Cross Roads by William P. Young Read Free Book Online Page B

boundaries—“where the hell am I?”
    Jack hoisted himself to a stand and took a position not even a foot away from Tony’s face. He paused, his headslightly cocked as if listening to another conversation before he spoke, carefully emphasizing his next words.
    “There is indeed a sense that the word hell might be an appropriate word for here, but then, so would the word home.”
    Tony took a step back, trying to process what Jack had said.
    “Are you telling me that this is hell, that I’m in hell?”
    “Not exactly, at least not in the sense that you imagine it. I am certain Dante is not lurking anywhere nearby.”
    “Dante?”
    “Dante, with his inferno and pitchforks and all. Poor boy is still apologizing.”
    “You said, not exactly? What do you mean, not exactly?”
    “Tony, what exactly do you think hell is?” Jack’s question was calm and measured.
    It was now Tony’s turn to pause. This conversation was not going in any direction he’d anticipated, but he quickly made a mental decision to humor this curious man. After all, he might have information that would prove useful or at least helpful.
    “Uh, I don’t know… exactly.” No one had ever asked him so directly. The question of hell had always been an assumption. As a result, Tony’s response came out more a question than a statement. “A place of eternal torment with fire and gnashing of teeth and stuff?”
    Jack stood listening as if waiting for more.
    “Uh, a place where God punishes people he is angry with because they are sinners,” continued Tony. “Uh, where bad people are separated from God and good people go to heaven?”
    “And you believe that?” asked Jack, again cocking his head to one side.
    “No,” responded Tony adamantly. “I think that when you die you die. You become worm-meal, dust to dust, no rhyme, no reason, just dead.”
    Jack grinned. “Ah, spoken with the certainty of a man who has never died. If I may, might I ask you another question?”
    Tony barely nodded, but it was enough and Jack continued, “Does your believing this, that dead is simply dead and that is ‘all she wrote’; does your believing it make it true?”
    “Sure! It’s real to me,” retorted Tony.
    “I didn’t ask if it was real to you. Obviously it is real to you, but what I asked was if it was true.”
    Tony looked down, thinking. “I don’t get it. What’s the difference? If it’s real, isn’t it true?”
    “Oh, not at all Tony! And to make matters even more convoluted, something might be real but not actually exist at all, while truth remains independent from what is real or perceived to be real.”
    Tony raised his palms and shrugged, shaking his head. “Sorry, this is way beyond me. I don’t understand—”
    “Oh, but you do,” interrupted Jack, “much more than you realize, no pun intended; so let me give you examples that will clarify.”
    “Do I have a choice?” Tony acquiesced, still at a loss but more interested than aggravated. Somewhere in this man’s words was hidden a compliment, and while he couldn’t grasp it, he could sense it.
    Jack smiled. “Choice? Hmm, good question, but for another time. To my point, there are those who ‘really’ believe there was no Holocaust, that no one has actually walked on the moon, that the earth is flat, that there are monsters living under the bed. Real to them, but not true. Closer to home, your Loree believed…”
    “What does my wife have to do with any of this?” reacted Tony, more than a little defensively. “I suppose you know her, too, and just so you understand, in case she’s lurking around here, too, somewhere, I have no interest in talking to her.”
    Jack held up his hands in surrender. “Tony, calm down, this is just an illustration, not a reprimand. May I continue?”
    Tony folded his arms and nodded. “Yeah, sorry; as you can see, not a favorite topic of conversation.”
    “Yes, I do understand,” resumed Jack. “That is also for another time.