Escape from Hell by Larry Niven; Jerry Pournelle

Author:Larry Niven; Jerry Pournelle
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Science Fiction - Adventure, Occult, Fiction - Science Fiction, Niven, Larry - Prose & Criticism, Fiction, Science Fiction, Science Fiction - General, Adventure, Occult fiction, hell, General
ISBN: 9780765355409
Publisher: St. Martin's Press
Published: 2010-04-01T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

Seventh Circle, Third Round

The Violent Against God, Nature, And Art

Part Two

The Valley Of Desolation

* * *

There is a mountain there, that once was glad

With waters and with leaves, which was called Ida;

Now ‘tis deserted, as a thing worn out.

We were ready. We thanked Father Camillus and said our goodbyes, then hesitated at the door.

“Turn left or run uphill?” I asked Sylvia.

“Uphill,” she said firmly.

“What if it doesn’t work? We’ll be in the fire until we give up and go left. Maybe it would be better just to turn left and run.”

“Don’t be silly,” Sylvia said. “Neither one of us was sentenced to this desert. There won’t be a way to make us stay here. Isn’t that right, Father?”

“Truly I do not know. I confess curiosity, but not so much as to advise you either way.”

“Straight uphill,” Sylvia said. “Come on, Allen!” She opened the door and was gone.

I had to run after her. She scampered across the desert, ponytail flying, still joyful to have a body. As we ran the woods seemed steadily to get closer, and after a minute I gave up worrying about it. We ran hard, avoiding others. As we got closer to the woods there was no one around us. The woods were as desolate as ever, but that didn’t bother Sylvia.

“See! We’re here!” she said. “Now we keep moving, before I root again.”

“Do you think you might?”

“No, silly. I think I’m forgiven. Allen, you should have confessed.”

“Maybe, but I’m not sure what I ought to confess,” I told her. “Sure, I did a lot of bad things. I know I did, and I’m sorry about them. I was sorry about them before I died. I was sorry about the damn–fool stunt that killed me even when I was falling down the side of that building.” I took a deep breath. “And my worst sin was after I came here. I judged Benito and threw him in that pit.”

“You’ve already confessed that. And you rescued him. Don’t forget that.”

We turned left and moved along the edge of the woods, just above where fire fell but before the trees started. There was a little strip of grass here. It wasn’t peaceful. Fire flickered over shadows in the desert to our left. We could hear crashes and groans and screams to our right, and more screams of pain to our left. It stank, too, of burning flesh and moldering leaves.

“But Sylvia, I wasn’t sent to Hell for anything I did in life. I was in the Vestibule. Lukewarm. Not even enough conviction to be a heretic! So what do I confess, that I didn’t believe in God and I didn’t believe in atheism, either? What kind of sin is that?”

“Were there atheists among the Virtuous Pagans?”

“As far as I know, Lester was,” I told her.

We kept walking briskly along the perimeter. Sylvia was quiet for a long time. “But you don’t really know he was an atheist, do you?”

“Only what he said.”

“What a writer said. Poets don’t always mean what they say,” Sylvia said.

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