The Traveler

He held the passport in his hand. The stamps overlaid each other in a collage of ink and color showcasing his various travels.

"Business or pleasure?" asked the immigration agent with no emotion.

"Business," said the traveler in a natural tone.

The agent scanned through the passport quickly and added his stamp to the already existing montage.

"Welcome. Enjoy your stay."

The traveler flashed a wry smile before passing through the gates. He pulled out a small black book from his back pocket and flipped to a page that was earmarked. He read the name and description and then closed the book and returned it to his pocket.

He walked out of the station and onto the street. He had already visited this place many times before and the streets were familiar to him. He quickly flagged down a taxi and got in.

"Where to?" asked the driver.

"Corner of Virgil and Dante."

"Can only take you as far as Middletown St. Not authorized to go further."

The man in the back seat slipped a large bill to the drive and said, "You're authorized."

"Virgil and Dante," said the driver, taking the money and putting the car in drive.

They passed through the city and numerous apartment buildings. People milled around the streets and in and out of shops. As they drove past Middletown, the scenery quickly changed. Large buildings and clean streets became run down shacks and litter covered roads.

Arriving at their destination, the traveler exited the car and paid the driver who instantly sped off back in the direction of the city.

The traveler walked down the street until he stood before a house that barely stood on its own. The roof had gaping holes that were covered with cut pieces of plastic. The walls bled mildew and crusted paint.

He approached the door and knocked. The echo inside indicated that not much furniture occupied the empty space that was someone's living area. He heard footsteps coming to the door and then the latch turn.

The wooden door swung back and a young man stood there. His hair was disheveled and his clothes ragged. He had no shoes on and his teeth looked like they hadn't seen a toothbrush in ages.

He looked at the traveler, but didn't say anything.

Time passed with both of them staring at each other.

Finally, the young man turned and walked back inside. The traveler followed. There were two chairs in the open space besides a small table and a lamp. The young man indicated to the traveler that he could sit with a wave of his hand. He himself took the other chair.

Dust billowed from the faded fabric, but none of it seemed to settle on the traveler.

"I was wondering when you'd get here," said the young man.

"I come when I am called," replied the traveler.

"I would have preferred your visit a little earlier."

"I'm sure I would have found you in better circumstances."

"Yes. You would have. I only moved out here after I waited in the city for five years."

"Why didn't you wait longer?"

"Longer? And continue to go mad among all those hypocrites?"

"Hypocrites?"

"Yeah, you heard me. All of them talking about how they're going to be saved. I know. I used to be the same. But then I woke up and saw reality."

"And what is that?"

"That there is no salvation. There is no there. There is only here."

"You don't really believe that."

"Maybe you haven't looked around you. I think where I am speaks for my beliefs quite succinctly."

"Perhaps. Or it could be that you want others to think you believe in this."

"Yes. That must be it. I put myself through this hell just so I can convince others that I'm not a believer."

"Be careful what you call hell. You have no idea what that is."

"I don't? Ten years I've been here. Ten years! And nothing! No word, no visit, no indication of what was going to happen. Do you realize what that does to a man? What that does to his mind?"

The young man breathed heavily with his rage. The traveler gauged the man before him and then stood up. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a blank card and handed it over. The young man stood as well and took it. As soon as he did, it turned black.

The traveler turned and walked out of the house.

"Wait!" the young man called after him. "This can't be it!"

The traveler paid no attention to him. He quickly walked down the pathway to the street. The young man ran after him, but as soon as he reached the end of the property, he slammed into an invisible wall and fell backward. His eyes wide with fear he looked up at the traveler who stood on the broken sidewalk.

"It's too late," the traveler said. "Your soul has spoken."

The ground rumbled underneath the young man. He stood up with a wild look and tried to run through the invisible barrier again and again, each time getting more and more panicked. The ground shook so furiously that he could barely stand on his feet. Like a madman, he stumbled back toward the house. He reached the doorway and used it to hold himself up. He looked back at the traveler who stood in serene silence watching the ordeal before him.

The young man screamed when he saw the ground split open before him. Fire erupted out of the earth and soon a chasm was left before him. It continued to open until the house also began to creak and groan under its own weight. He knew now there was nothing to do. The house split and crumbled underneath him. The chasm opened fully and engulfed the entire house and the man inside.

Within a few minutes, the earth had filled itself in so that all that was left was barren dirt.

The traveler pulled out his black book and turned to the page. He checked off a small box next to the young man's name and then placed it back in his pocket.

"Welcome to hell," he said, and then walked back down the street toward the city.