“Wake up.” A feminine voice kept repeating these words until I opened my eyes.

  “Good morning, sweetie.”

  A bright smile woke me. I took a swig from my flask and lit a cig.

  “Can’t a man die in peace anymore, and shouldn’t I be in hell?” I said.

  “I wanted to talk to the man who was trying to better my world.” The Goddess said.

  “I bashed a man's head in repeatedly until he was dead because he annoyed me. Then I killed over 100 men. How can I be making the world better?” I asked.

  “Because you freed hundreds of slaves, and you helped people when you were alive, even though you had no reason to.” The Goddess said.

  You know, I hate calling her just The Goddess.

  “Amaterasu is my name,” Amaterasu said.

  Sweet Christ, she can read my thoughts.

  “Yes, I can read your mind, and you do think some odd things,” Amaterasu said.

  You know I can think about anything I like and the horrible things I've seen. So, can I go die, or am I clocking back in?

  “Yes, I’ll send you back,” Amaterasu said.

  “Sweet Christ am alive and in horrible amounts of pain, fuck, and where the fuck am I, and where are my clothes?” I said.

  Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

  I took a swig from my flask. I don’t have any clothes on, but I still have my flask. I’m on the second floor of a nice wooden house in the middle of the forest. I try to get out of bed and walk, but my legs buckle, so I start dragging myself around to the desk that was across from the bed. I found a note on the desk.

  It said, “If you’re moving, you’re ready to go, or one determined fucker is trying to get you self-killed. Either one, your clothes are in the drawer, and your weapons are downstairs.”

  I put on my clothes and continue to drag myself till I get downstairs. There were two women inside a kitchen. One is cooking, the other reading the paper. It reminded me of my past and living with my parents—and I wish it didn’t.

  “Hey, it looks like the stray that reeks of death has finally woken up,” the girl reading the paper said.

  “Funny. Can I get my knife and gun so I can leave? I have to start some shit,” I said.

  “Come on, Luna, give the man a break.”

  “Okay, I promise,” Luna grumbled to Ruby.

  I was still unable to walk, so I had to tightly hold on to the wall to not buckle under myself.

  “Why don’t you grab a seat and join us for breakfast?” the lady cooking asked.

  “I’m fine. I must’ve already caused a lot of trouble for both of you. I’d like to get moving,” I said.

  “Honey, you can’t even walk; how are you going to do anything? If you go out now, you'll just die, and you'll become someone else's problem, so give yourself a few days to heal and then start your journey,” the cooking lady said.

  “Sure. Thank you for letting me stay, and I will be sure to stay out of your hair.” The lady reading the paper passed me my knife and gun.

  I checked if there was a bullet in the chamber. There was, and I removed the magazine and discharged the bullet. I checked my magazine; there were about 8 bullets, including the one in the pistol. I asked if there were any small, long boxes and two metal balls anywhere. They said there were about 4 magazines and 2 grenades. They laid all of them on the table and placed them in my jacket. For the next few days, I healed, thinking about my next steps. I remember Ash Williams killing Deadites with his chainsaw and boomstick; he was never cut open.

  A few days had passed, and I had finally healed. “Well, thanks for all your help. Now I will be leaving. Stay safe.” I wrote on a note.

  “I guess you’re the type of guy who leaves without saying thanks,” Ruby said.

  “Yeah,” I muttered.

  “Well, at least you wrote a note. All I have to say is don’t get yourself killed out there. I don’t want to carry your body back in here.”

  “I’m thankful for what you two have done and promise to live.”

  I was stricken with melancholy knowing the only thing I would witness in my journey ahead would be horrors no person should see. I paused for a moment before pulling open the door…

  I walked out. I got my bike and left. I knew I wasn’t worth this. For all the sins I committed and the blood I spilled. Nice people—that’s why all I could do was leave them and not drag them into the pits of hell with me…

  A warm wind hit my face. The only sound was the engine beneath me. I’ll once again be alone, as it should be. The only thing I could do now was become stronger. I didn’t feel like cutting off my right hand; the Boomstick will have to do for now. It's time to create something new. It's time to make a Boomstick.