Warren gave thanks his violent, wasted life had ultimately been redeemable. Hot tears squeezed out from under his lids for all the hurt he had inflicted. As the lethal fluid entered his vein, his eyes sprang open and he smiled at the solemn faces outside his glass cage
An instant of reddish blankness and the witnesses vanished, replaced by a bright light at the end of a long tunnel. It shone off the polished obsidian floor like moonlight on still water. Warren rose, walked towards it, emerged onto a blinding white plain, warm sunless air, a limitless blue sky. Either side, for as far as he could see, bewildered faces stepped out from similar tunnels and streamed through the mist towards the opalescent gates.
"This way Warren," a voice prompted. Powerful wings flexed behind the angelic face that emerged from the glare. He'd made the right choice, Warren reflected. Father Elroy's forgiveness had overwhelmed his initial lack of contrition. The death row priest's own daughter had been one of his victims.
"Please sit Warren. I'm Peter."
Warren looked up startled and found himself standing before tall gates buttressed by massive pillars. A white bearded man sat behind a small table, hands resting lightly on an open book. How had he reached the gates so soon?
"Soon is a relative term." Peter chuckled, "You arrived a thousand years ago."
As he sat, Warren noticed a black door outlined by a red glow, set deep into the pillar.
"Yours has not been a commendable life, has it Warren?" Peter mused. His finger slowly traced down the page, turned it. "Pillage ... sorry," he amended, "larceny - at age seven." He turned more pages. "Rape ... murder ... you name it. Not until just before your death at forty two, did you repent."
The black door slammed back with a searing blast of super-heated air. A horned head grinned wickedly. "Ready?"
Warren jumped, knocking the book off the table. "But I'm forgiven aren't I?" he protested, picking it up, handing it to Peter.
"True, "said Peter wiping it on his sleeve. "But be fair Warren, you can't expect full absolution for last minute compliance. How could I justify it to those exemplary souls who devoted entire lives to god's glory. We're all in his image you know, with the same sensibilities. Wouldn't you be outraged?"
"But the Bi...," Warren protested.
"The Bible," Peter stated flatly, "like all holy books, was written by people, not unlike ... me ... in the language and for the culture of the time."
"Under inspiration surely?"
"Definitely, but not BY him. Sunsets inspire poetry yet never pen a line of verse."
Warren spluttered "But ..."
"No more 'buts'," interrupted Peter. "Time in eternity is divided between Heaven and Hell on a pro rata basis; the majority portion to be served first. Begone."
Evil laughter greeted Warren's anxious question as they descended.
"How long is six sevenths of eternity?"