The road was deserted, a long stretch of cold country asphalt we called The Careful Mile. In the dead of winter patches of black ice crept up from the river and across the road. Invisible and unavoidable.
“Slick fingers,” Grandpa always said when he gave us driving lessons as kids. “They’ll poke you right into the water if you aren’t ready for ‘em, so go as slow as you think you need to, then go slower.” I would have avoided the road altogether, but mom was sick that day and I wanted to bring her some soup and tea. And since I’d worked all day and run to the store after, it was dark by the time I set out. Nothing to be done about it, the river road was the only direct route there. Any other route would have added a good forty-five minutes to the trip. I bopped along, singing to myself to keep out the dark. When I hit the spot in the middle of the Mile where the radio always cuts out, I reflexively reached for the dial with one hand.
The steering wheel jerked from my other hand. I remember my shoulder hitting the door and reaching for wheel, but as I reached out, the car flipped and hit the water, breaking the window. The river rushed in, I barely had time to register the cold before my heart stopped, or shock set it, I don’t really know. But I was numb all over. I remember feeling calm. I remember apologizing to Mom for driving too fast, and then just, accepting it. The end.
The darkness was, at first, disorienting, I didn’t know up from down or left from right, but then I saw a pinpoint of light. I thought, this is it, this is what all those near death people talk about. I took a step, and the darkness made sense. There was forward and there was back. I didn’t need to know more.
I went forward. The light grew and pulsed a shimmering white. I don’t think I realized that I was getting warmer until the light was close. But then it was hot, blazing. I paused and brought my hand out in front of me to shield my eyes from the glare. Red, bubbling blisters erupted on my palm. This is Hell, I thought. I’ve been sent to Hell. In all of the near death reports I’ve heard, no one has ever come back from Hell. I turned. I would be the first. I was not doing this.
A voice came rolling around me like a hot wind, halting my steps, “But when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away.” I knew that was from the Bible, 1 Corinthians somewhere. It continued, “As Adam gave Eve a rib, thou shalt return thy bones to God.” That was not in the Bible, as far as I knew. Not that I was an expert, by any means, but Mom had insisted on Bible study every Sunday for most of my childhood, so I wasn’t exactly a novice either.
I turned again and took a step closer to this ardent Heaven. The pain was something I don’t now how to describe, I’ve tried to find the words. Nothing compares. Like laying your entire body on a knife’s edge. I screamed into the bright void and lifted my hands up again, the blisters burst, flesh peeled back and away from expanding muscle. I watched myself cook, get tender and pink, and drop from the bone. I felt my blood boiling. I felt my eyes expand in their sockets. Everything was pain and pressure. I had the comically grotesque image of a split, bubbling barbecue hotdog dancing toward its doom on boney legs.
I can’t explain how I saw what I saw, or why no one else has seen the Heaven I did. Maybe I saw it with my subconscious, maybe my soul, but I know It’s the truth. As I walked through the light, the flesh fell from my body. My organs bubbled and steamed as they fell to the ground. There was ground now, dry, cracked dirt. The voice said again, “Be perfect, like your Heavenly Father is perfect.”
I looked around. There were bones everywhere. Mountains of bones. A landfill of wasted humans. I looked down, I still had some meat on me. I understood, when faults burned away and the wickedness of flesh was gone, what was left but bones? Were the bones out there self aware? My brain would cook, would my memories evaporate, too? Nothing seemed to be moving around in that wasteland beyond.
“Fuck this,” I said. The light went out. Cold so absolute it was a solid thing sitting on my chest engulfed me. I took a breath to fill my body with its icy relief. An EMT loomed into view…
I do things differently these days. Yeah, I still bring Mom soup and give money to bums, I don’t see the harm in being decent to other people. But I praise the Dark Lord every chance I get. I’ve seen Heaven, and I’d rather take my chances in Hell.