Prologue

JACOB RICO had been to hell before, figuratively speaking; but even as his wife prayed for his life, Rico descended into hell… literally. The moment his heart stopped, a shadow on horseback approached. Extending a barely perceptible form of a hand, it reached into Rico’s body and pulled fiercely on his soul.

Horror filled Rico’s eyes as he peered back at his motionless body. As the horse rose up to the ceiling, Rico had time to see Joey below. He tried to yell at her as he realized that the paper she was waving at the surgeons was the duly notarized Do Not Resuscitate form he had given her only weeks before—too late for a change of mind.

Rico resisted to no avail as the horseman placed shackles on him and rudely jerked him through the hospital floor. They plunged into nothingness for a few seconds and then floated upward. It wasn’t dark like he expected—at least not yet. The horse suddenly broke into a fierce gallop, as if racing time itself. Ahead, Rico spotted dark clouds surrounding a black, smoking gate. Ear‑piercing wails grew ever louder from beyond it. The full force of where he was—and its significance—finally struck Rico, now screaming for Joey and Jennifer.

The horseman ignored him. Darkness enveloped them. The horseman stopped at the gate and shrieked.

Barely had the double gates creaked open when the screams from within shook Rico with the force of their anguish. He peeked ahead to see flames rising from gigantic pits scattered farther than his eyes could see. Millions of condemned souls turned to see the newest resident. “Mercy!” they cried.

Just before Rico was yanked past the threshold, he noticed four shooting stars streaming toward him from above. He determined they were angels when one came to a stop, revealed its form, and then struck and broke the chain with a brilliant two‑edged sword.

The horseman shrieked with anger. In response, ten hideously ugly creatures arrived almost instantaneously. Rico shuddered. Anger and hatred distorted their faces; grotesque boils covered their bodies. He gasped at the sight of them.

“The man of flesh belongs to Satan,” one creature screeched. Others echoed the same in spine‑chilling hisses.

Three of the angels engaged the beings with their swords and with words from the Lord of Hosts. “It is not his appointed time, thus saith the Lord of Hosts,” trumpeted the one spiriting Rico away.

The creatures hissed with greater ferocity, spewing hellish spit. One flew by and grabbed Rico’s bicep, digging deep with sharp, filthy talons. The angels would have none of that; one struck the creature with an expert swipe of his sword. The creature screamed in agony, evaporated into black smoke, and then reconstituted itself next to one of the flaming pits. The other creatures broke off the battle and flew through the gates, slamming them shut behind them.

The horseman walked alongside the angels for a time, then veered off back to Earth. At first, the horse—or whatever it was—just plodded along; then, after breaking into a trot, the horse and rider vanished in a stream of black particles. Seconds later, it came by with yet another soul.

Rico saw this even as the angels turned toward a gleaming cloud surrounded by iridescent walls. Rico figured he was about to enter paradise, unlike that other soul. Then they stopped near the entrance, encircled him, and assumed defensive stances.