Tres Navarre vs. the Chupacabra Chapter 5: Tres Goes to Hades

After a dinner of Bill Miller barbecue washed down with Shiner Bock beer, Tres settled in for a nap.   When he awoke, the apartment was dark.    The clock read 11:11.    He hopped in the truck and made his way downtown hoping that he would not be too late.   As he drove east on Houston Street, he found a parking lot within blocks of the theater.   Fingering the coin in his pants pocket, he walked down the street, unsure of what would await him.    The street was completely empty and still, which was unusual even for 11:55.    The buildings were all dark except for the marquee of the Majestic Theater which advertised the Lion King.

Standing directly across from the Majestic, he opened his phone to get an accurate time.   His phone flashed 11:59 and then went dark.   Across the street, he noticed an awning that hadn’t been there before.   It said “The River Styx.”    The door was barred by a burly man in a pinstriped suit and a long beard worthy of ZZ Top.  Tres walked casually across the street.  Up close, the bouncer looked even bigger and wilder.   In a raspy voice, the figure asked, “Have you the fare?”

Tres pulled out the coin and the bouncer reached for it.   As he was about to let go, he remembered Felix’s words and pulled back.   “Not until we reach the other side,” he said.   “Very well” said the man-beast.  He opened the door and they entered a narrow antechamber.   It was barely large enough to hold Tres and the giant apparition.   The man pressed a button and a door opened in the wall.   They entered an elevator which began to descend.   The numbers increased as they went down, eventually stopping at thirteen.   Tres said, “Hey, I thought it was bad luck to have a thirteenth floor.”   Tres blinked and noticed that the pinstriped suit had given way to a rough-hewn cloak and the beard had grown even wilder in appearance.   With his left hand, the ferryman pointed to a boat that lay tied up on the banks of a subterranean river.   Torchlight lit the near bank.  The far bank was lost in darkness.   It was a bit like the tunnel of love in a haunted house.

As Tres climbed into the boat, it began to rock precariously, a movement which became more pronounced as the ferryman climbed on board.  Tres fell to his knees with his hands gripping the side of the boat for dear life.  As he looked over the edge, he saw a lost soul float by.  He decided it would be better to sit in the bottom of the boat and look straight ahead.  Charon stuck his pole in the water and pushed off.   After what seemed like an eternity, he saw light on the other side.   As the boat crunched against the far bank, the ferryman said, “Pay or join the lost souls.”   Tres put one foot on the land and handed him the coin.   The ferryman grunted with approval and began the return trip.  

Tres made his way toward the torchlight.  He saw a circular entranceway but before he could draw near, a three-headed beast blocked his path.  “Good doggy,” he said shakily.   The beast’s six eyes blazed with flame.   He pulled three strips of beef jerky from his pocket and tossed them in the general direction of Cerberus.   The infernal hound pounced upon the beef jerky and Tres saw his opening.    He reached for the exposed stomach of the massive canine and began to skritch.   “Nice doggy.  Who’s a good boy?” he said.   To his relief, Cerberus did not bit his head off.   Instead, he rolled over and began to make what could only be described as the contented sighs of a demon beast, both comforting and terrifying at the same time.

After a suitable interval, Tres patted Cerberus on his middle head and said “Got to go, pooch.”   Cerberus began to run around in circles.   Tres gave him one last head rub and moved toward to a door which said “Abandon hope, all ye who enter here.”    He pulled the massive door and it swung open with a monumental creaking as if the whole earth were coming apart.

Inside the door was a desk manned by a bored-looking security officer who happened to be a demon with horns protruding from his cap.    “Welcome to the underworld,” he said.   “Do you have an appointment?”

“I’m here to see Ralph Arguello,” Tres replied.   

“Is he expecting you?”

“Who knows,” he said.   “It’s been a really weird week.   At this point I don’t know what to believe.”

“This is highly irregular,” said the demon rent-a-cop.  “Do you know how long it’s been since we’ve had a voluntary guest here?”   The gatekeeper picked up a red telephone and punched in a number.   Apparently it rang for a really long time since the security demon stared blankly at the ceiling for an extended period of time.   Finally he said, “Follow me.”

They entered a red car and drove onto a highway that looked like Interstate 35 during rush hour.   Along the way, the demon explained that his name was Herman and that he was working the front gate as a second job so that he could save up for a vacation with his wife to the pool of Mnemosyne. After three hours, they arrived at their destination which was only a few blocks away.  Tres thought about asking how this made sense, but realized that he was in Hades.

He bid good bye to Herman and entered a shady-looking cantina.    As his eyes adjusted to the inner dimness, he saw an oversize figure with a braided ponytail wearing a white linen guayabera shirt facing the bar.   He was about to call out when the figure turned around and said, "Tres, mi amigo, welcome to Hell.  Have a beer."  Tres found himself face to face with his deceased friend, Ralph Arguello.