A Clueless Refugee at the Border Crossing to leave Hell

A Rare and Unusual Birthday Gift Part II

I wrote the story in the following link yesterday. It’s the prelude to this story.

Although this can stand on its own, it is part two of the story above.

Now that I was leaving, I couldn’t recall when or why I entered Hell in the first place.

After a short walk down a dimly lit tunnel, Beth and I arrived at the border checkpoint to leave Hell. Except for the two of us and a bored-looking border agent, the place looked desolate.

I turned to Beth to confirm, “This is the exit from Hell?” I asked quizzically, “Where are the throngs of people clamouring to escape?”

“Ego and denial are powerful forces,” Beth replied.

“Did you ever stop to think that you were in Hell?” she countered.

She knew the answer to that. She had a point. I didn’t know. I would have never guessed it. If we believe our cultural assumptions and the way Hell is presented to us as a dramatic fiery inferno full of souls screaming in agony, then we are open to being blindsided, deceived by the real Hell.

It’s nothing like the superficial image, the children’s tale we are taught to believe. It has its own culture. It has its own set of rules. The assumptions people make in the world I was leaving were just as subtle and in the background as they are in any nation on Earth.

Instinctively, I pulled off my backpack and placed it on the unused conveyor belt of the powered down x-ray machine. The Border Patrol agent stood up, grabbed my bag and opened it herself to examine the contents. The border crossing appeared so unused that even 1 agent seemed like too many.

She threw me a stare as she rifled through my belongings. She zipped it up and motioned for me to come to her. As I went to pick up my bag, she stopped me, placing her hand over my bag.

“Open it,” she commanded.

Confused, but intrigued, I did as she asked.

“What’s this?” she asked, pointing nervously at my laptop.

“It’s my computer,” I said.

The agent shot a look at Beth then back at me.

“What is it for? What does it do?” she continued to interrogate me.

“Um, accesses information?” I answered with some hesitation.

“It won’t be a problem.” Beth interrupted, giving the agent a look as if to say, “don’t make me explain any more. I’m in charge here.”

The agent seemed satisfied enough and didn’t actually care to pursue the matter further. “He’s your problem,” she said releasing my bag.

“What was that? What does she mean by that?” I turned towards Beth.

“Where you are going is very different than where you’ve been,” Beth said.

Her answer hit me in a way I hadn’t expected. I still couldn’t recall how I arrived in Hell. I didn’t know if I had been there for an hour, 6 months, 30 years, or even longer.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“Back to life,” was her response.

Before I could pursue the matter further, there was the sound of movement and voices approaching from the tunnel. We were about to have some unexpected company.

A short moment later I could make out the short stature of Archie the Architect leading a small band of regular-sized people towards the border checkpoint. As they got closer, I recognized my dad and my stepmother. They were accompanied by one of my stepbrothers and a stepsister.

“Big man, are you?” My stepmother started in on me. “Think you can make this decision all on your own without even discussing it with your family, do you? What in Hell do you think your doing?!” came the accusation from my stepmother.

I found her choice of words ironic.

“I’m going back to life,” I answered sarcastically looking at Beth.

“You are such a moron. Idiot! You don’t know, do you? You have no idea what’s in store for you on the other side?” my stepmother shot back.

She was right. I didn’t have a clue.

My father spoke up next. “You ungrateful piece of shit. I should have never brought you here. Do you know what you’re giving up? Do you know what you’re walking into? Well, you’re on your own now, I give up on you. You’re not worth the trouble.” He shook his head and turned to walk away, exasperated.

“You’ve really done it this time,” said my stepbrother. A look of contempt crossed his face, “Screw you!” He turned away to follow my father.

“You think you know everything, but you don’t know jack shit.” It was my stepsister’s turn to admonish me. “You’re no better than the rest of us, you know. In fact, you’re a bigger asshole because you think you’re better than us.” She let out a deep laugh, “You’ll see. You’ll find out. You’re giving up everything for nothing!” With that, she turned away from me joining the rest of my family.

“You have no idea how much I did for you,” the Architect was going to throw in his two-cents as well. “You don’t remember anything of your life before coming here. You don’t even know who you are. You don’t know your name. You don’t know if you’re young, old, or middle-aged. You don’t know anything!

For all you know you could be bankrupt, lying in a coma in a hospital, separated from your wife, with a daughter who despises you. You don’t know what led you to come here. For all you know, you could have a debilitating illness running its course in your body with only one day left to live! I feel sorry for you, old friend. You’ve always been prone to making stupid mistakes, but this one, oh boy. You made the stupidest decision of your life when you walked out of my workshop.”

He turned away and walked back to join my family in the tunnel back to Hell.

“You are pathetic! A loser! You don’t deserve to be part of this family!” My stepmother got in the last word before my farewell party disappeared down the tunnel.

I looked at Beth. “Is what they are saying true?”

“I can’t tell you. I’m not allowed to say anything about your life. You have to remember on your own,” said Beth.

I suddenly felt a burst of pain in my right hand. It was arthritis. I massaged my hand, wondering if what my family said was true. Were they even my real family?

Had I just given up everything for nothing? Did I just give up my only chance at living a full, “normal” life? Did I just walk into my own death? A death to be followed by a harsh judgement for turning towards Hell, abandoning my actual life?

I recalled what the Architect said about me being a sickly child. I recalled him saying how he saved me from breaking my leg when I was younger. What else had he done for me that I was unaware of?

Still, better to die in truth than to live a lie, I thought. I had to believe that I was doing the right thing, no matter the consequences. I had to face my real life, whatever that meant.

I couldn’t stay where I was knowing what I now knew. I had to have faith that facing the truth and owning my personal responsibility with maturity was a better choice than living in denial, living in a manufactured lie.

I was in pain and I was tired. It had been a very exhaustive day. My life, or what I thought was my life, changed in the blink of an eye. It completely flipped upside-down in an instant. Everything I thought I knew to be true was gone.

I began to reflect on the place I was leaving. Hell meant being in denial while living a lie. It was subtle, and it was personal. It wasn’t anything like what I was told Hell was like. I began to wonder about where I was going as well. Was I dying and didn’t know it? Was this whole surreal scene just my mind’s way of coping with death?

I realized at that moment that I knew nothing about life. I felt very naïve and gullible.

I had no idea what lied ahead for me. I knew nothing. I couldn’t even guess. I didn’t even know if we were waiting for a train, a car, a bus, a spaceship, a covered wagon, or a giant duck. The exhaustion of the experience I was going through overwhelmed me. I fell asleep waiting to be transported to my new/former life.