Heath Thornton had heard many rumors about himself, and not all of them were true.  

They said that Thornton had been born a cop, with a badge and gun in his hand as he elbowed his way out of his mother's womb.  That was not true.  

They said his father had been a gangster and his mother a whore.  That was true; at least until the day in '51 when he turned seventeen, joined the police force and put them both inside Dallas County Jail for life.  

They said he shot a man in Reno just to watch him die.  Thornton didn't remember Reno, but there had been a lot of men, a lot of towns and a lot of bullets.  He wouldn't have shot someone just for the hell of it though. There was always a reason.  Every bullet Thornton ever shot bore the name of a lowlife murdering bastard.  He had that to be proud of, if you could call it pride.

They said that after he shot his last bullet and jailed his last scumbag, Thornton handed in his badge and just up and died of boredom.  

The truth was that after he died Thornton got sent to the other place - to Los Angeles, Heaven.  He nearly died again when he asked at the pearly gates and got told they didn't even have a jailhouse.  Within a half-hour of arriving in paradise he'd put in a request and got transferred down to dirty, lawless, El Diablo.

The truth didn't make any difference to the inhabitants of El Diablo.  Whether you chose to be here or whether you were sent here from sheer damn bad luck like everyone else, you were stuck here.

Heath Thornton had caught the overnight Pullman from Los Angeles to El Diablo.  As he stepped from the train, wreathed in smoke, he pulled his collar up against the biting desert winds that rattled the shutters on the decrepit station house.  He had no luggage with him but a few dollars and his gun Bessie, with whom he'd been reunited in death.  Shouldering his way through the crowds of shadowy figures, he made his way to the station exit and saw, for the first time, the town of El Diablo that would be his home for the rest of eternity.  He had arrived with big plans.  There are no streets meaner or dirtier than the streets of El Diablo, Hell, but Heath Thornton was setting out to clean them up.  He had plenty of time, after all.

The main street was flyblown, dark and ashy.  Chemical smog and mist mixed to form impenetrable clouds which swathed the upper stories of the hunchbacked buildings.  If a man had any lungs left to lose, he shouldn't make a home in El Diablo.  The walls were covered with fire-escapes, tattered posters and graffiti.  Litter bags spilled from alleys into the streets, mixing their sweet stench with the pervading odor of brimstone and human excrement.

There was no law in El Diablo.  

Since the advent of daytime TV talkshows, the demons had left the tortured souls to their own devices.  The jailhouse next the station, once filled with screaming agony, was now in use as a skate park.  There were scant few figures visible through the mist as Thornton paced down Main Street.  They were furtive and hooded, more rodent than human.  Only the pettiest of petty criminals had stayed in El Diablo.  All the respectable crooks had made good and moved to the suburbs of the more fashionable towns long since; to Dis, where the old mob bosses and crimelords lived with their neat detached bungalows and their golf courses, or to Pandemonium, where the young and hip went to party.

Heath Thornton had the promise of an office on the second floor of one of the Main Street blocks.  He pulled out a scrap of paper to remind him of the address, found the place, and hauled himself up two flights of steps.  The elevator was broken and full of piss.  Thornton figured to bed down on the couch in the office, if there was one, or the floor, if there wasn't.  He needed to take a step back and think things through.  What sort of an idiot chucks away a place in heaven?  He had big plans, but reality was something else. Law had come to El Diablo, sure, but with no badge and no jailhouse, he was just another schmuck who'd gone to Hell to pick a fight with the locals.

Thornton's office was a small room above "Bob's kabobs".  On the floor above him there was an apartment inhabited by a mad old woman who had adopted all the neighborhood cats and fetuses.  Thornton's office was a mess; the desk and chairs were covered in junk and dust and he could barely see the floor.  Knackered as he was, he uncovered two plastic chairs from the general mess and stretched himself across them to sleep.  The cats and fetuses upstairs fought all night yowling and crying; the whole place stank.  The stairwell was spattered with diarrhea and umbilical mucus.  Thornton scarcely slept.  In the morning, when he awoke stiff and sore from his night draped across the two chairs, he found a blind embryo squalling outside his door.  He carried the putrid thing back up the stairs and dumped it on the old woman's doormat.

He mustn't give in to despondency.  The key was to get to work straight away.  Thornton left his office without shaving, locked the door behind him, and made a trip to the labor exchange.  The light, such as it was, barely improved El Diablo's appearance.  Some teenagers were setting fires in the parking lot and jumping into them while younger kids watched.  The youths pulled grotesque faces as the flames melted their features and burned away their hair, then jumped from the flames burned all over and still sizzling and dripping fat.  They lurched towards the children, who squealed and giggled as they tried to evade the hideous things and avoid being hit by flying globules of flesh.  Thornton patted Bessie and frowned as he entered the labor exchange.

It was still early.  Thornton was surprised to find that he was not alone at the exchange.  In addition to the psoriatic pederast behind the desk, a few unemployable waifs and strays loitered glumly by the "help wanted" cards.  There was no unemployment benefit in hell.  Unlike in pinko commie heaven, you worked or you starved.  Thornton approved of this.  Although starvation wasn't fatal for the already-dead, it was pretty darned unpleasant.

A skinny kid in his late teens followed Thornton through the doorway of the center in a daze.  He was dressed neat enough, in a button-down shirt and slacks, but he looked as green as he was pale.  He went to the Help Wanted section and studied a few cards before writing down the numbers laboriously.

"Hey, kid," Thornton found himself crossing over to the boy, "what kind of job do you have in mind?"

"I'll try anything.  I been a dogfood canner, till I got laid off yes'dy.  Then I was walking home after they tole me I got no more work coming and I just never saw the truck.  Just woke up and I was here, just like that, only this morning."

"Well, I reckon maybe after that you deserve a day off, huh?"

"No sir.  The other boys tell me how's I can make good and save up enough to buy me a ticket to heaven.  Well, that's what I'm going to do.  My mom gonna be waiting for me there.  She wouldn't 'spect me to go hanging around in no hell."

"Now, come on kid, you can't just buy your way into heaven like that.  There's border patrols, angel guards, the whole nine yards.  You only get into heaven by, well, being good and shit.  That's how it works."

"Naw, sir.  Not what the boys say.  They say, tithes and that, you useta buy up a place in heaven while you was alive.  They reckon it's des-crim-i-nash-un not to be able to do it after youse dead."

"Well, whatever you say.  I'm new in town myself.  I'm going to get myself established, but I reckon when I do I'll need an assistant.  You still need something, you look me up."  Heath handed the kid the scrap of paper with his address on.  He went up to the desk and grabbed a couple of blank cards and a pen.  He wrote a brief message on each:

                                                       Heath Thornton – Security Services
                                  Private Detective, Bounty Hunter, Bodyguard, Investigative Services
                                                      Discretion and Professionalism Assured

He added a contact address, and stuck them up on the "Help available" and "Professional services" boards.  He left the labor exchange and went back to fix up his office.

That evening, after using the last of his funds on a trip to the supermarket, Thornton sat in front of the indestructible rubber plant left by the previous occupant of the office.  He poured himself a couple of fingers of whiskey in a mug, and surveyed the room.  The litter had been cleared from the floor and he had swept the hallway outside.  He had cleaned the kitchenette and found a couple of chipped mugs.  He'd uncovered an old couch and the desk.  He'd found all the drawers for the filing cabinet and replaced them, so the place looked seedy but neat enough.  That would do for now.  He'd found an old can of paint and he'd painted "Heath Thornton Security Services" on the door.  All in all, a good day's work.  Thornton sat back and took a long swallow of his whiskey.

There was a knock.  Before he could get up to answer it, the door began to open. A red high-heeled shoe appeared through it.  The shoe was topped with a leg, which led upwards and further upwards and joined, eventually, another leg.  The long, gorgeous legs were topped with a body like a coke bottle and a rack like a pair of loosely tethered hot-air balloons.  The ensemble was topped off with a pout like anaphylactic shock and a tidal wave of blonde.

"Wow." Thornton said.

"Is that how you greet all your clients?"

"Uh."

"Lilith.  Charmed."  She extended a perfectly manicured hand.  He took it.

"Um..." he began.  Lilith tittered like he'd made a joke.

"So, you're the big hunk o'beef who's going to take me back to paradise."

"Paradise?  Oh, Paradise.  I am?  And why would I do that?"

"Because you can't resist a damsel in distress.  Because," she paused to adjust her black bustier for maximum effect, "because you'll be, uh, amply rewarded."

"I'll want a deposit up front."

"Oh, darling, details.  I never discuss details without a drink in my hand."

"So, why me?  I hear how anyone can buy their way into heaven now."

"Details, honey, details."  Lilith pointed at the whiskey bottle.  Thornton poured the dame a drink and waited while she downed it.

"So?" he prompted.

"Mean old Lucie – Lucifer - has a thing for poor little me.  He wants to lock me away so I can be his for ever and ever.  I want a big brave policeman to steal me and take me to heaven.  Pwease?"

"So you can't just buy a ticket and ride the train?"

"I got the tickets.  I can ride the train, but only if someone will take out the border guards."

"The guards ain't working for Lucifer, babe.  They're on the other side."

"Oh, did I not mention?  Mean old fuddy-duddy beardy bastard in the clouds has it in for me too.  They do gang up on me.  It's so... ungentlemanly."

"So, you want me to shoot a load of angels and whothehellknows what else just to get you on the train.  What's in it for me?"

"A badge.  A jailhouse, a badge, and the run of the city.  This town is yours for the taking."

"And is it yours for the giving?"

"I have contacts."

"What do you plan to do when you get to paradise?"

"Details, darling.  But, oh!  The time.  Must dash.  Packing to do.  I'll meet you here tomorrow morning.  Here's a little something on account."  Lilith pecked his cheek, leaving a red lipstick mark.  She departed, leaving a trace of scent and pheromones.

Thornton slept fitfully.  He had a head full of plans.  Sure, he had a price.  She'd known what to offer, that was all.  A few more bullets between here and there could scarcely matter.  It can't be murder if someone's already dead.  He was already in the right place for a murderer, in any case.

The day dawned red and dark.  Thornton woke early.  He dressed, shaved and cleaned Bessie.  He reloaded the gun and replaced it in its thigh holster.  He paced the room, watered the stupid plant, checked and re-checked the gun.

At ten, there was a knock. He wrenched the door open instantly.  She was standing there in a low-cut black leather coat.  She had a small overnight bag which he picked up and hoisted to his shoulder.  She looked nervous.

"Ready?" he asked.

"As I'll ever be.  C'mon sugar."

They walked to the station and showed their tickets.  The Heaven-bound train was standing next the platform.  There were not many passengers; only the newly-rich and the newly-good.  Looking around, Thornton chose the back end car and held the door for Lilith.  He stowed her bag in the overhead locker and hung his head out of the window, scouting the layout.  There were four cars ahead of this one.  In this car, there were a couple of people at the far end sitting alone.  

This part was almost too easy.  Without a hitch, the train began to pull away.  Thornton, ever vigilant, noticed movement out of the window.  A boy was running alongside the train, pursued by the same station ticket inspectors they'd breezed past with such ease.  Thornton did a double take and realized it was the kid from the labor exchange.  Without thinking, he yelled out the window.  "Hey, kid.  Hey!"  Thornton stuck one arm out of the window, opened the latch, and threw the door wide.  He planted his feet firmly and leaned out.  The kid drew level and caught hold of Thornton's arm just as the train began to gather speed.  By the time the kid was seated opposite them and the door was closed behind him, the station inspectors had disappeared in the distance.

The train rattled on for about two hours.  Lilith spent the time teasing the kid and making him blush.  The scenery wasn't much to look at; just endless desert, but Thornton stared out anyway.  

The train began to slow as the horizon grew nearer.  Thornton was suddenly alert.  Lilith looked at him and nodded as if to say, "Do what you got to do."  He removed Bessie from her holster and motioned Lilith and the kid down onto the floor.  The train halted on the brink of nothing.  The seven angels of the border guard descended from the air, carrying their assault rifles.  Starting at the front of the train, they worked their way through the cars checking tickets and passes, and collecting border tolls.  Thornton screwed on his silencer.  Lining up the shot, he took out one angel without the others even noticing.  The second shot was less lucky; one of the angel's companions saw him go down and raised the shout.  All at once, the remaining border guards converged on the final car, spraying bullets.  One of the people from the far end screamed as an angel's bullet found him.  That's gotta smart, Thornton thought to himself wryly.  He kept the gun steady and shot again.  Another one down, four to go.

Thornton was absolutely calm.  A bullet grazed his shoulder, but he barely felt it.  He heard a groan from near his feet, but his feet were a million miles away.  He shot again and again, took cover, reloaded, and shot again until there were seven dead angels staining the desert sand.  The train, sticking to its scheduled timetable, pulled away into the nothingness that marked the edge of the desert.

Only then did Thornton return to his own body.  His hands began to shake where a minute ago they'd been rock-steady.  His shoulder hurt, all of a sudden.  There was a red puddle on the carriage floor.  Lilith lay with the kid half-covering her.

"Your pet had his uses," she purred, "but he's heavier than he looks.  Lose the carcass and help me up."

The kid was dead again, that was clear.  In a couple of hours he'd be back to square one, El Diablo, like a never-ending game of chutes and ladders.  Hopefully this time he'd have more sense about him.  Meanwhile, he was kind of a depressing decorative feature.  Thornton did as Lilith had suggested, and hefted the corpse out of the window into the nothing.

The train rolled on.  They slept.  Lilith went to the bathroom to change out of her bloodstained clothes and into a short, tight red dress. Thornton hadn't thought to pack.  They both slept some more.  Gradually, they began to pass the overcrowded tenements and run-down chapels and public parks that comprised the suburbs of Los-Angeles.  The houses gave way to apartment blocks and offices, and then to enormous glass and chrome edifices stretching beyond the clouds.  The train pulled into Los Angeles central, and the passengers alighted.

Thornton made to pick up the overnight bag, but Lilith got there first.  She grabbed it, got off the train and slammed the door in his face.  "I can take it from here," she called through the open window as she walked away.  "The train's due back out in five minutes.  Just speak to Lucie when you get back, hun, tell him you got me here safe and he'll sort out your little jailhouse for you.  Play your cards right and he'll throw in a fleet of squad cars, if I know my Lucie."

"But you said you and Lucifer...." He began, but Lilith was too far away to hear.

He saw that shapely ass disappear through the thronging crowds of Los Angeles Central Station, and knew he'd been had.  This was all just some plan Lilith and Lucifer had cooked up between them, he figured.  He wondered what Lilith planned to do now she was in heaven.  Nothing good, he'd have been willing to bet.  Without really thinking it through, he tucked Bessie down the back of his pants and hopped off the train.

Lilith had a good start on him, but he had the advantage.  With her swaying hips and her little red dress she stood out like a cold nipple among the sea of white-robed long-haired hippy-types gliding around the station.  He followed at a discreet distance.

Thornton kept well back as Lilith moved quickly through the station concourse and out into the great gleaming sunlit city of LA.  He hid himself in the crowd watching Heavenly Choir F perform Bach's 'Mass in B Minor'.  Crossing the street, Lilith climbed into a cab waiting at the taxi rank.  Thornton swore loudly, earning himself a reproving look from the Dominion conducting the choir.

Thornton ran across the street and jumped into another cab.  "Where to?" The driver asked.

"Follow that cab." Thornton yelled, pointing.  The driver, a recent immigrant to Heaven, grinned.  "No, seriously," Thornton said.  "And step on it."

"Yessir," the cabbie replied, pulling away from the rank.  Thornton realized he had no money except the silver dollar on a chain around his neck.  The cab screeched around a corner, then another.  They stopped for lights then took another corner.  Suddenly, the taxi in front of them was gone.

"Damn," Thornton said, "We lost it."

"Nosir.  It pulled up at the Raddisson Paradise, just back there.  I was driving past to make it look like we weren't following it.  Like in the movies."

Thornton thanked the driver and tossed him the silver dollar with an apologetic shrug.  He ran back the half block to the hotel entrance and strode, only slightly out of breath, into the hotel foyer.  It was spectacular.  Fountains played over rocks, their spray misting the foliage around them.  Dimple-cheeked bellhop boys dressed in burgundy suits with gold frogging stood around decoratively.  The polished marble floors reflected off the chrome and glass everywhere, and off the gold mosaic tiles of the ceiling.  It was spectacularly tacky.  Lilith was just disappearing into one of the glass elevators.  She punched in a code and the elevator began its ascent.  She didn't see Thornton.

"Hey, pal," Thornton said to the man on reception, "The lady there, she dropped her purse.  Which floor?"

"Fourteen forty-four sir.  The penthouse suite."

"Thanks."  That was the good thing about heaven – everyone was so goddamned gullible.

Thornton climbed into one of the other elevators and entered the floor number.  After five minutes the ascent had not slowed.  Thornton, who was not good with heights, was trying not to look down.

The elevator finally arrived.  The doors slid open noiselessly to reveal a pure white foyer leading to a part-open doorway.  Thornton crept out and put his face to the crack in the door frame.  Lilith was standing opposite a youngish guy in a beard and a silk dressing gown who was sprawled on an enormous circular daybed.  The view from all four sides of the room was breathtaking.  Living in this place could give you a power complex.  Even the angels, flying a thousand feet off the ground, looked like ants below.  In the apartment everything was white.  Even standing in the foyer, Thornton, with his stiffening shoulder and blood crusted on his shirt, felt dirty.

The young man and Lilith were talking.

"Lilith, baby, how did you get here anyway?"

"You know your daddy was trying to keep me away.  He had the border guards watching for me.  I conned some sap into helping me out.  I'm afraid we made a teensy bit of a mess."

"Lilith, honey, you don't know how I missed you."

"Tell it to your daddy."

"I can't tell him anything." Jesus replied, whining, "He's pissed off with me.  He's refusing to see anyone again, says it's the seventh day and he's resting.  For all the good He's done, it might as well have been the seventh day for the last 2000 years."

"Oh, poor baby Jesus.  Come here, honey, and let your Lilly make it all better."

Lilith clasped Jesus to her bosom.  She pulled out a long and ornate silver-colored hairpin and thrust it into the holy jugular.  As He thrashed and bled out, she continued to hold His head firmly between her breasts.  Thornton watched from the doorway as she let him fall lifeless to the floor.

"Poor spoilt little baby Jesus," Lilith spat, kicking him.  "Your Daddy's going to reward me for this."

"You've got some talking to do," Thornton walked into the room holding his gun leveled with her head.

"Oh, Heathie, really.  You were very helpful but I don't think you're needed any more."

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't blow your worthless head off."

"God told me to do it."

"Why would God want to kill his own son?"

"Again, you mean?  Oh, families, you know how it is.  They probably had some silly argument over the remote control.  Who cares?"

"I care."  Thornton held the gun steady, and squeezed the trigger slightly to show he meant business.

"All I know is, God placed a Help Wanted ad offering a free pass to heaven for anyone willing to take out His son.  I took the job.  You helped, as I recall.  It's going to be interesting to see what God thinks about all this, because actually," she tittered, "We've had a little falling out ourselves.  He banished me to El Diablo forever.  I don't mind Pandemonium; the shopping's good.  Even Dis would be alright if I spiced things up a bit, but ugh, El Diablo?  In these heels?  Well, He'll have to keep His word now, anyway.  I've gotten rid of that pest for him, after all."

"So, what do I do now?"

"Well, you slink off back to El Diablo with your tail between your legs."

"And the jailhouse, the badge, the squad cars?  When do I get those?"

"Are you really so naive as all that?"

Thornton let the gun fall from his fingers.  He hung his head.  Lilith laughed.

He charged forwards, barreling into her.  Momentum carried him across the floor.  Glass shattered as they fell through the window together.  They kept falling.  It was a long way down.






Thornton got off the train in El Diablo and turned his collar up against the biting desert wind.  Funny how dying for a second time felt like coming home.  He half expected Lilith to get off the train with him, but he couldn't see her.  He headed through the station.  Jesus was standing by the turnstiles.

"Hey, uh... hey," Jesus said awkwardly.

"Heath Thornton.  Hi."  

"She got you too then?  Lilith's a bitch."

"I got her as well.  Or I think I did."

"Yeah, she'll have gone straight back to LAX arrivals."

"Lilith gets to go to heaven?"

"Well, yeah, she killed me.  That was the deal.  My dad, well, he got pissed at me and offered a bounty."

"What did you do to make him so angry?"

Jesus checked the items off on his fingers, "Totaled His wingèd chariot.  Let too many of the wrong type of people into heaven.  Used the Flaming Sword of the Archangels for making s'mores.  Took a leak in the Ark of the Covenant.  Graffitied the Throne of the Spirit.  Paid the Whore of Babylon to do a lapdance at the Council of Virtues...  Uh, there are more, I think."

Thornton began to walk away in disgust.

"Wait up! Hey, buddy, wait up," Jesus called.

"What?"

"Well, I'm not too popular around here.  I could use a friend.  I was thinking, uh, maybe you and me should team up.  Two good men, huh, we could really clean up this town.  What do you say?"

Thornton spat at the ground next to Jesus' feet.  "There are no good men in El Diablo," he said.  He turned and walked away.