Rapacia: The Second Circle of Heck Read Online Free

now a third wheel, and they were all far too old for tricycles.
    Strangely, though, Milton didn’t feel all that bad about how awkward things had gotten between him and his friends. Since his “death,” what had once seemed so interesting to him now joined the ranks of Hot Wheels and Lincoln Logs in the landfill of his heart.
    Even Milton wasn’t completely sure if what had happened had
really
happened. Had he actually died and gone down to Heck—where the souls of the darned toil for all eternity or until they turn eighteen, whichever comes first—or had it all been nothing but a near-death delusion?
    His faithful ferret, Lucky, had thrown up bits of what Milton believed to be the contract for hiseverlasting soul. But considering the things that his voracious pet ate on a daily basis, he couldn’t be 100 percent sure. For all Milton knew, his “contract” could have merely been the result of a day’s newspaper nibbling.
    So that left Damian: Milton’s brutish earthly nemesis turned slick, savvy and exponentially more dangerous after having descended to the Netherworld. Although in a coma, he was still—at least legally—
alive!
Damian was Milton’s only connection between this world and the next. And maybe, if Heck was real, there was some way Milton could use Damian to make contact with Marlo.
    “Where is he?” Milton asked. Hans and Humberto stared mutely at Milton, as they had been doing for the past minute while Milton had been engaged in a private wrestling match with his own thoughts.
    “Who?” Humberto asked with fearful caution, as if talking to an armed gunman or a cheerleader.
    “Damian!”
Milton shot back.
    “Why is it so important for you to see him?” Hans asked.
    Returning to the land of the living moments after his own death, Milton had somehow arrived before Damian’s departure. It was as if he had stepped off a metaphysical merry-go-round at the very point he had boarded. The only explanation that made any sense toMilton was that—having been sentenced to Limbo where time didn’t pass—he had escaped back to the Stage, or Earth,
whatever
, as if nothing had ever happened.
    “I just need some …
closure,”
Milton lied. “Because”—he stared up at the blue Kansas state flag fluttering halfway up the pole—“because of Marlo.”
    Hans sighed. He had harbored a secret crush on Marlo since fourth grade. Marlo, like most every girl in his life, had made fun of Hans because of his woolly orange hair. But Marlo had always taken the time to come up with unique ways of insulting him, like when she pretended she could talk to God through his flaming bush of red curls. It was those thoughtful little touches that he had found so endearing.
    “He’s at Generica General,” Hans replied sadly.
    Milton turned to leave.
    “But they won’t let you in,” Hans continued. “Not unless you’re part of his awful, messed-up family, that is.”
    Milton froze. Although he had spent much of his life ducking down hallways and hiding behind drinking fountains to avoid the sadistic scrutiny of Damian, Milton had to see him now more than anything.
    “Do you guys want to come and help me?” Milton asked, turning back toward his once-friends. “You know … to pay your
lack of
respects?” Even thoughMilton felt he was on a solitary mission, he could use some company.
    Hans and Humberto glanced at each other uneasily for guidance.
    “Um, we’ve got a …
social obligation,”
Hans said with a stunning lack of conviction.
    Milton glared at the less-than-dynamic duo.
    “Fine,” he sighed bitterly. “Then consider this my official resignation from the Model Chessetry Club.”
    He walked away.
    “Social obligation my once-dead butt,” Milton, the outcast of the outcasts, grumbled with disgust as he crossed Rubicon Street toward the hospital, on a mission he didn’t fully understand. Whether Milton had truly been reborn or had simply lost his marbles while hovering at death’s door, one thing