Regrets

She had gotten lost, somehow. Hadley Baxendale had tried to stay close behind Rain as they crept through the howling corridors and descended through pit after pit, but somehow they had been separated. It was so easy to get lost in the dark. Now Hadley had no idea where in the hell she was. (This was literally true: she had a vague sense that she was in one of the infernal region’s lower circles, but she didn’t know which, and hell had a deplorable lack of maps.)

“Okay,” she said bravely to herself. “We’re headed to the same place, anyway, right? I just have to keep going down, and I’ll catch up!” Hadley was trying not to think of where she was headed. Rain had been all too clear. To find out what was going on, why the bunnies were loose, why her planet had been destroyed, they had to go to the source. The Big D. You Know Who. Old Scratch. Hadley knew of half a dozen other names. She didn’t like any of them.

She moved on, through the shadows, wishing that she wasn’t a living shade of mauve. Mauve wasn’t the stealthiest of colors. The funny thing was, so far she hadn’t been stopped. Hadley had thought hell was more crowded. Ever since she had lost Rain, she hadn’t run into a single demon, or monster, or human soul writing in eternal torment. Even the bunnies had gone.

She cautiously rounded yet another corner into yet another corridor, and quite unexpectedly ran into someone. “Oh, I beg your-”

It was the snake again. The same one she had met before. “You again,” it rumbled. “Miss Baxendale, I’m a little occupied right now.”

“Back!” Hadley shrieked at it. “Back, you foul thing! You’re the Dark Paint Stripper!”

“I am not,” the snake said wearily, “the Dark Paint Stripper. Or whatever name you choose to give him. I am only a deputy undersecretary. If you want to make an appointment with Our Father Below, you’ll have to call our receptionist department, between 3 and 4 A.M. on Tuesdays. Then fill out Form 876-9B, in triplicate, and sign it, and then initial your signature.”

“That’s awfully complicated,” Hadley said.

“We’re Hell. You expected good customer service?”

“Yes. Well. I really need to see You Know Who sooner. It’s an emergency.”

The snake chortled. “You want to see Our Father Below? The Dark Paint Stripper himself? And what do you propose to say?”

Hadley plucked up her courage. “He’s obviously unleashed the bunnies, and he’s destroyed my home planet!”

“And…?”

“And that’s wrong! And he should stop! Or else!”

“Or else what?”

Here Hadley had a problem. She had assumed that Rain would handle the “or else” part of the mission. Failing that, she had hoped that perhaps she could talk the Big Bad into seeing the error of his ways. She was beginning to think that wasn’t going to work.

“Listen,” said the snake. “I am only a deputy undersecretary, but I can see you are in over your head, Miss Baxendale. I can help. I can get you out of here. In fact, I can put in a word for you with my superiors. We can restore your home planet. We can even do more.”

Hadley was unused to dealing with the denizens of the lower regions. She didn’t realize her peril. So, she asked what seemed a simple question. “More? Like what?”

Suddenly everything blurred. Then sunlight, the first real light she’d seen since entering hell, spilled around her. Hadley gasped.

She was standing in a quiet gap between two rolling green lines of hills. It was the same spot where she had seen Casey last, where she had almost gone after him. They had argued, again, and he had walked away. She had meant to call the next day and explain. But she hadn’t. It was the only thing she regretted. She could just see the familiar Gray form leaning against a tree.

“Oh come on!” Hadley exclaimed. “I know what you’re up to, I’m not completely naive. Even if I wanted to go back to Casey, I couldn’t. We moved on. He’s with Jolene anyway. Jerk.” Hadley muttered a few uncomplimentary things. She’d never liked Auburns much. Especially not that Auburn.

“We could…” whispered the snake, “do something about Jolene.”

Hadley hadn’t considered that. “Could you? Well….”