Free Highways to Hell by Bryan Smith

didn’t recognize.
    And disappeared.
    Jack blinked.
    He experienced a jarring sense of displacement. He was standing at the door to his apartment. He had his overnight bag slung over his shoulder and the key to his apartment in his right hand.
    He hesitated.
    He placed an ear to the door and listened.
    He heard heavy breathing.
    Lorene moaning.
    So it was true. Not that he hadn’t been presented with enough incontrovertible evidence already. Still, it was disconcerting to find his desperate wish granted. Lorene was alive on the other side of this door, getting passionate with the coffee shop stud.

Jack experienced a brief surge of his former anger.
    He suppressed it.
    He keyed open the door, drew in a calming breath, and stepped inside to confront the unpleasantness awaiting him. The shirtless stud reacted as before, yelping and grabbing his shirt. Jack clenched his fists tight as the mumbling, blushing kid stumbled by him.
    The fists remained at his sides.
    Jack released the breath he’d been holding and went to the sofa, where he sat down next to Lorene. Lorene didn’t say anything. She picked up her blouse, shrugged it on, and calmly started to button it.
    Jack said, “I forgive you, Lorene.”
    And then she began to cry.
    He took her in his arms and held her.
    After several months of soul-searching and many counseling sessions, Jack and Lorene got married. Jack impressed her by becoming a more sensitive man and a better, more attentive lover. He did the good deeds he’d promised the angel, donating significant portions of each paycheck to a variety of worthy causes.
    All was well in Jack’s world.
    Well, not quite all.
    He did have nightmares about what he’d done prior to being granted his second chance. Mostly he didn’t remember them, but there’d been one so lucid it had almost seemed real. In this dream, he went further than he had in reality. In the dream, his state of intense arousal was not to be denied.
    In the dream, he did...things...unspeakable, awful, sick things to Lorene’s limbless, headless torso.
    Jack awoke from the dream feeling ill, barely making it to the bathroom in time to vomit his steak dinner into the toilet bowl.
    Thankfully, that dream had not recurred.
    And his waking life was filled with joy.
    Then one night he went out for a walk. He stopped at a street corner to dig change out of his pocket for a newspaper. While he was counting out his change, a compact car with tinted windows rolled up beside him.
    The passenger side window rolled down.
    A vaguely familiar voice called out to him: “Mr. Roth!”
    Frowning, Jack turned around.
    For the slightest fraction of a moment, he perceived the muzzle flash of a pistol. Then he gasped as the first of three slugs slammed into his chest.
    He fell dead to the sidewalk and the car peeled off.
    Lorene snatched up the phone on the first ring.
    A shivery sensation of pleasure snaked through her as she heard the beloved voice: “We’re free, baby.”
    Lorene squeaked with delight. “Yes! You did it? You really did it?”
    Jeb Marshall laughed. “Of course. You know I’d do anything for you. You should be hearing from the police soon.”
    Lorene gasped. “Oooh! Let’s not talk about it over the phone.”
    Jeb laughed again. “Gotcha. Listen, when it’s all over, we’ll celebrate our freedom at Mondo Java. Meanwhile, I hope you’re prepared to face the music.”
    Lorene smiled and twisted the phone cord in her hands, wishing it was Jeb’s hair. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.”
    “Coolness. Better go now. Hang in there, babe. I love you.”
    “Love you, too.”
    Lorene returned the phone to its cradle.
    The prospect of facing the police made her a little nervous, but that wasn’t enough to dampen her excitement; she was beside herself with unalloyed joy. She was so glad she’d gone through these months of agony. All those stupid counseling sessions with Jack had been so worth it. Christ, to think they’d almost blown