Episode 2: The Five People You Meet In Hell

Working late at night Sarah had to keep her coffee close by to keep herself awake. The inside of this old theater she thought was much like the outside. Worthless. A futile enterprise. Outside of the old movie theater, the weeds were sprouting up just like they had sprouted up around all of the now abandoned houses that were selling for one dollar. She had no idea what Mayor Feltner was thinking. He must’ve thought that by receiving investments to reopen this nearly ancient edifice of entertainment that would certainly give a drawing to boost to not a dying but a dead economy.

Gary had died long ago, it represented a very small particle or a microcosm of both a state and an entire nation’s past. Chicago wasn’t far away and one could drive directly to Detroit from here. Sarah Simmons liked to compare Gary to Detroit. What once was forged in steel was now made of decaying dead rust. The spirit of the people had died long ago. She laughed at the thought of resurrecting it. She knew the undertones of what would come with the rich white money that was being invested in the theater. Taking a break and sipping her coffee, she set the hot steaming cup of caffeinated cream and sugar infused liquid down on the table. She looked at the front page of the newspaper.

“How could you feel that Sarah?” She chastised and reminded herself as she smirked at the headline.
“Three young males found dead in an abandoned house, cause of death unknown.”

She regained her composure, three young white college-age males whose names were unknown had been found in one of the one dollar abandoned houses a few days ago. Drugs were common and so were drug-related murders, but this was odd. What were well off college students doing in this city of the dead. And why had they not released the cause of death yet.
Why didn’t they have any identification on them?

She immediately thought of one thing.

Fentanyl overdose.

An opiate induced bliss must have sent all three directly to sleep.

The heart and lungs just forgot to turn themselves back on…

Such a thing had been common in the city for years, but according to Mayor Feltner at this theater could just be reinvigorated and refurbished things would get better.

This theater…

This decaying hellhole, of chipped paint, broken barstools and decaying bars of old Maplewood. The stage itself looked as if someone might fall through the rotten wood as if it were a trapdoor.

And then of course there were the rumors.

The rumors that the old theater was haunted, from a fire years back in the 1930s. Apparently the ghosts who would dance here in the 30’s and enjoy lives of luxury still roamed the halls.

At least they were not bothering Sarah’s cup of coffee.

Finishing her own legal stimulant, and swallowing the last scope of sugar and cream. Sarah Simmons decided to get back on the ladder and start painting again.

She labored heavily for about 15 minutes.

Her phone.

Her Damn phone was playing some classical Spanish opera piece.

She couldn’t quite name it.

It sounded like something they would play back when the city was actually alive and people were dancing and enjoying their high status in existence.

Sarah thought she had turned her phone off.

She precariously moved her foot and looked down at the rotting bar.
Her phone screen was black. And the power button was off.

The phone was off.

She thought she must’ve lost too much sleep.

That Spanish opera kept playing though.

How could there be music coming out of her phone when it was turned off?

Was she falling asleep?

Was she already asleep?

Suddenly the operatic singing would stop for about a minute.

Sarah Simmons shook her head and regained her breath.

About a minute later she tasted copper, it seemed as if somehow her gums were bleeding. This late night shift in the early morning was not going very well. She would visit the dentist every six months and I never had gum problems before. Yet she tasted and smelled copper. Her mouth was surely bleeding.

And the phone again.

This time. The song was different. And she sure as hell could not log on to Spotify on top of an eight foot ladder.
Her phone looked like it was turned off and again no power button began to play an old song. Simmons knew this one though.

It was an old song by Prince.

“7.”

She knew for a fact her phone was off…

The phone was turned off, she reminded herself. She began to sweat.

“All seven and we’ll watch them fall
They stand in the way of love
And we will smoke them all
With an intellect and a savoir faire
No one in the whole universe
Will ever compare
I am yours now and you are mine
And together we’ll love through
All space and time, so don’t cry
One day, all seven will die.”

She felt the blood begin to pour out of her mouth.

She had to be dreaming.

The ancient chandeliers and their barely working light bulbs began to flicker.

The lights began to flicker on and off.

This had to be a nightmare.

There were no headlights outside and car engines were not in nightmares.

Nor was there gunfire.

Real gunfire.

“And I saw an angel come down unto me
In her hand she holds the very key
Words of compassion, words of peace
And in the distance, an army’s marching feet (1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3, 4)
But behold, we will watch them fall.”

The popping sounds caused Sarah Simmons to slip.

She knew she would be falling backwards off the letter very soon.
As she was enveloped in a blinding flash of light she moved upward upward into a light that was about to pull her directly through the ceiling.

She could hear the bullets whizzing by her head like metallic insects.

She was falling indeed as both feet had slipped.

She felt herself rise through the ceiling and continue rising.

She felt her body and soul equally ascend towards the light.

It was as if she had slipped off a ladder to heaven.

Though she felt very calm she still thought to herself.

“I should not have looked at the phone…”