . interesting,” she said, finally looking up at me from the tablet for a moment only to dive back into it, her fingers working even faster. It finally looked like she was no longer bored.

  I was a stockbroker. I worked long, hard hours at it. Meetings, dinners, business trips to meet clients, and all the other perks and costs of the career. I made a lot of money . . . most of which went to my ex-wife and the son she barely let me see. Though having money like that meant John wanted for nothing. I was able to pay for private schools and college tuition. I took him on trips whenever I could . . . as the years went by those trips became fewer and farther apart. I really hope John knew how much I loved him.