One Hundred Days Without Fire

By Alex Binney

Marcus Hallum found both when he died prematurely, but neither was expecting him. Clearly, someone had made a mistake and no one was yet ready for Marcus to shuffle off the mortal coil... and neither Heaven nor Hell was prepared to take the chance of accepting someone for all eternity who had not been properly tested on Earth to determine whether he was really good or really bad. And, for similar reasons, neither Limbo nor Purgatory seemed appropriate, either.

The solution was clear, although somewhat unusual: Marcus would be returned to Earth for just a hundred days, and tested thoroughly to determine his proper domicile for the rest of Eternity.

But, of course, it was never going to be THAT simple...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Strict Publishing International
• Release date: Oct 16, 2013
• ISBN: 9780857793119

Alex Binney

Alex is a well established English author of murder mystery novels. He took early retirement as a manager from a major UK bank to pursue his first love of writing murder mysteries. Over the years he has devised numerous plots which he did not have chance to bring to his readership whilst pursuing his bank career. Divorced, he lives in Plymouth, Devon, UK, and you can correspond with him on Facebook.

Book preview

Chapter One: A Pure Accident

Marcus Hallum was in a hurry.

He had slept in, and would be late for work.

He knew, however, that he could not avoid Mrs. McElry’s breakfast. The landlady was insistent that all her lodgers went out into the world every day with something substantial in their stomachs. Moreover, she hated wasting food, and he knew his breakfast would be waiting for him.

As he tucked into a meal of frizzled bacon, overdone eggs and baked beans that tasted like bullets, he reflected on what it would be like to own his own house.

That seemed a long way off, being just a humble clerk at a large furniture store.

Having bolted down his food at the rate of knots, he thanked the landlady for the meal and rushed along the street towards the bus stop, which was situated on the other side of the road.

Marcus saw the number 23 making its way towards the waiting passengers. As there were only three in the queue, he knew he had to make haste. In his terror of missing the bus, he dashed across the road without looking properly.

That was when the car hit him.

He pitched several feet in the air and landed on the ground with a sickening thud, several witnesses crying out in shock.

Is he dead? enquired one onlooker.

Looks like it, said another, claiming to be a doctor. Call 999.

A crowd had now gathered, apparently out of nowhere, as the medic gave mouth-to-mouth resuscitation and pressed down firmly several times on the victim’s chest in an attempt to revive him.

It’s no good, said the doctor. I think he’s gone.

Chapter Two: Tug-of-War

It seemed to Marcus that he had embarked on some sort of strange journey.

As he felt himself floating in the air and looking down on the spectacle below him, he felt undeterred that he appeared to be looking at his own prostrate body in the road with all those anxious faces gathered about him.

The scene only lasted for a minute before he felt himself being sucked along some strange kaleidoscopic tunnel that seemed to rotate about him as he moved through it.

Afterwards, he imagined he was walking on a carpet of cloud, having no feeling in his feet, yet still with the ability to walk.

Moments later, a great golden gate, covered in pearls, appeared before him, and a prodigious and imposing figure manifested himself, with a large tome in front of him resting on a sloping desk.

He had long white hair, and a beard that nearly reached his navel.

Who are you? asked the guardian at the gate.

Marcus Hallum, sir.

Hallum? Hallum? We’re not expecting anyone called Hallum. You probably should be reporting to the other place. The guardian thumbed through the large tome in front of him. Ah, found you, he said at last. "You’re not due here for assessment for many a year yet. You must have done something really bad to be in front of me already. I’ll have to send you down below."

Below? queried Marcus.

Yes, said the guardian, who identified himself as Saint Peter. To the other place.

In the blink of an eye, Marcus found himself in front of the Devil, who was guarding a large, black wrought iron gate.

Who the hell are you? he asked angrily.

"That’s a clever pun – who the hell are you? – bearing in mind the circumstances," observed the new arrival.

Satan was not amused. "I said who are you?"

Marcus Hallum. I was sent down here by St. Peter.

Hallum? I’m not expecting anybody of that name. Are you some sort of reject?

Reject?

Yes. Someone who was admitted upstairs and then found to be lacking the quality they were expecting.

I don’t think so. I just appeared before this bearded fellow who said I wasn’t due there for many years yet and that I must have done something wrong, so he sent me down to you.

Satan looked enlightened. Ah! It’s a cop out – that’s what it is. They’ve cocked up, haven’t they?

Sorry... I don’t understand...

"No, you wouldn’t. Let me explain. Everything that goes on as far as the planet Earth is concerned is down to Him upstairs. Everything. God knows I’ve made several attempts to send an anti-Christ down there, but He’s foiled me on every occasion. So, anything that happens on Earth is down to Him. They try and kid everyone on the planet that God moves in mysterious ways as an excuse when anything nasty happens, but really it’s a cop out. He doesn’t always get it right, or he misses things. That’s why these bad things happen – they can’t pin it on me, I’m not allowed a presence there. So, if that St. Peter says you’ve arrived up there too early, then it’s their cock-up. They can’t cover it up by sending their mistakes down to me. I only want proper evil people down here, not their rejects or mistakes. I won’t have it. So, back up you go..."

Within seconds, by some strange means of transportation, Marcus found himself outside the pearl-studded golden gate again.

What? said St. Peter. Are you back again?

I… uh... yes. The chap you sent me to says he’s not having any of your cock-ups or rejects, replied Marcus. He seems fairly adamant.

Yes, he would be. That’s the nature of the beast.

I feel like I’m piggy in the middle here, Marcus continued. Don’t the two of you communicate?

Hardly ever. Our lines of demarcation are quite clear. This is quite an unusual situation we are faced with here.

Yes, well, he’s laying the entire fault at your door. He says he has no control over what happens on Earth – that’s all down to you.

"He would say that. He has his own ways of interfering. He gets into people’s heads and makes them do evil things. He’s quite good at that."

So what’s going to happen now?

St. Peter grunted. I suppose we shall have to open a channel of communication between us. I shall have to obtain sanction to do that, however. Wait here, if you will.

I’m not going anywhere, said Marcus.

Chapter Three: The Proposal

When St. Peter returned he looked quite put out.

We can’t reach agreement on this, said the guardian of the gate. We seem to be at some sort of impasse...

Can’t you refer the matter to a higher authority? asked Marcus.

Dear me, no. That would never do. The ‘powers that be’ have their hands full with far more important issues. This can only be regarded as a comparatively small spot on the escutcheon as far as you are concerned.

I hardly think that’s the correct phraseology, argued his opposite number.

Oh, it is. Otherwise you wouldn’t find yourself in this position. I’ll tell you what: I have an idea that might suit both parties. Wait here again, and I shall be back in two shakes of a lamb’s tail...

This was getting silly, Marcus thought. Here he was in No-Man’s Land, not knowing where his fate lay or why he found himself in this position. The only thing he found curious was that he had no emotions about what was happening to him. Why was that? Surely he should be feeling anger or frustration... or even a feeling of helplessness. But no... there was no feeling at all.... almost as if he was incapable of experiencing such elements of emotion.

Before he could consider the matter further, the bearded guardian had returned.

"I have had to consult someone of a higher authority than I, after all, he said. This was due to the intransigence of the fellow below. Anyway, we’ve agreed on a proposal that suits all parties..."