BURN IN HADES by Michael L. Martin Jr. Page A

answer, but perhaps it was because the gentle birds were bred in the underworld, they never died a first death, which meant they could never die second deaths—the only way he knew for a soul to become a Nothing.
    Most of his time spent with the Raven sailed by quietly. She wasn’t much of a talker, but she wasn’t so bad. All the shocking stories surrounding her had yet to reveal themselves to Cross. She was clever and beautiful—not primitive and grotesque as the tales depicted her. One morning she even brought back fresh barbot eggs she had stolen from a nest. They scrambled them for breakfast.
    He was getting used to having her around. He liked the way she smelled and she was rather pretty, even in those manly clothes. She was delicate underneath. He liked the way her silky black hair swayed beyond her shoulders when she wasn’t wearing that awful top hat. He wanted to run his fingers through it.
    Then, one day while he ate lunch, the Raven snuck up on him and began tying him up.
    He dropped his barbot leg. “What’re you doing?”
    “Binding you,” she said, stringing his hands together by the wrists.
    “Why?”
    “We’re going for a ride.” She tied his legs.
    “Where are we going?” he asked.
    “Duat.”
    “That’s at least a week’s ride from here, including sleep time.”
    “Mmhmm.”
    “That’s a long way to go and be tied up.”
    “If our little act is going to work you need be bound before we ride into town.”
    “I don’t think anyone will notice if you wait till we get a little closer.”
    “You just keep your neck attached to your shoulders. I’ll do the thinking.”
    She lifted him up and placed him on the back of Gimlet face down. She mounted his cornurus and they made the treacherous journey from the Viņsaule canyons to the desert of Duat.

    With endless swivels of Gimlet’s tail, the landscape gradually changed from jagged mountain ranges to waves of sand. From what he could see from his downward angle, the only indication that they had made it to the city of Amenthes were the sandals fitted onto paws. All the people of Amenthes wore funny garments from a time long before his.
    He raised his head to take in the most beautiful city he had ever seen in the underworld. Amenthes shined and sparkled despite the sand, but even the sands shimmered in a golden gleam. The folk there sure knew how to take care of their realm.
    Until Cross became a wanted soul, traveling throughout the underworld had never appealed to him. That’s why he had never seen many of the wonders—if you could call them that—each realm offered.
    The giant pointy structures and temples that made up the realm of Duat were on full display in shiny black, gleaming red and shimmering white. The magnificent triangular buildings rose to different heights, and the smooth stone that each were made of glistened in the fiery glow of the red sky.
    He raised his head to see the peaks of each. The drawings in his old boss’s study had always featured an eye at the peak of the structure, but there were no giant eyes on any of the building peaks of Amenthes.
    “Are these really pyramids?” he asked the Raven.
    “Sure,” said the Raven. “And they have all kinds of objects locked in them.”
    Nine pyramids equaled a lot of objects. It could be millions. They closed in on a temple and rode up the causeway. Cross met the eyes of a group of feline-faced women standing aside. He winked at one. She scoffed at him.
    A painted gate surrounded the temple; it stretched across the realm from one end to the other and was decorated with colorful drawings of people and animals. The entrance led into a large open room without a roof. The walls of that room were decorated in the same colorful paintings as the front gate.
    “Raven, you ever wonder why these souls would give up their precious valuables to chop off my head? I mean, they only want memories. What good are those? Mine ain’t nothing but—they’re just