The Devil's Due

"You want me to fix you up?" Phineas asked then posed another query before Sam could reply. "Is that all? Well, sure, Sammy boy!" The ivory tuxedo-clad stranger did not wave his hand, nor did he snap his fingers. He merely blinked once. At the shuttering of his eyelids, Sam realized he was off his hands and knees and standing before his benefactor pain-free and seemingly no worse for wear from his time in the desert.

"How... how did you do that?!" Sam exclaimed as he checked himself over: No excruciating pain in his right side, no blood from his nose or mouth, and no disheveled hair or clothes battered from the wind and sand. He took a deep breath and felt no stabbing pain. He looked and felt exactly as he had before his attack in the driveway two days before.

Phineas put a hand to the side of his face as if he were telling Sam a big secret and said quietly, "If I told you, then I'd have to kill you..." The dark-skinned visitor then laughed again as if he had told the original joke. When he finished guffawing, Phineas looked Sam up and down as if sizing him up. "You look better, Sammy. But you're a little underdressed for the meeting." With a second noticeable blink from his new savior, Sam found himself dressed nearly the antithesis of Phineas in a black suit and shoes with white shirt and blue bow tie, but sans bowler on his head.

Sam, with a hand still at his previously injured right side, marveled at his newly acquired threads yet puzzled at Phineas' statement. "Meeting? Who're we going to meet?"

"Why, the One, of course," Phineas answered as if Sam should know what he meant all along. "The one who will put it all right for you. He has the power to give you what you really want. You DO know what you want, don't you, Sam?"

"What do I really want, Phineas?" Sam asked, even more puzzled than before.

"Revenge, of course," Phineas responded. "You know what they say about revenge, Sammy? That it is a dish best served cold. But I prefer a hot meal before a hot time in the old town. You hungry?"

Sam had not thought about it, but at the notion of a meal, his stomach quickly knotted, and pangs tore at him. "Famished," he answered.

"Let's get some food in you before I take you to the meeting," Phineas said as he placed an arm around Sam's shoulder. "Things always seem better after a good meal, don't you think?"

++++++++++

Sam Bailey's early existence was not what the average person would call ideal. His family was not well-to-do, most would describe it as dirt poor. Sam and his family, mother, father along with two older sisters, lived in an older clapboard farmhouse that created whistles through rotted cracks when the wind picked up. The house was situated on a couple of acres of land that, despite his mother's constant tending, produced few fresh vegetables from a withered garden. Sam's father worked at the local sawmill ten hours a day, six days a week for little pay in horrible conditions. Dutton Bailey would sneak scraps of lumber home into his old pickup truck to try to patch the gaps in the family home so that rain and snow would stay outside where it belonged.

Dutton worked odd jobs around the sparse neighborhood and nearby town of Gravel City to compensate for what he didn't earn at his full-time job. It also gave him an excuse to not come home until late most nights. Dutton may have had a family waiting for him at the uninsulated house twelve miles out of the city limits, but he would rather stay away as long as possible, most nights drinking cheap whiskey at an edge-of-town bar or in the cab of his truck, his scabbed and battered hands wrapped around a pint of rotgut. Dutton Bailey never physically abused his wife and children, but the emotional scars of his negligence were evident.

Sam Bailey was the only member of his family to pass the eleventh grade in high school. His father left school midway through his eighth school year due to lack of interest and his mother quit as a first-year student to work on her uncle's farm to help make ends meet with her parents. Both of Sam's sisters decided that ten years of organized education was enough for them also and set out to work in greasy spoon diners serving undercooked meals and hole-in-the-wall taverns slinging watered down drinks. Sam had three things going for him to keep him in school: intelligence, determination, and a strong right leg that helped land him on the varsity football team as both placekicker and punter.

Sam's aforementioned determination helped him land and keep his starting position on the team. He was not the biggest player, but he kept at his craft and stayed late after practice kicking field goals and extra points until he was barely able to walk. Sam was also determined to keep his starting status on the team despite both lack of interest from his parents and suitable means of transportation by working jobs so that he could afford to buy and fix up a 1985 Chevy Monte Carlo so that he didn't have to bum rides from teammates or miss practice altogether. It was not the prettiest auto in the high school parking lot, but Sam made sure it purred like a kitten with regular oil changes and tune-ups.

In the second to last game of his senior season, the Gravel City Raiders found themselves down by five points to their rivals, perennial powerhouse Brockton Bees. The Bees' star quarterback, Jesse Ocuna, was heavily recruited by top-tier universities and would ultimately go on to play for the University of Texas then as a journeyman backup in the NFL and CFL.

But on this day, he only had one thing on his mind: beating the team from the school that lay twenty-four miles west on State Road 64. Both teams were 8-0 and the winner of the contest would be a lock for the Michigan High School Athletic Association divisional playoffs as a number one seed.

Gravel City found themselves with a third and seven at Brockton's forty-seven-yard line with only four and a half minutes left in the fourth quarter. The Raiders QB, Erik Decker, dropped back to pass and was immediately sacked by a blitzing Brockton linebacker. Fourth down was announced over the public address system and Sam grabbed his helmet, fastening his chinstrap around the bottom of his face. As he began his trot on to the playing field, the Gravel City special teams coach stopped him on the sideline.

"Bailey," the young coach said into the earhole of Sam's helmet, "we're going to fake it. Pass to Landry on the right edge but only after he gets past the first down marker. Think you can do that?"

Sam said nothing, only smiled through his facemask and nodded slightly so that the other team wouldn't be tipped off to the treachery. Sam was also GC's emergency quarterback and he had taken both reps at QB in practice and had gone over this play numerous times. Sam trotted to midfield to join his teammates and let them in on the trick play.

"Don't fuck this up like you did that shank last week, Rusty!" leviathan offensive tackle and all-around jerk Joe Farly spit out in the huddle when Sam announced the play. Sam had earned the unceremonious nickname of Rusty after Farly, and other not-so-nice teammates saw him getting into his oxidizing car one night after practice.

Sam grabbed Farly by the facemask and brought him nose-to-nose, "Just keep those rushers off my back for three seconds, fat ass! If I get taken down because of you, we're gonna lose and I'm gonna slam my Size 11 cleat up your giant can! Now let's do this!"

Sam released Farly's face protector with a slight jerk downward then broke the huddle into formation. When the center snapped the ball, Sam went through his normal motions of punting the ball then sprinted three yards right to get in the clear to make the pass. The home crowd roared as he looked downfield to find Landry, Sam realized that the trick play had not fooled Brockton and his intended target was covered by two yellow and black clad defenders. It was too late for Sam to punt. He reversed his field and saw nothing but open yardage between him and the goal line for the score.

Sam jetted as fast as he could to the left sideline and cruised down the field, picking up the much-needed first down but he did not stop at the marker. Sam could smell the end zone and sprinted toward the white goal line. The crowd went wild as Sam ran over the hashmarks on the edge of the field, a shoo-in for the touchdown. A speedy defensive back was bearing down on him, but Sam had three steps on him. Sam took a quick glance at the DB then looked over to the sideline at his teammates and the cheerleaders shaking their pom poms in anticipation of his score.

Sam smiled as he focused his eyes back to the end zone in front of him then slipped backwards at the sight before him. A black man in a white suit and hat was on the field no more than two yards in front of him, and he was smiling at him. The black man took a sniff of a flower in his lapel buttonhole then looked straight at Sam and spoke.

"That quick boy behind you is comin,' son," the mystery man said. "Better get movin'."

Sam dug his heel into the turf to slow his progress so that he wouldn't slam into the stranger then fell backward at the six-yard line, the first down made but the score eighteen feet in front of him. The crowd collectively groaned as Sam fell to the grassy playing field. He heard the footsteps of the defender behind him and the referee's whistle blow ending the play. The Brockton defender ran up behind Sam and slapped the back of his helmet. "Nice move, kicker-boy! You see a ghost?"

Sam looked around while still seated on the ground. He saw no black man in a white suit on the field or anywhere in the stadium for that matter. He saw nothing but exasperated fans with their hands in the air wondering what they had just witnessed. "I think I did," he said to his opponent then got to his feet and trotted to the bench to hang his head. Both the special teams coach and head coach came to where he was sitting alone.

"Bailey!" the head coach screamed, "What the hell was that?! You looked like you hit a brick wall out there!"

"Sorry, coach," Sam sheepishly replied. "I slipped... I got the first down..." He waited, cringing in anticipation of the coach's response.

"I suppose you did," the coach answered, surprising Sam. "It was a good run for a kicker." Coach put his hand on Sam's right shoulder pad, "Don't worry, Sam. We'll get this one for you..."

Both coaches went back to the action on the field and left Sam sitting on the bench. He saw no more action that night other than an extra point after GC scored on the next play after his run. The Gravel City Raiders beat the Brockton Bees that night 29-27 after GC intercepted a pass in the end zone on Brockton's final play of the game. Gravel City lost in the divisional playoffs three weeks later, effectively ending Sam's football career. Although he was the number one punter in the league and ranked number seven in the state, he was not recruited by any universities and graduated with no plans for his future.

Sam had fond memories of his playing days in high school but the memory of the apparition he saw on the second to last regular season game of his senior year haunted him daily. Now, sitting across from the very apparition that stopped him from scoring a touchdown that night, Sam Bailey suddenly believed. He believed in ghosts, demons, Heaven, and Hell. And he believed this man could help him get his revenge on those that had tried to kill him.

++++++++++

"So, why did you appear to me that night on the football field?" Sam asked his benefactor between bites of his second medium-rare steak. Sam finished his first plate then realized he had not eaten in nearly three days and ordered another meal.

"I've always been with you, Sammy," Phineas replied as he sat across from the man he saved from the desert, an uneaten basket of French fries sitting on the table in front of him. The duo neither walked nor drove to the diner where they now sat in a booth with a chrome-trimmed table. Phineas merely blinked once more, and they both were standing outside the roadside restaurant named Dooley's. "I have appeared to you many times before. The football game is the only one you remember. I've been watching you a long time, Sam."

"But, why?" Sam queried to Phineas. "Why me? Can you see the future? Did you know this was going to happen to me?"

"I can see lots of things," the powerful being answered. "The past, the future, things that will happen, things that may happen..." With that, Phineas laid his palms out and conjured visions in the air above them. Visions of pain, worldwide war and famine, humanity's despair, and downfall. Sam closed his eyes and turned his head away from the visions before he spoke again.

"All this will happen because of me?" Sam asked on the verge of tears and suddenly not hungry. He pushed his plate away.

"No," Phineas responded, "these are things that MAY happen. Events are always in flux, Sam. The choices we make today have consequences for tomorrow. I know what WILL happen if you decide to refuse. Some of the things I just showed you MAY happen if you refuse. This is bigger than your revenge on your wife and those big fuckers that hurt you, Sam. Much bigger. My boss is not the most pleasant being to be around, but she knows when things have gone too far. That is why you need to come with me and see her."

"Wait," Sam interjected, "I thought you referred to your boss as 'He' earlier. Now it's 'She.' Which one is it?"

"It's whatever it wants to be, Sam," Phineas answered, "So don't be surprised with what you may see. If you are finished with your second steak, then we can go now."

The nausea in Sam's stomach caused by the visions had subsided but he still felt that he could eat no more of his meal. "Yes, I've had enough. And I am as ready as I'll ever be, I suppose."

"Good," Phineas said, drawing his reply out. Again, there was no wave of his ebony hand, no snap of his fingers, merely a blink of his eyes transported the two back to the desert, but not to the same locale where they had met. This area was more mountainous, and Sam found himself standing before a tall escarpment, a tower of stone that jetted upward into the night clouds.

"Where are we?" Sam asked. "This doesn't look like any mountain I've ever seen. At least not in North America anyway."

"It's a barrier..." Phineas responded, "And a gateway..." At his words, a cave opening appeared at the foot of the enormous rock structure and an instant heat spewed from the aperture.

"Is... Is this the gateway to Hell?" Sam hesitantly asked Phineas.

"Sooooo... You are finally catching on!" Phineas exclaimed then laughed as if he had heard the best joke ever. "I'm glad we're on the same page now, Sammy Boy!"

"Well, it's my hallucination so I suppose we should be in agreement."

Phineas produced an annoyed look on his face, "You still don't get, do ya, boy!" He bent down to pick up a dried-out tree branch at his feet. At the touch of his hand, the stick contorted then writhed, changing into the very rattlesnake that Sam had encountered before the dark man appeared to him.

"Do you believe in God, Sam?" Phineas asked as he held the serpent in one hand and stroked its scaly hide with his other. "Because if you do," he continued not waiting for Sam's reply, "then you must believe in the other side, the side that Mankind proposes to resist but, more often than not, gravitates toward. We all want, Sam. Our desires drive us. Drive us to make more money, to have the things we want- a house, a car, a woman- all that we desire. Revenge can be that desire also, Sam. But God does not answer those prayers. He is not concerned with what we want, only what we believe."

Phineas took a step closer to Sam then held the snake out to him. "Do you believe that this little fella will sink his teeth into you and put his poison in your veins if I move another step closer to you? Does it seem like a hallucination now? Do you think God will stop this beast from killing you?"

Sam's eyes went wide as the venomous reptile hissed and lunged slightly at him, its needle-like fangs gleaming in the shining moonlight. Sam took a step back. "Yes, I'd say I believe that very thing, Phineas."

Phineas smiled then set the rattler back on the ground. In an instant, the serpent changed back into the branch it had been before Sam's companion had touched it.

"Very well then," Phineas said as he brushed the dirt off his hands the motioned toward the cave. "After you..."

Sam said nothing, only entered the hollow with Phineas close behind him. The cave's darkness quickly illuminated after a few steps inside and Sam saw that he and his new companion were travelling down a stone ramp that looked to have been cut out easily with a sharp knife. Sam touched the side of the trail and felt warmth and smoothness on the rock wall. To get to their destination, Sam thought, they would have to travel thousands of miles beneath the Earth's surface. Less than ten minutes into their journey, Sam spied a door, emblazoned in red with a 24K gold knob and knocker. He turned to Phineas and spoke.

"What? No sign hanging over the door? No 'Abandon Hope All Ye Who Enter Here'?"

"There's lots of hope here, Sam," Phineas responded as he stepped in front of Sam and produced a key, golden as the door's accessories, and slipped it into the slot. "But hope is not free here. Just like back home. There is always a price to pay. I'll let someone else explain that to you."

Phineas turned the key and twisted the gleaming gold knob. The crimson door opened effortlessly on silent hinges, and the white tuxedo-clad creature walked over the threshold into a larger stone opening. Sam followed him in and saw nothing he had expected. No interminable fire and brimstone, no tormented souls writhing in agony, no torturing demons causing pain to the unfortunate. Sam only saw two lit torches at either side of the carved-out room, two sets of curved stairways leading to the floor with a table and two chairs facing one another, the furniture seemingly fashioned from cut and polished alabaster.

"Is this where we meet your boss, Phineas?" Sam asked as he turned to face his new acquaintance. "Him? Or Her? Or whatever it is?"

Before Phineas could answer, another voice, remarkably familiar to Sam's ears echoed throughout the stone parlor. "Yes, it is, Sam Bailey. I have been expecting you." Sam heard clicks on the smooth rock steps that led to the seating area and focused his eyes and attention on the figure descending. The creature spoke again.

"Welcome home, Phineas," the being said as it continued down the stairs toward the setting. "My thanks and appreciation to you for a job well done."

"My pleasure, Boss," Phineas replied as he tipped his bowler to his employer. He waved his hand toward the table and chairs, inviting Sam to meet the demonic CEO in the middle of the room. Sam stepped forward and was finally able to see Phineas' superior. It was in the form of a woman. Not just any woman. A familiar woman. Dressed in a red dress, black silk stockings and four-inch heels, her fiery-red hair coifed seductively, Sam felt his groin involuntarily stir as the image of his wife completed her traverse down the stone steps to meet him at the black table.

"Veronica?!" Sam said astonished.

"Of course, Sam," the beautiful woman answered. "Who else did you expect to meet? The devil with horns and a pitchfork?" The Veronica creature laughed the same laugh that Sam had heard before his attack then motioned for him to sit across from her. "Please have a seat, Sam. We have a lot to discuss."