Chapter 14   The Road to Hell…Who Knew…

The characters of the Southern Vampire Mysteries belong to Miss Charlaine Harris. No infringement on my part is intended. The characters on True Blood belong to Mr. Alan Ball. No infringement on my part is intended.

I have no BETA, editor, or other such charming person. All mistakes are my own.


This story is rated M.


“I am William T. Compton and what the hell!” he sputtered as his body exploded and he gulped down sludge and slime of the most foul. What? He was in a river? A cesspool? When he surfaced, he climbed out and onto the dead grass. Gasping and coughing he was swallowing the muck that had poured into him. “Oh fuck no,” he whined when he his eyes focused on the dead car lot that was looking back at him and smiling and licking its lips. “I met the true death! Where the fuck am I?”

Listening, he could hear traffic. He broke out in a run, heading for the sounds of something he was familiar.

Everything was dead. There were just the skeletons of what he though must have once been trees. And other skeletons of other things that looked hateful and cursed. But still, he kept going toward the sounds of the street. He knew those sounds, he kept telling himself as he trudged up the side of a hill.

“Yes, traffic,” he nodded to himself at the cars and trucks that were speeding along on the old macadam multi-lane hardtop. There were overpasses and express lanes everywhere! Even a tollbooth! Then he noticed all the signs and arrows pointing to which road to take. Hell, The Paved Road to Hell, Hell or High-Water, Hell Hath No Fury, Hell No, Hell Yes, Burn in Hell, Hot as Hell, The Darkest Places in Hell, Hell Fucked, Hell’s Despair, Born to Raise Hell. There were signs that cluttered all the overpasses and bridges. Endless signs to go with the endless traffic and dirt and noise. Apparently there was nowhere in Hell you could not be bound for. And just who in the hell were driving these roads?

“I am William T. Compton,” he said standing by the side of the busy highway, dust being kicked up by all the traffic and going down his throat. “And I am on my way to Heaven. I sure hope someone there can explain this to me why I am waylaid here and pull these nails out of my jaw. And who do I complain to about my treatment at the hands of Eric and all his friends? I am tellin’ on those bastards. I was a hero of the great war! I deserve some respect. I was denied my place at the right hand of God when I was made vampire. I hope my maker is burin’ in Hell for those awful ways she taught me to enjoy.”

An old trash truck thundered past and back blew its exhaust right down his throat. Then with a screeching of its tires, the mega-ton trash truck pulled off the road, slammed into reverse and started backing up at just as equally outrageous amount of speed.

Someone he thought he should recognize jumped down from the passenger side and walked back. “Fresh dead,” Trash Dude yelled toward the cab as the yawling mouth of the dumpster opened and the stench that came hurdling out made itself at home in Bill’s throat.

“Fresh dead,” the man looked at Bill and laughed. “Son, you gotta close your mouth or the not so fresh dead is gonna want to take up residency in your body. Now hop on in.”

“Get in there? No,” Bill was outraged. “I shall not. This is a mistake!

“Now son,” Trash Dude said, “we gotta haul ass.   If the Mistress of Evil knew we were lollygagging…”

“Hey, no fucking lollygagging,” was yelled back.   The voice sounded female? Did the Mistress of Evil drive a trash truck?

“Throw his fucking ass in and let’s go,” was yelled from the cab.

“There you have it,” Trash Dude smiled. “We gotta go. She already owes me a beer. And she is pissed.”

“Oh no,” Bill began backing away. “This is a mistake. A very big mistake. I did not expect a stretch limo to pick me up and take me to Heaven. As nice as that would have been. I did think maybe I would hear the Hallelujah chorus and see angels welcoming me into Heaven. Now, I know paperwork can get lost and misplaced and sometimes a villain will just destroy something that he does not want his queen to see. Not that I would ever do that,” he added in his most sincere voice.

“So I am asking to speak to the one in charge and I want my records pulled and checked.

“Gabe, you hear all that?” Trash Dude called forward.

“Yes, I did,” they heard the screech of the cab door as it opened and then the slam that shook the entire truck as it closed and a long string of obscenities as footsteps approached. “You know,” Bill could hear her hiss, “there is a reason they call me the Mistress of Evil. You stupid fuckers piss me off and you will find out how  far I can drop kick your asses into the farthest reaches of Cocksucking Hell.  That is a physical destination.”

“Mistress of Evil, indeed,” Bill said under his breath. “What a nasty mouth on her.”

“Compton, William T.,” she began in a drill sergeant voice as she was still walking toward him. In the bright orange glow jumpsuit, dirty, he might add, she looked like a convict, herself. Well, he was not going to take any of her attitude. No sir! She was here right along with him, wherever this was! He knew his rights. He wanted to talk to God!

“Your are a Fresh Dead,” she eyed him. “Golfing accident. Met the fresh dead death at the hands of Pamela Swynford De Beaufort, child of Eric The Fucking Viking Northman.”

Bill thought maybe he heard a bit of pride in her voice.   How would she know Eric? Well, evil knows evil he pacified himself.

“Let me see, during the great war,” she rolled her eyes, “you sold secrets to the North. You raped Sookie’s great, great, grandmother while her husband was recovering from his wounds upstairs.   You were turned vampire and with your maker, Lorena Krasiki you stalked, raped and killed 36 couples and 25 families before she placed you with Sophie-Anne where you lived your vampire life with your head up Sophie-Ann’s ass. Your last piece of business was to procure Sookie Stackhouse Northman for Sophie-Anne while you fantasized about having her for a slave so she could,” and her voice sounded just like his, “wash my momma’s floors and while she was down there…” she arched both eyebrows at him. “Into rape, are you? Nothing to say about that? Well, you have until the Final Day to think up an answer for that. Not that God expects one. Believe me, in the realm of evil crying about not being guilty and boo-hoo it is not my fault; He has seen, heard, and rolled His eyes through it all.”

Bill took a step back. Looked like maybe she had fangs!

“Have I left anything out, oh self-righteous one?” Her green eyes pierced him. “What, no snippy come back? Yes, that is what I thought.

Pete,” she turned her attention on the male who looked just as rough as she did. “We are now behind. Let’s toss his ass in. We have got to make up time. This cocksucker is gonna cost me another round of beers if we don’t haul ass.”

“Wait, no…” Bill yelled as they picked him up and tossed him into the back with some not so fresh deads.

There was the grinding gears as the compactor came down and then the truck started and with a lurch that knocked him flat on his face, the truck was once more traveling down the road.

“Looks like you have gotten yourself into some kind of fix, there friend,” something that once might have been human sorta slimmed its way over to where Bill was picking himself up and out of…well…

“Hey fucker, get off me,” was yelled up at him.   “Just what the fuck! What do you think this is, a free ride? You want to fuck me, it is gonna cost.   You want a more comfortable ride, it is gonna cost, you want to lick me up off the bottom of this shit fest, it is gonna cost.”

“I am William T. Compton,” he said righting himself. “And this, this surly is not Heaven.”

“No fucking kidding,” the Slime person was staring at him. “This is not even purgatory if you believe in that place.”

“Then…where am I?” he asked.

“We just call this Hell-On-Wheels,” the wheedling voice of Slime answered him.

“Now, if you want anymore information, you just let me slide on down that wide open mouth of yours and give me just a taste of what being fresh is like.”

“I will not,” Bill said, standing tall. “Now whom do I speak to about this mistake?”

“Gonna cost you,” the pile of stench at his feet replied. “You just come on down here and give me a pleasure ride and you can forget old Slime ball. I can show you a real good time and talk to you at the same time.”

“Oh-h-h,” Bill stammered for a bit. “Well, you see, ‘Ole Nub and I have been parted of our ways. I, ah, I no longer am capable of pleasin’ anyone in that capacity.”

“Oh, ouch,” the Goop on the floor laughed out loud. “All of eternity without your dick. You sure pissed someone top side off. And it is gonna be hard,” she snickered, “well not for you…” she laughed heartily, “for you to earn your way out of or into anyone’s good graces,” she cracked up laughing, “yes, like there is anythin’ good going on here,” she chuckled. “Good thing I can amuse myself because dickless here, has nothing going on. I have no information for you,” the breath from the floor smelled like the death battlefields that had ripened for days out in the hot summer sun. “Talk to Slime ball.”

There were great big teeth smiling at him. Reminded him of Were teeth. “I’ll answer your questions,” the grin was most sincere. “But man, I need a taste of fresh.”

“What?” Bill shuddered as he watched it take another step closer. “What do I have to do?”

“Just give me permission to slide on through. No worries, I pop out the other end. Guaranteed to clean you out. You’ll feel just like you had a high colonic. Leave you feeling all fresh as a daisy.”

“No,” he shook his head. “This is wrong. This is a horrible mistake,” Bill kept repeating. “This is not my destiny.”

“I have time,” Slime smiled at him. “Get comfy, the Mistress of Evil is going to make up time. It’s a thrill ride!”

The ride got bumpier and smellier and he thought maybe it was beginning to heat up. Yes, definitely warmer. Hot, even, maybe.

The last jolt jostled his insides. He could taste the…the…whatever it was he had swallowed in all that muck. Being cleaned out might not be such a bad idea. “If, if, I agreed to this? How long do you stay? In a human time frame reference,” Bill asked. “I will not be tricked or made a fool, of.”

“Well how very clever of you,” Slime chuckled. “Fresh dead. You do come with certain knowledge still intact. Five minutes human, earth, day light savings time, with all the time zones thrown in. You know, just Earth time.”

“Oh,” Bill snickered. “You think I was born yesterday. I know there are 24 time zones worldwide. I had to track that for my queen. Let me see, 5 times 4 is twenty. Place the 0 and carry the two. 5 times 2 is ten. Plus the carried 2 and the answer is 120. So, you could stay 120 minutes. Want to try that again?” he said smugly.

“No flies on you,” Slime laughed.   “Or at least not yet. Your nailed open mouth is going to cause you some problems if you stay in here much longer. Next couple of stops are the not so fresh deads and they come with flies, maggots, the works.”

“You mean I can get out?” Bill’s voice held relief. “I knew this was a mistake. How?” he asked.

“Give me five minutes of your time,” Slime smiled at him. “Just five. No tricks. And what I know I will tell you.”

“Do you know were shit at all?” Bill asked, remembering his days in Sophie-Anne’s residence and the shiftiness of vampires.

“Yes, he actually does,” Goop on the floor answered. “He has been riding this route for a long time.”

As Slime approached, the smell became more horrific and the gagging started. Bill’s eyes rolled up into the back of his head once the journey began in his throat and traveled through his body. When it was time to exit, he could feel Slime’s hesitation. With a grunt, and what sphincter muscles he had left, he pushed Slime out.

“Lovely,” he heard the voice say as Slime began to reconstitute, himself. There was a human form to him now. He was not a very big man, but he was a man and not some horrible monster.

“Just knock on the front of the truck,” he motioned with his head while he sucked on his fingernails, to remove things that might have caught and lingered.

“That’s all?” Bill answered.

“That’s it. You can ask the evil bitch that is driving if she would pass what ever you are asking on to God. Sometimes, if she needs a good laugh, she’ll make your case for you. They just might send you back as a ghost.”

“Really,” Bill grinned. And then became serious. “Why would they do this?”

“Because judgment day is coming,” Slime answered. “And we all answer. Until then,” he shrugged. “I ride in the back of the trash truck because I do not wish to abide before the throne of Hell before I have, too.”

“Well then, if being a ghost is so grand, why don’t you ask to do that?”

“Because it is better to reign in Hell than to serve in Heaven,” came the reply.

“Oh, Paradise Lost,” Bill said.

“No, personal experience,” came his reply.

Bill walked to the front of the truck and pounded on the wall. Sure enough, brakes were applied and the cursing from the female, began.

They all head the door open and the light came in, blinding all of them that lived in the darkness for a few moments until their eyes once more adjusted.

Shaking her head and rolling her eyes, she regarded him. “You have been listening to Judas. Tell me,” she gave a come on motion with her hand. “You are costing me time. I already am buying a round, tonight.”

“I want to go back to Earth as a haunt, a spirit, a ghost,” he said. “Is this possible?”

Snickering, she eyed Judas in the back who had his head respectfully bowed. “Gabriel, I only offered advice.”

“One born every minute, hey Judas,” she laughed. “Wait one.”

Bill was watching her. There were things too fast for him track going on with her eyes.

“Yes, possible,” she motioned him forward then stood back as he hopped out. “But with conditions. First,” she took her finger and wrote something on his forehead. “Second, you can tell only the truth. Third, well that is defined under any and all other additional duties. I wrote that book. Good luck with that,” she chuckled as picked him up and she dropped kicked him. “Who says the old man does not have a sense of humor,” she high-fived Pete. “Come on, let’s go. We are way the hell behind.   Not so fresh deads,” she grinned into the back of the truck, “coming right up. They are just going to love you, Judas,” she batted her eyes at him, “and that lovely body you are manifesting,” as the door slammed shut.

“It is better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven,” he began chanting, hoping that the newbies would all slip on Goop, land on the floor and that he could eat them before they had a chance to eat him.

The sweet smell of home! This was wonderful! He was up into the air and then he was falling head first into his own home! Crack and thunk and pain! But still, his home! His place of belonging! His place of…of…what was that slime all over the walls? What was that stench? What…what…he felt his bowls turn over, what was that thing staring down at him from the top of his stairs? Carefully and slowly he walked to the front door, opened it and walked out into the day. Screaming, he was burning from the sunlight! “Were shit!” he screeched. Safe back inside, he was huddled in one corner as the thing at the top of the steps chuckled and licked its lips. “I like’m toasted,” it muttered happily.

When the sun went down, he felt better. “The vampire rules must still hold,” Bill said softly to himself as he watched the thing watching him. Slowly and carefully he edged toward the door. Opening it, he stepped out into the night. “Better,” he sighed.

With a much lighter outlook, he began walking toward the Old Stackhouse Farmhouse. “Well, I can go callin’ now,” he smiled. “I will be their worst nightmare.”

He could hear them. Pamela and friends were out playin’ golf. He would show them!

Walking up to the steps of the house he called out, “Sookie, I have returned to haunt you and yours for the rest of my days,” he laughed in glee.

The vamps that were outside were immediately there. “Why cocksucker Bill,” there was amazement in Pam’s voice, “what are you doing back from the true death? And why do you have Throw Salt On Me written on your forehead?”

There were many words that raced through his brain, but only the truth came out. “I am here to be of service to the Northman family.” Well now, wait one, how was this fair?

Sookie and Eric were now out on the porch as Pam was vamp speed into the kitchen.

“We do not want your help,” Eric replied.

“I know,” he nodded. “But I still must offer. Wash you floors, cut your grass, paint. Offer myself to carry Pamela’s handbag. Or be her handbag if she wishes to store her belongings down my throat.”

Eric kept shaking his head no.

Pam reappeared and from the steps threw a handful of salt on Bill.

The screaming started as he sizzled and sparked.

“Oh,” Pam grinned, “like silver. Nice. My maker, if you have nothin’ for Bill to do, we could use him as a golf tee.”

“Oh,” Eric nodded. “Be my guest.”

“Barkeep, another round for my friends,” Gabriel called out. Godric smiled as she settled back into her chair. “So you see,” she grinned, motioning to Peter with her beer mug, “it really is not all about Pearly Gates and streets paved with precious jewels.”

“Yes, really,” Peter laughed. “I wish I was working the Pearly Gates. Not complaining, you know that right Gabe,” the laughter shook his body.

“Seriously, working the trash route on the road to Hell with her is the most fun you can have. Being guardian is always good, fulfilling to the soul work. But if you just want to have fun, I strongly suggest the trash route. You work it with her once,” he arched an eyebrow at Act’yed, “and you’ll be hooked. “

Dear Readers,

I believe this has set everyone in motion. Hey, it is good to have Compton back to whack around.

This will be my last posting on this story for about a week. So by the 8th of June I should be back around this way.

I need some dedicated time to write my dragon battle and perhaps finish up my one-hundred word count story.

Have a most wonderful weekend!

As always, thanks for reading!