Limbo 56 by Mike Morris (ereader iphone txt) 📖

have been content working in the foundry,” he looked around, “in a better Limbo than this.” He looked at them. “Jimmy told me that this is a good deal.”

“You were recruited by Jimmy Wheeler?” the big man asked; “Jimmy Wheeler the ex foundry man?” Arthur nodded. “He’s the biggest confidence man in all the limbo. He was two weeks on the line. Had to take a couple of breaks because he burnt his foot off, almost caused two of my best men to do the same, brought our quota way down, and finally managed to trick his way into a recruiting job.” He sighed. “So he gets hold of the first real iron worker we’ve had in this miserable place, and recruits him as… what?”

“I’m the new Governor here,” Arthur said with a touch of pride.

To his surprise, they all burst out laughing. Arthur heard, “he really did it.” “I feel sorry for skinny here,” “He can’t be too bright to fall for old Jimmy.”

“Look here,” Arthur said, his spirits sinking. “I am Governor here. Jimmy seemed to think I’d be good at the job.”

The big man bowed. “Your subject, Shadrach Jones, sire. May I ask you what sort of executive experience you have?” Arthur looked blank. “Experience running things,” Shadrach said. “Form filling in quadruplicate, stocktaking, ordering supplies, quality inspection, allocation of material and resources, legal affairs and occasional diplomacy when one of your subjects escapes, or when the occasional Devil appears and asks for asylum. Not to mention dealing with two of the most hidebound bureaucracies around, the Devils and the Angels, and that’s just a short list.”

“I’ve been a temporary line foreman a couple of times,” Arthur ventured lamely, intimidated by the big man’s eloquence.

Shadrach groaned. “I’d like to wring Jimmy Wheeler’s neck,” he said. “We finally get someone who can be of use to us and he gets lashed to the mast.” Shadrach grinned at Arthur’s confusion. “That’s an expression we use. You see, if anything goes wrong here, someone has to pay the price, and who better than the Governor, a person who is just a drag on the economy. They can’t send us all to Hell, unless they retire the entire Limbo, so, Arthur, you are the sacrificial goat.”

“I was told that being Governor was a fast track to Heaven,” Arthur said, fighting to keep a complaining whine out of his tone.

“That’s what Jimmy told me,” Shadrach said cheerfully, “but I’m no fool – sorry Arthur. Governors usually last about four months here,” he continued callously. “Of course, the Council moves very slowly. It takes about one hundred years to render a verdict, once you’ve been fired.”

“Plenty of time to redeem myself,” Arthur said, brightening up.

“It doesn’t work that way,” Shadrach told him. “If you are charged with incompetence or worse you get locked up in gaol – a kind of Limbo within Limbo. It’s not a happy place. Some prisoners have petitioned to go straight to Hell.”

Arthur looked at them. “Who will be briefing me, back at the foundry?”

“I will,” Shadrach said. “I’ve been acting Governor for a couple of weeks. Thank God that’s over.”

“I might as well give you a hand,” Arthur told him. “You can brief me while we’re walking.”

Later, in a small office, lost in a dirty corner of the foundry, Shadrach and Arthur faced each other.

“We call ourselves Intermediates,” Shadrach said. “I don’t know why, it was always that way.” He refilled Arthur’s glass. “We have five pubs,” he said. “That constitutes our nightlife. The beer tastes like vinegar and the food, when they bother to serve any, tastes like cardboard.”

Arthur drank and grimaced. “Is it as bad as this at the other Limbo?” he asked.

“No,” Shadrach said judiciously, “most of them are a little better than this. Jimmy Wheeler has been starving this place since he took over as head recruiter. We get shorted on supplies, slandered in Heaven and Hell, and” he glanced at Arthur, saddled with idiot Governors.”

Arthur felt a familiar frustration, dealing with the big man, who spoke confidently, like one of the factory bosses who occasionally deigned to address the workers from on high. “Wait a minute,” Arthur was getting angry. “I may have no experience, but I’m going to try, as long as I last.”

Shadrach eyed him coldly. “What can you do,” he said, “You’re just a … an ironworker.”

Arthur looked at Shadrach, anger threatening to choke him. He had been murdered by smooth, confident O’Grady, fooled by fast-talking Jimmy Wheeler and patronized by Demon and Angel recruiters. This self-assured man in front of him, a man in Limbo, working in the foundry, still had the power to intimidate, to turn him into the small boy on the canal bank. He hadn’t thought of that small boy, filled with big dreams in a long time, and thinking of his younger self, Arthur felt the anger change to something colder and more determined. They had all pushed him around, and he had let them, without thinking, a mindless drone that they had turned him into.

“I knew it,” he said disgustedly. “Say what you mean. I am a common ignorant worker, not fit to run a public lavatory. You’re a Toff,” he said triumphantly. “Behind that foundry dirt and the fighters face, you’re a gent. It must really hurt you to have to work with monkeys like us, get your hands dirty, get calluses, just like us,” he shoved his hands in Shadrach’s face. “At least I know what I am,” he said. “I didn’t get sent to Limbo for nothing. I’ve been weak and stupid and vicious. I’m not a nice person, but I had dreams of changing my life when I was younger, being a better husband and father.” He suddenly thought of Joe, his best friend. Joe, who went to work uncomplaining, and who gave most of his money to his mother, and who never knowingly hurt anyone. “I used to think being the hardest man on the street was the best I could be, but there were men a lot stronger than me, men who didn’t have to prove it with their fists and their loud voices.” He stopped, surprised at himself.

“Alright,” Shadrach said. “We’re supposed to be talking about the easiest way to run Limbo. “I was merely saying that, because of your upbringing, because of your class, through no fault of your own, you are not equipped to govern four thousand undead citizens.”

“You know,” Arthur told him. “You’ve been out of touch. Workers have been unionizing, even forming political parties. No,” he said, forestalling Shadrach, “We’re not equipped. Have you seen men in the real world, coughing up their lungs? Have you seen our so-called fighting men, dying by the hundreds, not just in wars, but in dirty hospitals, or under an unheated tent in winter?” He held up his hands again. “These hands didn’t kill them. These hands don’t control the world. It’s you, and yours that control the world.” He banged the table and stood up. “Tell me I’m a fool who was taken in by a second rate salesman, but don’t use my class to tell me I’m not fit to run this miserable place.”

The office door banged open, and one of the supervisors entered. “What’s going on, Shad?”

“Get out,” Shadrach said. He took a deep breath and looked at Arthur. “Last time anyone talked to me like that, he was unable to work for a month,” he murmured.

Arthur looked at the big man. “You can put me down for a couple of days,” he said. “But I’ll guarantee that I’ll hurt you.”

Shadrach looked at him steadily. “This is Limbo,” he said. “Don’t expect any apologies. We’re all here for a reason. There’s no compassion here, and very little friendship.”

“Just let me do my job,” Arthur told him. “I have a month, maybe, I have nothing to lose, and I’m angry as Hell.”

“You’re quite a surprise,” Shadrach said. “You know, you’ll have no respect and few friends, even if you make matters a little better, which I doubt, and afterwards, you’ll go to Hell.”

Arthur rode his anger. “The first thing I need to do,” he said, “is to get rid of Jimmy Wheeler. I think I’ll be the recruiter for this particular Limbo.”

Shadrach gaped at him. “You can’t be Governor and a recruiter,” he said. “It’s against the rules.”

“Show me where,” Arthur said, “these rules are written down.” He was beginning to enjoy himself. Shadrach, after all, was a man, like Arthur himself, a man who could be caught off balance, even made to feel foolish.

“It’s the way we’ve always done things,” Shadrach told him.

“We’ll change the way things are done.”

“I admire your determination, I really do,” Shadrach said. “But you won’t have time to do anything other than fill out the paperwork, listen to complaints, and deal with disputes.”

“I’ll have time,” Arthur said, “because you will be running this place for the next few days.” Again, Shadrach gaped at him. “You’ve managed for two weeks,” Arthur said. “Manage for a few more days.” Now he was really enjoying himself. For the first time since his death he was in control. ‘If I have a month before going to Hell,’ he thought, ‘it will be almost worth it. And what have I got to lose, anyway?’

“What makes you think that I’ll do anything for you,” Shadrach stormed.

“Because, sir, I saw your face when I said that you and yours had done an awful job of running the world. I don’t know what your story is, and I don’t want to know, but I do know that, back in the past, you failed miserably.” Arthur smiled. “A gent like you won’t want to be shamed by a common working man.”

“You arrogant little bastard,” Shadrach said. “What makes you think you are anything special?”

“What makes you think you’re any better than me?” Arthur countered.

Shadrach blinked, and then smiled suddenly. “Damn, if you can put one over on Jimmy Wheeler, it’ll almost be worth governing for a little longer.”

“When I was a kid,” Arthur told him, “I had big dreams, but reality soon set in.” He grinned at Shadrach. “I used to get angry and start a fight, and that was the end of it. I’m angry now, angry at the bastard who stabbed me, and angry at Jimmy Wheeler. It’s like a fire running through me, and it’s not going away. I have a chance to shake up this world. I’m angry and I don’t give a damn. I’m dead, and I’ll probably be gone in a month, and I have nothing to lose.”

“Just so long as you don’t drag us all down with you,” Shadrach said.

They stood up and Arthur held out his hand. Shadrach enfolded it in his large paw, and Arthur was tempted to give Shadrach a sample of his iron grip, except, he thought, toff or not, the big man would probably break his knuckles. “Come on,” he said. “You can show me around and tell the workers that you will be Governor for a little longer.”

They walked into the din of the foundry and Arthur looked around curiously. “Fasten your boot,” he snapped at one of the workers. “One small splash of molten iron gets inside and you’ll be hopping around like a kangaroo.” He pointed to a small pile of scrap iron. “Move