long as I can remember,” Lithia says, clearly not intimidated.
I say, “So, I assume we still have to take the stairs, right?”
“It’s not as impressive as you think up there,” Lucifer says. “The lower floors are where the fun is at.”
“I’m sure you would say that, but why don’t you just humor us for a minute.”
He sighs loudly and pouts out his lower lip. “Jay should take you. I hate it up there.”
We all look at Jesus, who has just lit up another doobie and is stroking his wispy beard in a thoughtful manner. He shrugs and says, “I’m down with that.”
Chapter 15
So, our parade has yet again increased, this time by two. Despite an endless stream of complaints, Lucifer has decided to tag along and he and Katina bring up the rear, whispering.
Ago and I follow Jesus up a flight of stairs, while Lithia, Jane 62 and the Bleeding Nun trail behind us. Jesus begins humming “Stairway to Heaven,” then laughs uproariously at his own joke. The rest of us chuckle politely but I know the others, like myself, think the messiah is a major dork as well as a hopeless stoner.
Eventually, the stairs end and we all crowd onto the small landing, waiting for Jesus to open the door. He places his hand on a highly polished gold knob and say, “Okay, you guys ready?”
There are a lot of groans but I say, “Yep, we’re ready.”
Jesus opens the door with a flourish and then steps back. Ago and I pass over the threshold first, completely astounded. The others follow us through and I can hear soft gasps behind me. We stare in silence for what feels like an eternity.
And then, Lithia’s voice: “What the hell is this? A joke?”
I blink at the vast whiteness of where we are. A bright blinding nothing. Absolute emptiness. When I turn around, I see my companions and not one other thing. We’re standing on air, it seems, and the door we just passed through no longer exists.
“I told you it was boring,” Lucy says.
“This is it?” Katina asks. Her voice is on the verge of breaking. “This is Heaven, where all the fucking good rich white people go? What the fuck?”
Everyone begins to talk at once, except for the Bleeding Nun, who stands silently, the blood on her face the reddest thing I’ve ever seen against all this white.
Suddenly I remember when I first met Salvadore and we began our trek to the Virgin City. When we first emerged from the electric forest—all that white space that crept up behind us with every step, wiping out the road, the trees, the sky. Everything.
I remember staring into that vast white space and struggling to see something—anything—and then I did. I saw some fleeting movement, too fast, too blurry to identify as anything but a trick of my imagination.
I saw something because I was trying to see something.
Looking around again, I see the faces of my companions and now they’re all silent, staring at me expectantly. “What?” I say.
“What?” They all reply at exactly the same time, in one single voice.
My voice.
Stumbling back a step, I shake my head. “What’s going on?”
Again, they all repeat my question, all their lips moving simultaneously, all their voices mine.
I look hard at Katina—young Katina, so much like myself when I was her age—and watch in fascinated horror as her head begins to melt like hot wax, her features slipping right off her face and dribbling down her neck and shoulders.
All of them are melting right before my eyes, each one of them a bubbling mass of flesh colored goop, their clothes melting right along with them and puddling on the floor of nowhere.
Jesus is the last to go and as I watch, his face doesn’t exactly melt, but morphs into mine. A masculine version of me, but still very clearly me.
“We were all you,” the Jesus-me says. “Every facet of you that ever
I say, “So, I assume we still have to take the stairs, right?”
“It’s not as impressive as you think up there,” Lucifer says. “The lower floors are where the fun is at.”
“I’m sure you would say that, but why don’t you just humor us for a minute.”
He sighs loudly and pouts out his lower lip. “Jay should take you. I hate it up there.”
We all look at Jesus, who has just lit up another doobie and is stroking his wispy beard in a thoughtful manner. He shrugs and says, “I’m down with that.”
Chapter 15
So, our parade has yet again increased, this time by two. Despite an endless stream of complaints, Lucifer has decided to tag along and he and Katina bring up the rear, whispering.
Ago and I follow Jesus up a flight of stairs, while Lithia, Jane 62 and the Bleeding Nun trail behind us. Jesus begins humming “Stairway to Heaven,” then laughs uproariously at his own joke. The rest of us chuckle politely but I know the others, like myself, think the messiah is a major dork as well as a hopeless stoner.
Eventually, the stairs end and we all crowd onto the small landing, waiting for Jesus to open the door. He places his hand on a highly polished gold knob and say, “Okay, you guys ready?”
There are a lot of groans but I say, “Yep, we’re ready.”
Jesus opens the door with a flourish and then steps back. Ago and I pass over the threshold first, completely astounded. The others follow us through and I can hear soft gasps behind me. We stare in silence for what feels like an eternity.
And then, Lithia’s voice: “What the hell is this? A joke?”
I blink at the vast whiteness of where we are. A bright blinding nothing. Absolute emptiness. When I turn around, I see my companions and not one other thing. We’re standing on air, it seems, and the door we just passed through no longer exists.
“I told you it was boring,” Lucy says.
“This is it?” Katina asks. Her voice is on the verge of breaking. “This is Heaven, where all the fucking good rich white people go? What the fuck?”
Everyone begins to talk at once, except for the Bleeding Nun, who stands silently, the blood on her face the reddest thing I’ve ever seen against all this white.
Suddenly I remember when I first met Salvadore and we began our trek to the Virgin City. When we first emerged from the electric forest—all that white space that crept up behind us with every step, wiping out the road, the trees, the sky. Everything.
I remember staring into that vast white space and struggling to see something—anything—and then I did. I saw some fleeting movement, too fast, too blurry to identify as anything but a trick of my imagination.
I saw something because I was trying to see something.
Looking around again, I see the faces of my companions and now they’re all silent, staring at me expectantly. “What?” I say.
“What?” They all reply at exactly the same time, in one single voice.
My voice.
Stumbling back a step, I shake my head. “What’s going on?”
Again, they all repeat my question, all their lips moving simultaneously, all their voices mine.
I look hard at Katina—young Katina, so much like myself when I was her age—and watch in fascinated horror as her head begins to melt like hot wax, her features slipping right off her face and dribbling down her neck and shoulders.
All of them are melting right before my eyes, each one of them a bubbling mass of flesh colored goop, their clothes melting right along with them and puddling on the floor of nowhere.
Jesus is the last to go and as I watch, his face doesn’t exactly melt, but morphs into mine. A masculine version of me, but still very clearly me.
“We were all you,” the Jesus-me says. “Every facet of you that ever
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