"Them´s the Brakes" by Katherine J. Grantham

“You want me to do what?” said the minor demon to the Lord of Hell.

His Dark Majesty sighed impatiently and rustled wings that would have been magnificent had he not started molting shortly after The Fall.

“I’m busy and can’t take care of it myself, Yuhauliel,” Lucifer said, in a manner that suggested if he had a rope, someone other than himself would be at the end of it. “They must be punished, and I’m swamped.” Lucifer waved a manicured hand at the scene about them. “Just look at this place!”

Hell was just the pits. The rest was still under construction. Flaming black and yellow barricades blocked off unfinished portions of the Nether Realm. Swearing, sweating imps in hard hats scurried about laying gas pipeline, occasionally getting flattened by Zdamnboni’s driven by cackling cacodemons playing chicken with each other, the imps, and large holes. The imps usually lost and the holes usually won. The racket nearly, but not quite, drowned out the omnipresent music and lyrics of Hell’s most popular song, “It’s a Small Sin After All.” It was pandemonium.

The Fallen One gritted his teeth and took a deep breath through flared nostrils.

“Get back to work NOW!” The tall blonde ex-angel bellowed at the cacodemons, his eyes blazing redly through the smoggy mirk. “Get that equipment back down to the lowest level, where it belongs. Anyone I catch goofing off again goes on snake detail for the next thousand years!”

The area cleared quickly, cacodemons and Zdamnbonis grumbling off to that level of Hell where the air conditioning was always set way too low. The pipeline-laying imps renewed their work with increased vigor. The Lord of Hell exhaled through clenched teeth.

“There. See what I mean? If I’m not on their damned cases every second, all Hell breaks loose.” A scowl twisted Lucifer’s handsome features. “As much as I would love to do this job myself, I want you”—the Fallen One pointed a long, perfect finger at his pale fallen companion—”to go up there”—the finger jabbed in the direction that would be called skyward were there a sky and not murky grayness with the suggestion of a rock ceiling—”and make their sorry day just that much more miserable.”

The slender fire-haired former angel bowed his acquiesence before his Dark Lord.

“Any suggestions, oh Master of Corruption, on how you would like this to be accomplished?”

Lucifer fingered his finely shaped chin consideringly, narrowing lambent scarlet eyes in speculation.

“Ye-e-e-e-ssss. Slowly. Let them think you’re there to help them. Then let the true awfulness of their situation sink in. Let the knowledge of exactly how forsaken they are hit them. Then drive it home.” He punctuated his command by punching out an imp who had strayed too close.

A not at all angelic smile slowly erupted on Yuhauliel’s face.

“I have an idea...” The minor demon whispered in his Master’s delicately pointed ear.

Lucifer’s smile, as he listened to his minion’s idea, required a rewrite of the definition of “alarming.”

“What is it?”

The Angel of the Eastern Gate gave a bored shrug and leaned on his flaming sword. “How should I know? I’m not the clever one. I didn’t eat from the Tree of Knowledge.”

Adam looked askance at the odd...contraption. A large white ox wore a ...thing... around its neck that connected to two long sticks that connected to another...wooden thingie...that sat on circular disks of wood. A canopy of orange fabric topped off the unlikely looking affair.

The ox returned the tall, tanned First Man’s scrutiny with warm brown eyes. “Perhaps I can elucidate,” it said in a soothing tone of voice. “What you see will become known in a language called Persian as a karwan, which in future tongues shall be called caravan, or van for short. It is used for transporting things that must be moved from one place to another.”

Adam (who understood the speech of all animals while still in the Garden) brightened considerably. “Really? That’s great! I was wondering how Eve was going to carry all her clothing. It’s astonishing what she’s come up with since she got that idea. And now I don’t have to wonder which of my classic rocks I can keep and which I have to leave behind. This can carry all of them!” He sighed in relief. “And here I thought everyone was mad at us.”

The ox grinned, an expression that looked somehow unsettling on bovine features. “You have not been forgotten,” it said. “I am here to see that you receive the help you deserve.”

Clearing his throat, the Angel standing sentinel at the Gate gestured heavenward with a pristine white pinion. “You’d better get a move on, Adam. HE wants both of you to clear out of here by sundown.”

The sun was sliding toward the Western Gate in a blaze of angry crimson when Adam and Eve loaded the last of their belongings.

“This is the last one,” grunted Adam as he shoved a particularly colorful and somewhat large chunk of granite into the back of the cart.

The harnessed ox rolled an eye at the load to which it was hitched as a vaguely sour look crossed its features. Forcing warmth into both voice and expression, the pale bovine said, “Good. Now if you will both seat yourselves on the bench in front, we can be off.”

“Just a moment,” Adam replied. The First Man turned toward the Eastern Gate and whistled. Eve smiled and called out in a low musical voice.

Out of the Gate strolled the two True Friends of mankind, the only two animals who agreed to forsake Eden out of their love for Adam and Eve, earning a spot in the hearts and homes of mankind for all time. The shaggy grey Dog and sleek marmalade Cat paused for a last smile and caress from the Angel at the Gate before joining their Master and Mistress.

Adam and Eve climbed aboard the cart and sat on the bench the ox had indicated. Adam patted a spot on the bench beside him and called, “Here, boy!”

The Dog, divining the apparent purpose of the vehicle, jumped aboard and grinned happily. “Oh, boy! We get to go for a ride!”

Eve smiled and held out her arms to the Cat. The orange feline sauntered around the cart examining it critically, stopping before the ox. It sniffed suspiciously, bushed out its tail, and disguised a hiss as a sneeze as it determined the true purpose of the device and its Beast of burden. The ox eyed the Cat malevolently and stamped a large hoof rather too close for comfort.

“I’ll walk, if you don’t mind, and meet you when you stop,” called the Cat as it faded discreetly into the bushes.

Eve raised her eyebrows and shrugged quizzically at Adam. “Well, I guess we’re off, then,” he said in reply. “How do we get start—” His question cut off as the cart lurched violently into motion, tossing the occupants about like dice in a cup.

The pallid bovine bellowed with unholy glee as it tore up the ground, careening to and fro about the plain outside the Eastern Gate, strewing contents of the cart hither and yon. Adam and Eve clung to each other in terror as the Dog cowered at their feet.

“How do I steer this thing?” Adam called desperately to the Angel at the Gate. The Angel, watching the proceedings with a mild look of comingled surprise and distaste, shook his head and sighed deeply. “Well then how do I stop it?” shrieked the First Driver.

“Them’s the breaks,” said the Angel, slamming shut the Gate to Eden.

“Well done! Well done, indeed!” Lucifer beamed at Yuhauliel, who basked in the heat of the Lord of Hell’s approval. “I couldn’t have done better myself. It was sheer genius, getting them to entrust their most precious belongings to you, then melting that trust like mist in the noonday sun.”

“I only acted on your suggestions,” replied the sycophantic flame-haired angel, bowing deeply.

“Of course you did. That’s why it turned out so marvelously vile. Ooh, but it gives me wonderfully good bad ideas...” The Lord of Hell grinned broadly, eyes narrowed in rapt contemplation of a maleficent vision of the future. “I’m promoting you, Yuhauliel. I’m putting you in charge of a whole legion of demons devoted to this concept. I want to see this form of misery implemented worldwide. And more than that, I want humanity to pay us for the privilege of being made miserable...”

As it was said, so was it done. Napoleon had unholy “help” among his supply wagons on that muddy road to Moscow in the winter of 1812. Odysseus would have been home to Penelope’s waiting arms much sooner had he not unwittingly booked passage with Yuhauliel’s maritime division (run by the capable demoness Marie Celeste). And have you ever wondered at the real reason the Israelites took forty years to move from Egypt to the Promised Land?

They’re out there, under many names and guises, offering you their help. For a price.