Limbo Liberation

Chapter 1: Death


Looking at Marlo White, you’d never have expected him to end up in front of a train that afternoon. Of course, he was just as shocked about it as anyone else. It wasn’t exactly on his to do list. Very little was, now he was done with school. He headed home, walking the same route he had for years.
You could be forgiven for thinking he didn’t have a care in the world. He certain looked that way. His eyes lazily scanned a sky as blue as they were, his salt and pepper curls bouncing as he walked, and his tall slender body was practically strolling down the dirt path. He was, in short, nothing special. He looked unbothered. But a discerning eye, one that was looking past the surface, would see things differently. They’d see those hands, tanned as the rest of him, clench and unclench as he walked, as if he was thinking of something unpleasant. They’d see his soft face wearing a distant look, as if deep in thought. They’d see that this stroll, while appearing casual, was actually slow, meandering, like a river in no hurry to get anywhere. Not in a careless way, but… as if he was delaying something. As if, in effect, he was trudging along, rather than walking, to a place he really didn’t want to end up. That place was back home.
Marlo was not happy. He wasn’t exactly sad, to be fair, but he certainly wasn’t happy. He weighed up the pros and cons in his head as he walked. Pro, he was leaving school. Marlo had never liked school. Academically, he was inept. He wasn’t exactly stupid… at least he hoped he wasn’t. But… he just couldn’t do it. He’d tried, back when he was young. Tried so, so hard, to actually study, actually succeed, and actually mesh with the place. But it had made no real difference. He hadn’t been happier. In fact, he’d been miserable. And there had been no improvement in his grades, not after hours of work. So a while ago… he’d given up. Checked out mentally, gone through the motions. Did the bare minimum work, cutting corners wherever he could. He called it going with the flow. He’d gotten pretty good at it, taking the path of least resistance, just coasting through. The fact he was done having to do that, was a relief. That was definitely a pro. Now, onto the cons.
The sunlight filtered down through the leaves, tinting green as it fell on Marlo. The air was warm, the breeze was light, and the woods he knew so, so well, were spectacular. He wasn’t in the right mind to enjoy it though. He was six cons in and counting. He’d blown it. What could he do now, after school? These grades were passable, sure. He could certainly go… somewhere. But when he wondered where, and to do what he just… couldn’t muster any energy. Nothing interested him. Nothing at all. He felt like there was something he should be doing though, and that made this apathetic blanket over his mind all the more frustrating. Marlo wasn’t the type to just exist. He had to be doing something, contributing somehow. But… for too long, he’d done just that, hadn’t he? He’d floated through life, unbothered, uncaring. Now, that he actually had to care… he couldn’t.
He reached the train tracks that crossed the path, still lost in thought. He didn’t want to go any further. Back home were his parents. They expected more of him, but Marlo didn’t resent them for that. He expected more of himself than this listless life, he had enough self-respect to do that at least. No, what pissed him off about them was that… they cared. While he didn’t. They kept supporting him, kept expecting him to do better, kept hoping that he’d make something of himself. Going home now and showing them that he hadn’t… that he couldn’t… the thought was like Someone had grabbed Marlo’s innards in a fist and was slowly twisting them. He didn’t want to face the consequences. He hated the idea so much. He knew it wouldn’t solve the problem, but right now, he wanted to just leave. Walk off into the woods, spend a few hours there, anything to delay the looks on their faces, the realisation that he was such a wasted investment. This hesitation made him look down the tracks, and that was how he saw the tarp.
It was greenish-grey, stirring in the breeze. Something about it didn’t look right to Marlo, in a way he couldn’t quite explain. It was too motionless, this big tarp barely moving in the wind, just the edges twitching. Like it was stuck to the tracks, like it was hiding something. As he thought this, more out of idle curiosity than any real suspicion, a corner flipped up. It was only for a second, but it revealed what it was hiding. His eyes widened, and he started forwards, a stumbling run towards a tarp now moving a lot more. This movement didn’t reveal what he’d seen for a second time, but as he approached, he started hearing noises from underneath. They were muffled, hard to make out even in the still afternoon, but he kept going, hoping he’d been wrong, that he hadn’t seen what he’d just seen. It had been a human hand. And it had been moving.
He sprinted over, feet spraying gravel as he did so, grabbed the cloth, and ripped it back roughly. Underneath was the face of a woman. Maybe middle aged, it was hard to tell through the massive bruises and blood stains that mottled her face. Her mouth was gagged, and the one eye not swallowed in a black, swollen mass widened as Marlo peeled back the fabric.
‘MMMMM! MGGGHH!’
Her neck, along with every limb, was bound to the rails by thick ropes. The rails that, as Marlo watched, started to vibrate. He looked to his right, and saw, snaking towards them like a hunting viper, coming down a hill less than a half mile away. The train.

‘Oh God. Oh… I…’ Marlo had nothing. He felt sick. Shakily, he dropped his bag, and, after some frantic searching, pulled out a tiny pocketknife. He used it to open bottles, and the torch attachment for when he dropped his phone down the side of his bed. He hadn’t even seen the blade in the past year. When he pulled it out, the blade got stuck for a second, and in his panic, he dropped it. After some frantic scrabbling to pick it back up, upon being unsheathed, it looked painfully small.
‘I don’t know if this’ll be enough,’ he said to the woman. She just made another desperate noise through her gag. Marlo tried to take a deep breath but felt like his chest was closing up. Just a second ago, he had been a different person, one who’d never, ever end up seeing something like this. His problems had been non-existent compared to what was happening now. The whiplash made him want to cry. ‘I… You’re gonna be fine. Let me just see…’
He stuck the knife into the tarp and ripped it open. What he saw made him almost throw up on the spot. The woman’s body was stripped to just rags, her clothes shredded, and her flesh beaten and bloody. At least two of her limbs were bent at unnatural angles, bound horribly to the rails. She definitely couldn’t walk, even if he did get her out. The metal was hot, too hot, warmed all day by the sun Marlo had thought was so nice just a minute ago. It must have been agonising to lie on, and he wondered how long she had been here. He hadn’t seen her when he had walked to school this way this morning. But what if she had been there, and this was just the first train of the day?
‘How long had…’
Come on, this wasn’t the time for this! He looked desperately at her bindings, trying to work out which one to cut first. But did it matter? Surely every single one helped. She wouldn’t be free until they were all gone, so why not just pick one at random?
He leant in, bringing his knife to cut her gag. She pulled her neck back as best she could, and made a strained, terrified groan.
‘It’s okay!’ Marlo said. ‘I won’t hurt you!’ The woman shook her head as best as she could and motioned with her eyes to the ropes wrapping her to the rails. Marlo stared for a second or two, then realised what she meant. Cutting her gag didn’t help. That wouldn’t make her any safer, and it certainly wouldn’t get her out of the train’s path.
‘Oh God, you’re right. I’m so sorry- I should have…’ Another strained grunt from the woman interrupted him. He didn’t have time to apologise. He shook himself and nodded.
‘You’re going to be fine,’ he assured her, leaning in and sawing at the rope around her neck. ‘I’m going to get you out of here.’ He could feel the vibrations of the approaching train, hear it getting closer. The woman would be able to as well. Could he get her out in time?
The rope gave way under some frantic sawing. He almost put too much force into it, almost cut into her neck, but stopped just in time. The woman, now able to move her neck, pulled it away from the metal bar. It made a series of crunching pops as it moved that brought tears to Marlo’s eyes. He fought through them, bringing the all-too-small blade to the rope around her right arm. He cut and cut, trying to block out the rumbling noise coming up from the rail, and soon that arm was free too.
It was bent and broken, with a dreadful burn from the hot metal, and was clearly beyond her control. Not wanting to leave it mangled around the bar, Marlo gingerly pulled it across the woman’s chest. She bit down on her screams, clearly understanding his intentions, and he tried not to recoil at the sensation of puffy, hot flesh. He moved to the next arm, throwing himself at the rope, as his head pounded. He was too slow, way too slow! He was leant over the woman awkwardly, one hand cutting the rope, the other bearing all his weight. That palm was splayed on gravel, and as he leaned over, it broke the skin of his hand, making him grit his teeth. His other hand sawed incessantly, back and forth, back and forth. Eventually, he freed her arm. This one she could move by herself. She immediately reached over, grabbing her broken arm and pulled it, groaning the whole way, to what must have been a more comfortable position.
‘Sorry!’ Marlo said, his flushed cheeks accentuating the throbbing in his skull. ‘That looks bad… I learned in school how to make a sling, so I can give you one when I get you… out…’
He made the mistake of looking up and saw the train. It was way closer than he’d thought it would be and was coming fast. Too fast. Much too fast. He couldn’t save her. There was no way in hell.
‘Oh no.’ He whispered, eyes burning. The woman looked back too, and started to scream beneath her gag, thrashing violently.
‘Stop!’ Marlo yelled, fighting the creeping feeling of despair and losing. ‘Just calm down and I’ll… I’ll…’ There was no way the train would stop in time. It wasn’t even slowing down yet, the driver probably not seeing the two prone figures on the track. He couldn’t get her out. He couldn’t do anything. Anything at all. Nothing he could do would save her. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and fearful.
‘I…’ Marlo wanted to run. He had to! He couldn’t stay… if he did… ‘I’m sorry.’
The woman screamed, the sound shredding Marlo’s insides and her one arm grabbed him. She was begging him. But what could he do? If he stayed there, they’d both get hit. If he stepped back then only she would… would… He couldn’t hold it anymore. He doubled over and threw up; hot, stinging gunk rushing up his throat and splattering all over the ground. He managed to turn away from the woman, as in his head, he saw what would happen to her. The massive bulk of the train would grind her to nothing, the violent combination of weight and speed vaporising her into a fine mist.
Her grip loosened, and he stared at her, breathing heavily. She shook her head and closed her eyes. His heart sank. She wanted him to go, to leave her to this. If she was okay with it then… He heard a noise, a persistent, coarse grating, barely audible over the encroaching train. He looked down, and saw that he was still cutting, attacking the much thicker ropes around her legs. He hadn’t even realised he was doing it. His body was doing it on his own. Why? He couldn’t help her; it just wasn’t possible to get her out in time. He had to… he had to…
He gave a yell of adrenaline and threw himself back into it. The woman, who’d closed her eyes, opened them again. She looked at him, and her protests were clear even through the gag. She started whacking him, trying to push him away, but he fought through it.
‘Shut up!’ He yelled. ‘I’m not… I can’t leave you! I know… I know I can’t do it, but if I don’t try… I’ll never be able to…’ The words wouldn’t come. Marlo doubted he could articulate it at the best of times, and this sure as shit wasn’t those. But he knew, with every last part of his soul, that if he backed up even a little now, he would never, ever forgive himself. He was doing this, or he would die trying. Too late to back out now.
‘Work on your right leg!’ He yelled ‘Do whatever you can!’ Her shouts died down. Now that he’d knelt next to her for this long Marlo realised how much like his mother she looked, evident even through the rampant bruising. She might have kids of her own, and that was why she wanted him to go. He could get her out though. He had to! He pressed that rope with all his might.
He was still just as scared. That hadn’t changed. If that train hit, they’d both die on the spot. But he couldn’t let that stop him. He fought and fought as the train tracks rattled, louder and louder, harder and harder. The woman clawed at the rope on her other leg as he finally cut through this one. If her efforts meant one less second cutting, then they were worth it. The train was closer, a wall of sound rushing at them mercilessly. He couldn’t spare time to wonder how close it was.
He attacked the last rope with all he had. He was shaking, and that made him occasionally glimpse the train, out of the corner of his eye. Time felt slower the nearer it got. He could see the driver; it was that close. A middle aged, balding man, he’d slammed the brake, but Marlo held no misconceptions that would save them. Not even close. He had to cut her free, and then pull her down under the train, between the tracks. It’d be agonising, probably burst their eardrums, but there was a chance, their only chance, of survival. He ripped and tore, not even noticing he was screaming, a bellow of pure fear and effort, pushing his entire body into cutting this one rope. How long did he have? Twenty seconds? Ten? His whole body was tensing for a blow it couldn’t possibly survive. With one last roar, he sliced through the rope and freed the woman.
His hands moved before he thought, his body operating before his brain could catch up. His hands grabbed the woman by the shoulders, his hips rotated, and using every last possible bit of strength he had left, he threw her over him, out of harm’s way. The act of doing so turned him upside down, bringing him face to face with the train, now less than a metre away.
For an instant, a single point in time that felt like an eternity, everything went still. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the woman crashing to the ground just beyond the tracks. Her arms, both the working one and the broken, reaching for him. He didn’t care about that though, his eyes fixed on the massive hulk of metal in front of him. The logo DVIN was emblazoned across its front, blue and purple. It stank of oil and couldn’t possibly be avoided from this close. It was a wedge of metal, stabbing forwards at him, impossible to dodge. This was it. He was going to die here. here, in the woods he’d known for so long, had spent so much of his life in, walking, climbing, swimming, living. He was going to die, right here, after saving this woman’s life. Just when his life was supposed to be starting for real. Dying, beneath a warm sun and a blue sky, having just saved a woman from the fate that he was about to experience.
Right before impact, his final act in this life, Marlo smiled. There were worse ways to go.
Time sped up again. The train smashed into him, shattering his skull first and obliterating his brain. It travelled practically through him, vaporising his body, just as he had imagined it would. Bone fragments flew everywhere, embedding themselves into the ground or even driving deeply into nearby tree trunks. The bulk of his blood sprayed upwards, splattering the window of the poor driver with a gory shower, who would need eighteen months protracted therapy to ever touch a brake lever again. Not one recognisable body part remained. From head to toe, even in the most minute areas such as teeth or inner ears, Marlo White was destroyed, utterly and wholly. Death was instant and, almost certainly, painless.




Chapter 2: What Comes After

Marlo opened his eyes again. Then frowned. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He hadn’t exactly felt it, not for any length of time that was significant enough to count, but it was hard not to notice several hundred tons of metal passing through your body at 80 kph. It was completely impossible to bring him back from that. There was nothing left to resuscitate. He had died. Unquestionably. Then it hit him. Of course he had died. This was what came next.
He was standing, wearing white, light, clothes he’d never seen before, in a resplendent room. It reminded him of a bank lobby for some reason, though it didn’t look like any bank he’d ever been to. Perfectly smooth, faintly cool marble was beneath his bare feet. There were golden pillars all around him, and soothing, warm lights overhead. It was spacious and pleasant, and Just being here felt calming. This felt as much like the afterlife as anywhere could.
‘Ah, good.’ A buzzing voice said. Marlo’s eyes focused, and he noticed a small figure in front of him. Dressed all in dark clothing, an individual stood. Well, not stood. Blurred. The outline of the man was fuzzy, and faint images of him appeared and disappeared all over the room, just in the corner of Marlo’s vision. Every time he turned to look at one, it disappeared. This same shimmering effect made the man’s voice buzz and hum as he spoke, like a fly’s wings. ‘You appear to have come to terms with your own mortality, or should I say, lack thereof. Saves me time.’
‘This is… Heaven?’ Marlo hadn’t believed in life, but it was the natural conclusion to draw from his surroundings. The man snorted, making a sound like a blender starting.
‘Heaven? For the likes of you? Don’t bet on it.’
‘Huh?’ the still befuddled Marlo felt, for some reason, he had to argue his case, ‘I died saving someone. That has to count for something.’
‘Oh, remember that do you? Good for you. But think hard kid. You sure you never did anything bad ever?’
‘I mean, ever, sure. But surely not enough that I’d not be-’
‘We’ll see later.’ The figure interrupted him. ‘No, this ain’t Heaven, kid. But luckily for you, this ain’t Hell either. This is Limbo. And I have the pleasure of being your introductory guide.’ There was suddenly a water bottle in the man’s hand. He hadn’t walked anywhere for it or pulled it out of anywhere. Nothing there one instant, water bottle the next. The label read DVIN. Marlo felt that was important for some reason. The man took a swig. ‘The name’s Hermes.’
‘Hermes?’ Marlo asked, trying to keep up, and failing. ‘Like… the God?’
‘Something like that,’ Hermes said dismissively. Marlo had to admit, if he were to imagine Hermes at any point before meeting him, he’d have imagined a little… more. The man in front of him was short. Maybe thin, it was hard to tell since he was swamped in layers. Over his clothes, which were a mix of greys and darker greys, was a large, black cloak. He wore a hat so wide brimmed two of him could fit under it, and underneath that, there was a hint of two golden circles, which peered out at Marlo.
‘Aren’t you supposed to have wings on your shoes and hat?’ he asked, weakly.
‘They’re in the wash.’ Hermes yawned, sounding like a desk fan. ‘Listen kid, can we get a move on? I’ve got 400 new clients just since you got here. Splitting my attention between you all gets distracting, so I’d like to get your examination over with quickly.’
‘I mean… I don’t know what it is… but sure.’
‘Five hundred now.’ Hermes checked his watch. ‘Let me just show you. Hold still.’
‘Hold still? Why would I need to – Huh?’ As Marlo was talking, Hermes blurred behind him. He tried to turn, but one hand placed itself on his back, and one gripped the back of his cranium. With strength that was unlike anything he’d ever felt, his head was grated back into place, not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to show that it definitely could. The hand on his back tilted, and he was lifted slightly off the ground. Before he even had chance to react to this, the world blurred. He rocketed forwards at an unbelievably sudden velocity out of a pair of double doors, and down corridor after corridor, snapping left and right at speeds he had never experienced in his entire life. Gold and white blurred past, and he shut his eyes as he began to feel terribly ill. This made it worse. The wind tore at him, feeling like it was trying to shear his face off. His hair flapped behind him, almost at risk of being left behind, and all his organs felt like they were crowding up in his head. He started to scream but couldn’t even hear it.
then, just as suddenly, they stopped. The practically instant termination of the fierce force that had been making him hurtle along made him fall forwards, collapsing in a jittering heap. Behind him, there were a series of awful grating sounds. Gasping and gagging, he managed to roll over and saw that Hermes was pulling on a lever which was – he blinked. Yes, it was set directly into his leg.