The Borrowed Souls, A Novel

Chapter 1

Having maneuvered the endlessly stark hallways dozens of times over the past few months, I still couldn’t get use to the stench. A sterile, antiseptic smell hung in the air like an arctic fogbank as I passed through the bleak corridors. Walking along, I could practically feel my energy being sapped from above. I knew it was a figment of my imagination, but I still found it oddly ironic that in place such as this, where life preservation was the standard, the harshness of the overhead lights seemed to counteract that exact intention. I wondered why it was different in other parts of the hospital; color and life were prevalent throughout the decor, but here in the Intensive Care Unit, white was the preferred palette.

Moving into the central core—the bullpen—I glanced at the personnel behind the counter. Having been a constant shadow in the ICU wing, I felt I knew the entire staff by name. When I saw a new male nurse standing near the coattails of one of the doctors, my interest was piqued. In all the time I’d spent searching for the owner of the soul I was there to collect, I had never once considered that it might actually be a doctor or a nurse, and not a dying patient.

I walked toward them in hopes of gleaning the new employee’s name. As I stood near, listening to the doctor ramble on about the various patients’ conditions, I looked over the nurse’s uniform for any indication of his name. Unfortunately his ID badge had been flipped over, and I was unable to read the front side.

Finally, after several minutes of boring medical jargon, the doctor asked if Theo had any questions. After hearing his name, I didn’t stick around a moment longer.

I walked out of the bullpen and headed directly to room 742. As I approached the opening, I glanced at the medical chart hanging just outside, where the name Alistair Hobbs was printed clearly. I smiled and walked in.

As I slid the door shut, Hobbs looked up at me from his bed and smiled. “Hey, Jack. What’s the good word?”

“You know. Same shit, different day. How about you? Hanging in there I see?” I said.

“Well, I’m as surprised as you are. With the way these doctors and nurses prick and prod me, I feel like a human pincushion,” Hobbs said as he adjusted the oxygen tubes near his nose. “Have any luck?” he asked.

“Unfortunately, no. I’m just starting my rounds for the day, but…”

“Hey, Jack. Keep your head up. I’m sure Calvin will present himself when it’s time.”

“I hope so, Alistair,” I said, nodding. “Speaking of, did you by chance get any information out of the staff?”

Hobbs rolled his head from side to side as it rested on the pillow. “Sorry, pal, but as soon as I brought up another patient, they shut me down pretty quick, telling me that information was only released to family members. I couldn’t even get anybody to confirm or deny that there was anyone named Calvin even admitted in the hospital.” Hobbs closed his eyes and took in several deep breaths.

“You doing okay, Alistair?” I asked. “You look a little out of sorts.”

“Hey, you know. One minute I feel like I’m doing better, then the next I feel like I might not make it to my afternoon sponge bath.”

“And still no word? Your collector hasn’t shown up yet?”

“Nope. The only ghost I can see or hear is you, my friend.” Hobbs winked and smiled.

“Well, I’m sure that you’re not in any rush to move on into the afterlife, but if I’m seeing you and talking to you, I’m sure your collector is on their way.”

I felt awkward talking to Hobbs about his imminent death, but when I first met him two weeks ago, he had fully accepted the fact that he was going to die. In fact, he practically welcomed it with open arms.

“Is there a number you can call or something? You know, and request some assistance for me?” Hobbs asked with a grin.

“Ha ha. If there is one, my trainer didn’t give it to me. But as soon as I see him, I’ll ask him about the hold up. I’ll make sure he comes to visit you right off. Deal?”

“Thank you, sir. It’s not like I’m dying to get out of this world,” he said with another wink and a chuckle, “but if it’ll help with this pain, I’m ready to go now.”

“Sounds good, Alistair. I’ll keep you in the loop. But for now, I’m gonna go take a walk through the emergency room. With any luck, maybe my Calvin is just checking in. If I don’t talk to you before, be sure to have a happy afterlife.”

Hobbs nodded his head, then closed his eyes to sleep.

Stepping back into the nurse’s galley, I decided to run by the patient board to see if any new names had been added. After a brief check, it appeared that someone had rewritten all the patients’ names, eliminating all the first names from the list. All that was left was their first initial. I scanned through the names, arriving at a new patient’s name that began with the letter C. A quick glance to the side and I found that he, or she, was in room 715. Without hesitation, I was off to look for Calvin.

“Please let it be,” I said. I needed to move on from this soul and get out of this hospital.

As I sped through the stark hallways, I glanced at the room numbers as they decreased in count. Even numbers on the left, odd numbers on the right. Room 721. Room 719. Room 717. Room 715. I stopped in front of the door and took a deep breath before lifting the medical chart off the wall. It was clearly a new patient, as nobody had written in the patient’s name on the board above the hook yet. As I flipped the aluminum cover open, my eyes darted to the top of the chart to the patient’s name. Charles Grafton.

“Crap.”

I slammed the medical chart shut and slapped it against the wall, barely catching the hook at the top. I felt like punching a wall.

“Dammit, Hauser. Why is this so difficult?” I said as I blasted out of the ICU wing and headed for the stairway.

“Hey, compadre. If you ask a question of me, you might want to stick around for the answer,” Hauser called out from behind me.

Chapter 2

Hauser’s voice halted my stride. I spun around and found him wearing a doctor’s coat and a stethoscope around his neck. He was leaning casually against the side wall. I stared at him incredulously.

“What?” Hauser asked. “Didn’t you just call out for me?”

Exasperated, I walked up to him, prepared to give him a piece of my mind. But before I could say a word, he threw his hands up in the air.

“Slow down there, Jack. You’re the one that wanted to do this collection alone. I only gave you the space that you asked for. Am I wrong?” Hauser said.

“I… uh… yeah. I guess I did. I just thought that after—”

“Don’t sweat it, kid. I get it. It’s easy to feel the way you did after the successful sidestep of collecting your last soul. I guess I’d be feeling pretty invincible myself. But I don’t think I would’ve handled it quite the same way as you.”

“What? The same way as me? All I did was ask for some leeway on this new soul box.”

“Yeah, I know. But it was the way that you asked for it. From the moment you got your new box, you started strutting around like you were omnipotent or something. I figured a little humble pie would do you well.”

I could feel my heart beat faster but suppressed the building anger quickly. As much as I hated to admit it, Hauser was right.

“Well? Are you here to help or are you going to just continue to criticize me?”

“That’s up to you, Jack. Do you want to carry on with training, like an adult, or do you want to hold on to your attitude?”

Goddammit, can’t he just let it go?

“Careful, Jack. Your thoughts are louder than you might imagine,” Hauser said.

Shit. “I mean, yes. I would like your help, and I will continue my training like an adult,” I said, fighting back my temper.

“Great. Why don’t you tell me what you’ve done up till now.”

“Well, not a lot. I have the soul box with only a first name on it. It etched itself on the box shortly before you took off. But you already knew that. Unfortunately, the last name has yet to engrave itself, and for the life of me, I cannot find a soul bearer with the first name of Calvin in the entire hospital. Are you sure we’re in the right place?”

Hauser’s brow tightened as he listened to my update. He nodded his head. “Trust me, Jack. If I said you’d find him here, then he’ll be here. Continue.”

“Continue with what? That’s it. I’ve been through the hospital more times than I can count, and I can’t find a Calvin anywhere. That’s what.”

“Well, first off, I believe you’re on the wrong floor.”

“I only come down to the emergency wing thinking that Calvin might be coming in through an ambulance. I’ve spent the majority of my time up on the seventh floor. There’s no Calvin there either. Trust me. I’ve looked.”

“Relax, Jack. I know you’re frustrated. I knew this would be a difficult collection from the very beginning.”

Not exactly listening to Hauser, I continued. “I really thought with a unique name like Calvin, this collection would be so much simpler than how it has played out.”

“Normally your process here would certainly produce desirable results. But for this soul, you might as well just throw all of that out the window.”

“I don’t follow,” I said.

“What I mean is that tracking down a soul by only the first name might be successful if the soul you were here to collect was actually inside a living person. Jack, the soul you are here to collect has not even been born yet. We need to go up to the second floor, to the maternity ward.”

“What the hell?” I snapped. “You knew this was going to be a newborn baby and you didn’t say a word?”

“Well, you did say you wanted to collect the soul on your own,” Hauser said with a smirk.

“Okay, okay. I get it. I messed up. I shouldn’t have gotten cocky. But how did you know?”

Hauser began walking toward the stairwell. “I knew because I’ve collected souls from newborn babies numerous times over the years. I knew from the moment the blank box first arrived. Then, when the first name etched in, I figured I’d let you run with it. With the first name provided, it should have been a lot easier than how it was for me.”

“Care to enlighten me?” I asked.

“The way I had it, I didn’t get a name on my first newborn box. You see, the parents I had refused to name their child until the moment it was born. So I had to sit around for seventy-two hours until the box finally engraved. Once it did, it was a matter of deduction that led me to the dying child.”

As we approached the stairwell door, we slowed our pace until the crowd around us dissipated. Once it was clear, Hauser blasted through the door and began the ascent to the second level.

“How’d you do that?” I asked. “Were you in a hospital? Or was this before hospitals were even invented?”

“Ha ha, smart ass. I’m old, but I’m not that old,” Hauser said. “Yes, much like you, I maintained my presence in a local hospital. And because of where my location was then, there weren’t very many births, so it was quite easy to locate.”

As we stepped out into the second-floor hallway, I tried to imagine what Hauser’s experience had been like.

“And that’s it? You walk into the room and snatch the soul from a crying baby?”

“Taking a soul is never easy, Jack. You know that now, right? Just because the baby has no previous life experiences doesn’t make it any easier.”

Awkwardly, we stood in front of the glass wall surrounding the nursery in silence. We looked upon a dozen clear bassinets, with an infant wearing either a pink or baby-blue knitted cap inside each.

“Well, I guess we can at least eliminate any of the pink hats,” I said. “But without a last name, how do we know which is the correct baby?”

Hauser pulled out his pocket watch and reviewed its face. A moment later he snapped it shut. “Well, none of these babies are your soul borrower. We’re still early, and your child has yet to be born. Until that happens, we’re going to have to do a little sleuthing in the matter.”

“Sleuthing?” I asked.

“That’s right, we’re going to have to do a room-by-room search. See if we can find any clues on who our mother-to-be is.”

“Don’t you think that’s what I’ve been doing for the last two weeks?”

“Obviously. But you were on the wrong floor entirely.”

“Yeah, yeah. So you keep reminding me,” I said. “So, wise sage, how do you propose that we proceed?”

“We’ll just have to go into each birthing room and see if there’s any indication on which mothers are having boys and then narrow it down from there. If there’s conversation in the room, we’ll listen for talk about baby names.”

I sighed louder than I expected to. Hauser looked at me sideways, cocking his brow in question.

“Don’t get me wrong, Hauser, but I almost prefer it to your old way.

“Boy, that’s the lazy way. Whether you like it or not, we’re going to do this. You need to learn to be proactive in these kinds of scenarios. And to make sure that you’re not phoning this in, we’re going to do this together.”

“Oh, joy,” I said as I pushed through the first door on my right.

Chapter 3

When I entered, I was surprised by the number of people that could actually fit in a room that was only fifteen foot square. Besides the mother-to-be, there must have been an additional dozen people waiting for the birth of the child. Fortunately, nobody paid any attention to me entering the room. Within seconds, Hauser materialized right next to me.

“You know, champ, you have certain skills that allow you to move about much more discreetly.”

I nodded my head in agreement. “Yeah, I wasn’t thinking when I pushed on the door. I’ll be more cautious in the future… oh wise one.”

Hauser winked and then moved through the crowd and stepped up to the bed. I followed, trying not to run into any of the people present.

“Well? Tell me what you see,” Hauser said.

I surveyed the room, noticing a plethora of teddy bears and balloons scattered about—gifts from loving family members, no doubt. As I glanced down at the mother-to-be, I noted that she looked to be in good spirits but wore an air of tiredness. The man standing next to her, his hand woven into hers, was presumably her husband. He looked equally exhausted. The remaining people, all extended family, most likely, gave me no indication.

“I, uh, without looking at the medical charts, I… I’m out.”

“What? You give up so easily?” Hauser said. “This one’s an ace. Do you see all of the gifts?”

I looked around, taking in the deluge of gift-shop balloons and stuffed animals once again. I shrugged.

“Tell me, Jack. Were you color-blind before you became a soul collector, or is this a recent condition?”

The moment Hauser mentioned color, it hit me. All the balloons were pink. The couple were having a girl. I shook my head in disappointment and vanished.

I appeared outside the next room and waited for Hauser. Within seconds, he appeared next to me.

“There are signs everywhere, Jack. All you have to do is pay attention.”

“Yeah, I’m not sure how I missed that one.”

I stepped toward the door, and as I reached for the handle, Hauser gripped my shoulder and pulled me back.

“You know, we really don’t have to go through each of these rooms when the medical chart is hanging right outside the door,” Hauser said as he nodded to the familiar aluminum clipboard hanging next to the doorway.

Pulling the chart from the wall, I flipped it open and scanned through the pertinent information. Inside, there was the mother’s and the father’s names, along with their relevant medical histories. About midway down the page, there was a notation about the sex of the child. A capital F was present. Without wasting another moment, I flipped the chart closed and reattached it to the hook.

“Next,” I said as I moved toward the next door.

Unfortunately, the next birthing room had no medical chart hanging outside, making our job slightly more difficult. I glanced at Hauser before raising my eyebrows and vanishing.

Popping into the room, we were met by a number of people. The pregnant woman in bed, her husband at her side, a slew of nurses, and a doctor sitting on a stool between the woman’s legs.

Before I could comprehend the situation, the birth was already happening.

“Okay, Wilma. Are you ready?”

Wilma leaned forward slightly, her cheeks covered in tears. She nodded, then gripped her husband’s hand. “I think so.”

“It’s time to push. Can you give me a solid effort?” asked the doctor.

In response, Wilma grunted and screamed as she pushed.

I glanced at Hauser, who was wide-eyed with anticipation. Personally, I had never witnessed a live birth in my life. And to tell the truth, the situation kind of gave me the willies. I thought back to my days in high school, when I’d freak out at the sight of blood. Now here I was at the precipice of life, and I wasn’t sure how I would react.

I moved to the side of the bed, opposite of Wilma’s husband, and looked toward the doctor. He was barely visible over the draped cloth covering Wilma’s legs. Hauser, on the other hand, was completely visible. He stood directly behind the doctor, hunched over and looking up into the birth canal.

“Are you kidding me?” I asked.

“What? I find this all very exciting,” he said.

“Okay then, any idea on the sex of this child? Is this something we really need to be sticking around for?” I pleaded.

“And miss the birth of a new life? No sir, I’m staying right here,” he said, refocusing his attention between Wilma’s legs.

I shook my head and looked around the room for any indication of gender. Unfortunately, the room was bare of any form of congratulatory paraphernalia. I did, however, locate the medical chart lying on the table next to the bed. I attempted to open it, at least to the first page, but as Wilma’s husband continued to look in my direction, the chart wouldn’t budge.

As I continued to search the room for a sign, any indication, the doctor continued to give instructions to Wilma and her husband. Hauser remained stationary behind the doctor. After surrendering to the fact that we would have to wait for the birth to occur, I moved to Hauser’s side to see exactly what had captured his interest.

“Huh, this… isn’t quite what I was expecting to see,” I said as I peered over the doctor’s shoulder.

“It’s not like the doctor’s performing some kind of a gruesome autopsy on the woman, Jack. He’s helping her bring new life into this world. I think it’s quite beautiful.”

Within moments I could see the crown of the baby’s head between Wilma’s legs. Centimeter by centimeter, the newborn squeezed through the birth canal, and suddenly a brand-new baby boy was out and alive. The doctor expertly received the child and swiftly laid it atop the mother’s stomach. Then, one of the nurses handed the doctor a number of medical instruments for him to clamp and sever the umbilical cord. A minute later another nurse scooped up the newborn and presented it to the parents.

“Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Coulter. I present you your son.”

Wilma took the quietly crying baby from the nurse and gently laid it across her chest. Then she looked up at her husband and said, “My God, honey. Isn’t he beautiful? What are we going to name him?”

The husband, who stood valiantly next to his wife, changed three shades of white. It was clear that he was overwhelmed with emotion.

“I think we should name him Neil, after your dad.”

“Yes. I’d like that. I only wish he was here to see this,” Wilma said between her own sobs of happiness.

Fighting back my own emotional outburst, I vanished from the room.

I popped back in the hallway right outside the most wonderful spectacle of life that I’d ever witnessed. I leaned against the wall and wiped my eyes dry before Hauser arrived.

“Wow. What a beautiful moment,” Hauser said, leaning against the wall next to me.

“Yeah, it was quite something.”

At that moment I knew, as sure as I’ve known anything else in my entire existence, I was not cut out for this job. How on earth was I going to be able to collect a soul from a newborn baby after witnessing that?

“I understand, kid, but it’s not our choice,” Hauser said, answering my thoughts.

“But how can you say that after what we just saw?” I asked, pushing myself away from the wall. I paced back and forth in front of Hauser before I continued. “I mean, that was… extraordinary.”

“I agree, Jack, but some things are out of our control.”

“Can’t we save him? Like I did with Noah? And like you’ve done numerous times in the past, on your own?”

Hauser fell into stride beside me and we continued walking down the hallway. “Listen, Jack. Just because you were able to make a change with Noah doesn’t mean that you can make a change for everyone. Not all souls can be saved. And trust me when I tell you this, some souls are better off dying.”

Hauser’s words stung like a swarm of bees. “How can you say that? Isn’t every life precious?”

“Well, according to you, only the good people should live and the bad people should die. Isn’t that what you tried to tell me just a couple weeks ago?”

“Jesus, Hauser, why do you always have to throw that shit back in my face? You know what I mean here. This child, this Calvin, hasn’t even had a chance to live and here we are, ready to take his soul without question. Don’t you think there’s something a little bit demented about that?”

“Relax, Jack. There are reasons why we do our job without question—”

“And I’m questioning it. I don’t think this is right, to take this life away from loving parents. Losing a child at birth is going to decimate their lives. And I won’t be any part of it.”

“Come now. Be reasonable about this—”

“No. I am being reasonable. I refuse to collect the soul,” I stated firmly and walked away. As I neared the adjacent corridor, I vanished.

Chapter 4

When I appeared at my bench, all I could think about was how unfair life really was. Over the years I’d heard from many people about the magic of childbirth. I’d heard about how wonderful and life-changing the event really was. But without ever experiencing it firsthand, I’d always assumed that those people were exaggerating greatly. Now, after witnessing just a single childbirth firsthand, I knew that assumption couldn’t be further from the truth. For as long as Cyndi and I had wanted children, I’d never really considered what it really was that we desired. I’d assumed what we wanted was something to love and raise as our own. Throughout all of those conversations with Cyndi, never once had I given thought to what it really meant to bring life into the world. Witnessing that childbirth would forever stain my mind. My soul. And if the Sentinel expected anything different from me, we were going to have a problem.

As I sat alone, contemplating the situation, Hauser appeared in front of me. He stood, his feet shoulder width apart and his hands on his hips. He glared down at me as a disappointed father might. I stared back and uncontrollably rolled my eyes.

“What’s going on, Jack?” Hauser asked. “One minute you’re fine, and then the next you storm off like a child that didn’t get his way.”

“Well I guess I didn’t really know what I was signing up for when I took Wilson’s soul. I’m sorry, but I never really asked for this.”

“No, I suppose you didn’t. But the fact of the matter is, you accepted Wilson’s offer, and according to the Sentinel you are expected to carry out that responsibility.” Hauser’s stare relented slightly as he sat down next to me. “What we have, Jack, is a responsibility. Yes, it’s a difficult proposition, but it really is quite spectacular, what we do. We’ve been given the opportunity to maintain the balance of humankind. Whether you see it like that or not is totally up to you.”

“But what about Noah? How was saving his soul even possible? How is that keeping the balance? You and I both know perfectly well that what I did there was the right thing to do.”

“Jack, I don’t know that. And how can you? For all we know, Noah might turn out to be wife-beating baby rapist—”

“Stop it. Just stop. Based on everything that we’ve witnessed so far in his life, I made the absolute right decision. And there’s nothing you can do to take that away from me.” I turned away from Hauser, hoping to screen my thoughts. Talking about Noah had brought up the thought of changing yet another soul’s future.

“Jack, you can’t. Just because you were able to save Noah does not entitle you to save every single soul that you come across. Sometimes, you just have to do your job—without question. You are not judge and jury, and neither am I. We cannot continue in this godlike way.”

Why does he keep telling me I’m trying to play God when all I want to do is save a soul, I wondered.

Why can’t he just get it through his thick head? This child’s soul is not worth the agony and potential sacrifice of something far greater. If he could just only understand that—

“How can you say that, Hauser? How can you say that his soul is not worth a damn?”

Hauser’s eyebrow arched slightly and he fidgeted nervously with his hands. “I’m sorry, Jack. I’m usually more in control of my thoughts. You were not meant to hear that. The good news is that it appears that you are developing your ability to read thoughts. Or is it all too late for that?”

“Hauser, there is no good news about this entire fucked-up situation. Having this new ability is not my consolation prize for having to take the soul of an innocent child.”

“No, I never said it was.”

“But you certainly implied it. And maybe it is too late. I’m not sure if I want to continue this… this heartless job.”

“What are you saying, Jack? Are you gonna quit on me?”

I rose up from the bench and stood directly in front of Hauser. I looked down on him blankly. “Yeah, I guess I’m done. This isn’t what I signed up for.”

“Well, sport I have news for you: you just can’t quit. You have an impending soul collection, and until that contract is filled, you’re on the clock.”

“Fine. If that’s the way it is, then so be it. I will just give my soul in place of Calvin’s. That way, everybody’s happy. I’ve saved a child’s soul, and I am no longer a pain in your side.”

Hauser laughed. “Jack, you surprise me. One moment you show utter brilliance and then the next you spew out shit like that. Think about it, man. You can’t give your soul away to an infant child that can’t even walk or talk yet.”

“Why does that matter? I’m allowing this baby to live.”

“Don’t be daft. You know very well that if you give your soul in his place, he will become the next soul collector. How can he do so if he can’t communicate with the dying people that he’s there to collect from? That’s not an acceptable option. Try again.”

“Well, then I guess we’re at an impasse. I’m not going to take his soul, and there’s nothing you can do to change my mind,” I said, sliding my hand into my pocket and gripping Calvin’s soul box firmly.

“Jack, I’m very disappointed in you. I had hoped that you would be able to see through this and move forward. But I see you’re not leaving me, or the Sentinel, any choice. Hand over the box and I will collect the soul myself. Meanwhile, you will have to report to the Sentinel for disciplinary action.” Hauser held his hand out expectantly.

I maintained the grip on my box and took a step backward. “There’s not a chance in hell that I give you this box,” I said.

Then I vanished.

Chapter 5

When I landed, I was not standing at the destination I had imagined. Instead I stood in a stairwell that twisted and curved up at a precarious angle. The passageway was tight, and the surface of the walls around me were equally bizarre. Having lived in New York for most of my life, it didn’t take me long to realize exactly where I stood.

I began to climb the worn steel treads up to the observation platform inside the head of the Statue of Liberty. I wasn’t too far off from where I’d imagined my destination to be. I’d initially thought about the immigration building on Ellis Island, which was a short five-minute ferry ride away. But as I weaved myself through the scattering of tourists trying to get a view of New York, I decided that this was actually a better destination after all.

As I leaned into the opening to catch a view of the city for myself, the voice behind me killed my buzz.

“You know, Jack, you can run, but you can’t hide,” Hauser said as he twirled his monocle around his finger.

“Jesus, Hauser. Why can’t you just let me be? I’ve already given you my decision. I quit.”

“That’s fine, pal. Just hand over the box and you can go on your merry way. I’m sure with your current mindset, Enoch can guide you the rest of the way,” Hauser blurted.

Startled at hearing the name from my dreams, I wondered what he meant by it.

“And like I said, nobody will be collecting Calvin’s soul. Not if I can stand it. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” I said before disappearing once again.

This time when I reappeared, I stood in front of one of the more than twenty entries leading into the grand bazaar in Istanbul, Turkey.

“Good luck finding me here, chump,” I said aloud. I took a few steps through the first entryway before I vanished once again.

I continued to jump and land at another of the dozen or so entries, pausing just long enough to leave a faint trace before landing at the center of the site. Where I stood, several hallways met beneath a white domed ceiling. As I gazed down each passageway, determining my best route out of the bazaar, Hauser’s familiar voice once again invaded my head.

“You know, I can do this all day long. Shall we just stop this nonsense?” he asked.

Overwhelmed with frustration, I squeezed my fists, driving my fingernails into the palms of my hands, before I vanished without another word.

I landed in the middle of the most tourist-laden place on earth—Times Square. From my vantage point, I could see no fewer than two Spidermen, one Batman, three Elmos, and one cowboy playing the guitar in his underwear. I smiled at the melting pot of oddity that was my hometown. Before Hauser could track my scent, I disappeared once again, and headed for another faraway land.

When I landed, I looked around at my surroundings, unsure of where I would be. I’d simply thought of an exotic location that I had not been to before. Who knew that the Parthenon in Athens, Greece, would be my destination? Without a second thought, I vanished from the base of the Parthenon and materialized at the tallest peak of the structure. I slowly eased myself down and sat with my legs dangling over the edge. From my new position, I could see the entire city of Athens, surrounded by water at the far reaches of my sight. As I took in the beautiful scenery, I wondered if Hauser would continue to follow me, and whether or not I would ever be able to escape his reach. As the seconds turned to minutes, I waited. I anticipated yet another interaction that I knew deep inside would be inevitable.

After fifteen minutes of solitude, I began to think that I might have actually done it. I’d finally gotten away from Hauser and his unreasonable expectations. Then, suddenly, I felt his presence.

“Are you kidding me?” I gasped.

Before Hauser had a chance to reply, I left Greece, my destination unknown.

I continued to jump and land at several nondescript locations in an effort to flee from Hauser’s grasp. Each new location was far from the last in both position and scenery. A cornfield in Illinois, a mountainside in the Andes, a city park in Paris. On what I hoped would be one of my final transports, I landed in the midst of thin, wintry air. All around me were great plains of ice. I took a moment to consider my latest destination and realized I should’ve grabbed a jacket first. If I planned to be in the Antarctic for any period of time, I would certainly freeze to death.

Before I could let that thought sink in, I began to jump from ice cliff to ice cliff. With each new jump, I came closer to the frigid oceans surrounding my location. Feeling fairly confident that I had eluded Hauser for the time being, I quickly jumped back to New York and into a department store to grab a parka before returning to the exact spot on the ice shelf to wait. I donned the coat, lowered myself down, and sat in silence. I was amazed at just how quiet it really was. I’d always imagined that a place such as this would be bombarded with windstorms whistling across the frozen ground.

As I waited, my mind returned to the maternity ward at the hospital. Seeing the complete and utter joy that had spread across Wilma and her husband’s faces would forever grip my soul. I knew it wasn’t their child that I was there to take, but I was certain that I would be destroying another couple’s happy future. I shook my head in disgust as the first bout of shivers rumbled through my body.

Then, suddenly, I was no longer alone. Feeling defeat once again, I looked over at Hauser. He sat next to me, also wearing a parka. How did he know he’d need a jacket?

“Just like you, kid, I landed and jumped back to grab a coat.”

I stared into his eyes, fixing my gaze sternly. “Please don’t make me do it, Hauser.”

“I’m sorry, kid. It’s out of my hands. If you just give me a moment to explain—”

“There are no words that you can say that will change my mind,” I said.

“It doesn’t have to be like that, Jack. If you would just come back to your senses, and away from this godforsaken wasteland, I’m sure that you’ll understand everything. But you just have to let me explain.”

I sat next to Hauser a moment longer before standing. I looked down at him, still sitting cross-legged at the edge of the cliff. “I don’t think so. I believe this will be the last time that we’ll talk for quite some time,” I said.

“Dammit, Jack would you just grow up,” Hauser said.

Without another word, I disappeared.

Chapter 6

Back in the city, I descended the grungy stairway into the subway. In all my years living here, I’d only used this form of public transportation a few times. Once, right after Cyndi and I moved into our first apartment, and I thought taking the subway to or from work made the most economical sense. Besides the overcrowded nature, it was the smell and the transient population that curbed my appeal.

The second adventure into the underground came after an out-of-control holiday office party, and was one of the most terrifying experiences of my life. Cyndi and I had been robbed at gunpoint at 1:30 in the morning. After making it out alive, we both vowed never to set foot in the godforsaken place ever again.

Now here I was, going against our agreement from years earlier. I smiled, feeling the irony of the situation. Cyndi and I had said that we’d never again venture into the subway as long as we both lived. Now she was dead and I was… sort of dead.

Hopping over the turnstile, I stepped up to the platform and waited patiently. Glancing at the train schedule as I passed through the entrance, I knew it wouldn’t be long. Within moments I heard the metallic clanking sound to my right as the train came to a halt directly in front of me. I stepped into the first car and quickly turned toward the door. I expected to see Hauser materialize any second, but he was nowhere in sight.

A minute later, the doors closed and the train lurched forward, causing me to stumble back. After regaining my balance, my equilibrium quickly agreed with the forward momentum of the train and I relaxed for the next five minutes. When I felt that we had traveled about halfway toward the next station, I thought about my next destination. A moment later I vanished.

I popped back into reality at the mouth of King’s Cross station. Having been to London numerous times, I was familiar with the tubes.

I rode down an exceedingly long escalator until I reached the landing below. I paused at a monitor displaying the route schedules and noted that a train would be arriving momentarily, but I’d have to hurry. I sprinted through the maze of tile-faced corridors until I arrived at my desired platform.

Having only briefly thought through my plan while I sat on that frigid ice shelf, I wondered if I was just wasting my time, or if jumping from a moving vehicle would actually help conceal my trail from Hauser’s monocle. I remembered him mentioning something about being able to track other soul collectors by the scent they left behind.

The sound of the approaching train grabbed my attention, and within moments I was onboard and sitting next to a man dressed in a pinstripe suit, reading a newspaper. The train was hurtling toward the next station. Again, once we’d traveled through the tunnels for ten or fifteen minutes, a sudden inspiration hit me like the train that I was on. I smiled as my next destination formed in my mind. A moment later I vanished.

I popped directly onto the platform in St. Pancras International Terminal, which just so happened to be the boarding station for the Eurostar. I’d read numerous times about the train and the construction of the Chunnel and felt that this final adventure would be the perfect crescendo in my evasion of Hauser.

As I moved through the crowd along the platform, I had a heightened awareness for Hauser’s presence. Realizing that spotting him in a crowd of so many people would be futile, I relaxed and stood alongside the multitude of people waiting to board the supersonic train to France.

Ten minutes later, boarding had completed and the train was about to depart. Not having a paid seat, I simply mingled about the cabin until all the passengers took their seats. As the train began to inch forward, I found a vacant seat on the aisle and sat down next to a woman, speaking what I believed to be French, on her cell phone.

As the time passed, so did the city. The congestion of row houses gave way to single, freestanding homes, which in turn gave way to farms and fields. An hour and a half later, the train dipped into the ground and began burrowing through the tunnel under the English Channel. After another thirty minutes, I felt confident that I had effectively eluded Hauser’s trace. I had a final destination in mind, but I wasn’t prepared to go there just yet. I had one last stop to make before I was confident that I’d avoided his monocle for good. A moment later I jumped from two hundred feet beneath the surface of the water to nearly a quarter mile above the city streets of New York.

I stood on the 102nd floor of the Empire State Building, the observation deck, and stepped outside. I’d visited the building numerous times through the years, having a great love of the height and view. I walked around the entire perimeter, pausing momentarily at each face to look out across the vast city. Even though I’d been up there a dozen times, the view from the top was still awe-inspiring.

After some time I found a vacant bench near the north entrance and sat. I wondered how long I should wait for Hauser before making my final move. Ten minutes? Half an hour? Longer? I had no idea. I waited until it felt right.

After nearly ninety minutes of people-watching, I was quite pleased that Hauser had not been able to follow me. I stood up and stretched before making one last lap around the observation deck. Satisfied that I wasn’t followed, I jumped to what would hopefully be my last destination for the foreseeable future.

Chapter 7

Many years had passed since I’d last stepped foot into the long-forgotten mountain cabin. When I was growing up, my dad and grandpa would take me up there to camp and fish almost every summer. After Granddad passed away, Dad and I sort of just stopped coming. Then, after my own father passed on, I got word that he’d left the two-hundred-acre mountain property to some nature conservatory with the express consent that no commercial development would ever occur on the parcel. He wanted it left as pristine and unabused as he’d found it years earlier. That had been twelve years ago, and I’d only taken Cyndi up to the cabin once to share some of my history with her. Because of my family, the conservatory manager granted me use of the place anytime I wanted, and assured me that because of the remote location, it remained virtually unchanged, following my dad’s request.

Now, as I stood on the front step, my heart pounded from the anxiety caused by the passage of time. Memories came flooding back as I lifted a rusted watering can from the windowsill and grabbed an old skeleton key. Sliding it into the keyhole, I hoped that the lock mechanism wasn’t decayed. I twisted the key gently yet firm enough to throw the tumblers. A second later there was an audible click. I returned the key to the window ledge and stepped inside.

As I looked about the one-room cabin, memories continued to flow. Dust and cobwebs covered nearly every inch of the inside, but I didn’t mind. I found a broom and dustpan in the pantry cabinet and got to work cleaning.

After an hour’s effort, I had removed most of the visible grime from the walls and ceilings and dusted everything as best I could. In the process, I reminisced about the numerous days that I’d spent there in my youth.

With the sun quickly plunging behind the adjacent mountain range, I decided a fire was in order. Even though I was mostly dead, I still got the occasional chills.

With relatively little effort, I had a fire roaring in the open fireplace, thanks to the extremely dry kindling I found in the corner. As I kneeled on the floor in front of the heat, I felt the bulge of Calvin’s soul box in my pocket. I withdrew it and turned the box over in my hands, wondering what I should do. The worst part about my decision was that I knew Hauser was right. I knew that neither he nor I had the right to decide who lives or who dies. I was playing God. But as these regretful thoughts spilled from my subconscious, images of the happy couple in the maternity ward crowded my mind’s eye. Confusion quickly turned to anger, and I threw the soul box into the fireplace.

“There. I guess I’ve answered that question,” I said as the flames flared high around the wooden box.

I moved away from the fire and settled into the dilapidated sofa at the side of the room. I extended my legs out to relax and stared at the amber glow. The longer I gazed at the dancing flames, the less aware I was of my surroundings. As time crawled along, so did the shadows across the floor. I retraced the events of my day, thinking about all the places that I’d visited in such haste. I quickly concluded that all of that jumping and landing really wore me out. Before I could stop myself, I was drifting to sleep.

The faint glow of the moonlight cast eerie shadows along the floor. I wondered how that could be as the room was fully lighted by multiple ceiling fixtures above.

“Quick, Jack. Take my hand,” Cyndi demanded as she closed her eyes tightly and gritted her teeth.

“It’s almost over, Cyn. Just another ten seconds,” I assured her.

She squeezed my hand tightly, cutting off the circulation to my fingers. I remained strong for her support, but the pain was nearly enough to make me cry out as well. Finally, with the contraction subsiding, Cyndi released her death grip and opened her eyes.

“My God, that one was the worst,” she said.

As if on cue, the doctor stepped into our birthing room and proceeded to hunker down between Cyndi’s legs to perform a cervical exam. Peeking over the bed cloth, his piercing eyes looked at me first and then at Cyndi. A sudden sense of familiarity came over me, but I couldn’t quite place where I had seen him before. Strangely, this was not our regular doctor, but I was not about to question it in the eleventh hour. I wanted the pain to go away for Cyndi. I wanted my new child.

“Your husband is quite right, Mrs. Duffy. It’s almost time, and it’ll be over quite soon, I assure you,” said the doctor.

“Do you hear that, sweetheart? We’re about ready,” I said as I leaned in and kissed her forehead. “Now, take my hand again, and squeeze as hard as you want. I’ll share your pain, because I love you.”

Cyndi’s weary eyes rolled back momentarily and she smiled. She took my hand and tugged on my arm slightly before replying, “I love you too, babe.”

“Well then, shall we begin?” asked the doctor. “I need you to push, Cyndi. And when I tell you, I need you to push hard.”

Cyndi pinched her eyes closed but nodded in agreement.

“Now, Cyndi, push for ten seconds.”

With a guttural squeal emanating from her lips, Cyndi followed the doctor’s instructions. After ten seconds, she released her downward pressure and breathed in and out, rhythmically, as we were taught in Lamaze class. After a short pause, the doctor spoke sternly.

“Push, Cyndi. Push now.”

Cyndi squeezed my hand and cried out in pain. She pushed hard, and within seconds, she exhaled loudly.

“Good job, but we’re not through yet. I need you to bear down once more, and push with all your might. I promise, Cyndi, this is it. The pain will be over shortly.”

Cyndi took in several deep breaths and pushed our baby into the world. Her final scream echoed through the room, then there was silence.

The silence was quickly replaced with the faint cries of the newborn baby in the doctor’s hands.

“Congratulations, Cyndi and Jack, you have a healthy baby boy,” the doctor said.

Tears of joy flowed from my eyes. I looked down at Cyndi. She cried as well, but for a much more painful reason.

“You did it, baby. You’ve given us a son,” I said and kissed her warmly.

A moment later, the doctor interrupted our embrace.

“Jack, I need the box. Could you hand it to me?” asked the doctor.

“Box? What do you mean? Didn’t you just tell me that he was healthy?”

The doctor sat up straight, still cradling our child in one arm, and removed a mask with his free hand. Instant recognition overcame me as I saw the face of Enoch Gant.

“What the hell?” I asked.

“I need your box, Jack. This soul needs to be collected, and a collection will be made.”

“I will not. Just hand me my son, and you can go to hell,” I said.

Enoch tilted his head back and laughed out loud. “The only way you’ll hold your son is after I’ve removed his soul.”

Cyndi’s cries turned in to screams of fear. I released her hand and took a step toward Enoch and our newborn son.

“Give me my son, dammit,” I demanded.

Enoch backed up slowly, turning our son toward us. Seeing him for the first time made my knees weak. I could see that he was warming up slowly, his flesh turning pink by the minute. He looked healthy. Normal. Then, he opened his eyes and stared directly at me. They were not baby blue as I expected, but were black, black as coal. A moment later the child smiled widely, opening his mouth and bearing a full rack of teeth, each one sharpened to a point. Suddenly the child began to giggle. Within seconds, the giggle turned into a full-on growling laugh. I jumped back, repulsed by what I saw. Enoch grinned at my reaction.

“You see, Jack, this baby is not yours. Never was. He’s a product of the devil, and your only option in the matter is to release his soul to me.” Then, both Enoch and the baby’s cackling laughs joined in unison, causing Cyndi and me to scream in terror.

I lurched forward, raising my hands and aiming for Enoch’s neck. Before I reached him, the room went dark.

I bolted upright, unaware of my surroundings. As my eyes focused on the slowly brightening room, I remembered that I was in the old family cabin. The fire had long since burned out, and the sun was peeking through the dirty windowpanes.

I stood and stretched for the ceiling, feeling the knots in my back groan in protest. Walking past the fireplace, I headed for the front door to introduce fresh air into the musty cabin. As my hand grasped the door handle, my mind slipped back to what I had just seen. I whipped around quickly and darted for the fireplace. Inside the burnt ash sat Calvin’s soul box, completely intact. I grabbed it, noticing absolutely no blemishes on the surface of the collection chamber.

“Son of a bitch,” I said. My mind raced at how else I could destroy the box. I rushed to the closet and rummaged through an old wooden toolbox until I found what I was looking for. I retrieved a five-pound sledgehammer from the very bottom of the box and grinned as I hoisted it from its resting place. Returning to the kitchen, I placed the soul box on the butcher-block counter and raised the sledge above my head. With all my might, I brought the head of the hammer down as hard as I could, driving it into the top of the soul box. The painful sensation that shot up through my arm and into my shoulder caused me to cry out.

“AHHH!”

As I regained my composure, I picked up the dropped hammer and laid it on the countertop next to the box. The undamaged box.

“Well, this might be more difficult than it seems,” I said. At that moment, my next brilliant idea hit me like a ton of bricks. I returned to the closet and retrieved a spool of bailing wire. I rushed back to the counter and slowly, methodically, wrapped wire around the box and the handle of the sledge. Once that was complete, I gleefully grabbed the handle of the hammer and walked out the door.

Once outside, I headed around the cabin and ducked into the forest. A well-worn trail led from the clearing around the cabin, and if my memory served me well, would open up at Lake Sweeny, a small nature pond that was a long-lost secret in these parts.

The hike was just what I needed. I remembered the stroll through the forest taking ten or fifteen minutes in the past. But as the trail faded in and out from lack of use, I was led astray a number of times. Twenty minutes later, I finally found my destination.

The spring-fed lake was calm and still at this early morning hour. The occasional ripples caused by jumping fish in the distance were the only things that broke the mirrorlike finish of the surface. I contemplated dragging the old canoe from the shed but wasn’t sure about its ability to float after so many years. I decided that I would rather test my arm strength than my sink rate.

I walked out onto the dock until I reached the edge. I stopped and looked around at the beautiful scenery. On all sides of the lake, dark green pine trees sprang from the edge, creating the perfect secluded fishing hole.

“Here goes nothing,” I said. I began to swing the hammer like a pendulum, forward and backward then forward again. After a few practice swings, I released the hammer with the soul box tightly attached to it. It flew through the air gracefully.

Kerplunk! The water splashed several feet into the air, and then calm once again returned to the lake surface.

I turned and smiled. In fact, I smiled all the way back to the cabin.

Fifteen minutes later, I stepped out from the canopy cover of the surrounding forest. I paused momentarily as I noticed the old wood shed off to the side. Even though I didn’t need to eat or drink, I had the sudden urge to fry up a beautiful lake trout for lunch. Stopping at the shed, I rummaged through the dozen or so fishing poles in the corner until I found my old favorite spinner reel. I grabbed the old tackle box and headed for the cabin to sort out the condition of the fishing gear inside.

As I stepped into the cabin, my eyes locked like a magnet onto the soul box sitting on the countertop.

“What the—” I blurted.

“You don’t think you can shrug your responsibilities that easy, do you?” Hauser asked.

Chapter 8

“How’d you find me?” I asked, trying to hide my surprise.

Hauser smiled, then pulled out a pair of vintage wire-rimmed glasses and slid them on his face. “What do you think? Does it make me look… distinguished?” he asked.

I shrugged and avoided looking at him directly. I moved to the countertop and began untying Calvin’s soul box from the sledgehammer.

“What? No comment about my new spectacles?”

“Okay, yes. You look very distinguished with your new glasses, Hauser,” I said in a monotone voice. “I suppose you’ve had those this whole time.”

“Nope. I actually have you to thank for these. If it wasn’t for your little tantrum yesterday, I’m not sure when the Sentinel would’ve actually handed them out.”

“Wait, what? You just got them?”

“Yep,” Hauser said as he folded them and put them back in his pocket. “The latest and greatest from the masterful wizards that create useful things. They allow me, or whoever is wearing them, to see any active soul collector in the world. Pretty slick, huh?”

“Yeah, slick. So how does it work? You go up there, or wherever it is that you go to meet them, and tell them you have a problem, and they drop everything they’re doing to create this new gizmo for you to, what? Become the bounty hunter of the afterworld?”

“No, not quite. I had this latest piece of hardware within an hour of you ditching me yesterday. I guess they’d had them ready for some time and were waiting for the right opportunity to release them into the collector circulation.”

“I’m confused. Why’d it take you nearly a full day to come find me? If you’ve had a way to see where I was this whole time, why wait until today?”

“Well, buddy, after you lost me in the tubes of London—which I have to give you kudos for being very creative—I had a moment of clarity. I thought back to when I first became a collector, and how I struggled with the conflicting emotions battling inside me. I figured with the extraordinary training that you’ve already been through, you were bound to snap.”

“Listen, I didn’t snap,” I argued. “I’m just not… willing to blindly collect random souls, when you and I both know that there is a better way.”

Hauser nodded in agreement. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right, Jack. That’s why I gave you some space. I needed you to find clarity on your own before I came to drag you back, kicking and screaming, if that’s what it takes,” Hauser winked.

“Why are you being so nice?” I asked. “You said it yourself that I’ve been a major pain in your ass through my entire training. And in your eyes, I threw this major tantrum, which we’ll just have to agree to disagree about—”

“No, you threw a tantrum. There’s no question,” Hauser said with a smirk.

“Yeah, whatever. We all can’t be as perfect as you at being an emotionless human, now can we?”

Hauser’s winced slightly, then looked at his watch before stowing it back into his pocket. “Why don’t you have a seat, champ. I see a lot of promise in you, and if sharing some of my past strengthens your ability, then I’m willing if you are.”

Surprised at Hauser’s sudden openness to share, I nodded and eased myself down into the lumpy couch.

Chapter 9

Hauser pulled up a wooden chair from the kitchen table and sat down across from me. He crossed one leg over the other and briefly fidgeted with his hands in his lap, clearly showing signs of trepidation. He stared off into space, as if looking for an invisible solution to his problem.

“You’re only partly correct, Jack. I have far more emotion than I seem to let on. That’s partly a carryover from my previous life.” Hauser paused, folding his arms in front of his chest, then he looked directly at me.

“What I’m about to tell you is something that I am not at all proud of.”

“If it’s any consolation, I’m the last person in this world to judge,” I said.

Hauser smiled. “Let’s talk after you hear what I’m about to tell you. Before I became a collector, I was… a very bad man. I worked, if you would like to call it that, as an assassin… for Napoleon.”

I inhaled sharply.

“See?” Hauser said. “It was shortly after the French Revolutionary Wars, and although a treaty was in place, the Napoleonic Wars were just getting started. I will not be in any history books. I was a… secret to Napoleon himself. At his charge I traveled through France, killing any and all British soldiers I came across, along with any French sympathizers for the British cause.”

Hauser stopped and stood. He slowly paced around the small, musty cabin, almost as if he was looking for something. He opened all of the kitchen cabinets, finally reaching high on the top shelf and fumbling about with its contents. A moment later he withdrew a dingy bottle with a dark liquid inside. He removed the cork and brought the bottle to his lips. Tilting his head back, he poured half of the amber liquid down his throat.

“Whoa! That’s got a kick,” Hauser said as he offered the bottle of bourbon to me.

Nervously, I accepted the bottle and took a swallow. The phenolic sting glided down my throat and warmed me instantly. I handed the bottle back to Hauser, and he recorked it before returning to his chair.

“All in all, I killed nearly a thousand soldiers and innocent civilians between the years 1809 and 1811.”

I gasped, much louder than I expected. I was speechless, but my mind was in overdrive, wondering what all that killing would do to a person’s psyche. I couldn’t imagine what Hauser had to cope with over the centuries, when here I was, unable to take a single soul from an unborn child.

“Sometime in the middle of 1811, Napoleon was beginning to lose his control. His victories in battle were becoming fewer and farther between. His defeats were increasing by the number. He began to lose focus at what he was fighting for, and I was eliminated.”

“You mean, you were the reason for the decline of Napoleon?” I asked.

Hauser shrugged. “If you asked Napoleon at the time, that’s precisely what he’d say. I was his scapegoat.”

“So how did it happen?” I asked.

“How my life ended is not important. What came next is.” Hauser remained seated as he uncorked the bottle and finished off the remaining bourbon in one long draw. “Sorry, kid. There’s none left for you.”

“No worries,” I said. “I’m more of a Scotch guy anyway.”

“Before I was killed, I suffered through four days of horrific torture at the hands of Napoleon himself. In between sessions I drifted in and out of consciousness. I struggled to maintain clarity on what was real and what were hallucinations. At one point, two men came into my cell and told me that they were there to collect my soul. I was sure at the time that they were simply hallucinations caused by the various concoctions given to me by Napoleon or his guards. I was further convinced they were hallucinations when they offered me to live beyond my death. They promised me a long life if I agreed to become a soul collector myself.”

“So they recruited you?” I asked.

“Yep. After a few more encounters with the two gentlemen, it became clear that they in fact were real, and I wasn’t conjuring them up as a form of mental escape. I listened to everything they had to say and figured that I had nothing to lose.”

“If you’ve committed all of those murders, why did the Sentinel want you? Wouldn’t they want to cleanse your soul of all its evil?”

“It was precisely because of all of those murders that they wanted me. They saw me as an emotionless individual and felt that having the ability to collect a soul regardless of how I felt about human life was an attribute they desired.”

I was beginning to understand more about life and death and everything in between. “Then I might be a liability to the Sentinel.”

Hauser nodded. “You might be, Jack. But a man can change.”

“But I don’t want to change, Hauser. I like caring for humankind. I can’t become like you, an emotionless killer.

Hauser nodded. “Toward the end of my tenure as Napoleon’s personal assassin, I began to grow a conscience. Something happened in the last year of my life that I can’t quite put a finger on. I began to feel. I started letting people go that I was sent to kill. The feeling that flowed inside of me with each life that I saved was far more rewarding than that when I took a life. When the two collectors were sent for my soul, I knew I had an opportunity for redemption.”

“So why did they send two collectors for you? Were they afraid that you might not come quietly?” I asked

Hauser chuckled. “No, not quite. One of the two collectors was retiring, and the other man would became my trainer.”

I wasn’t sure if it was the shot of bourbon that I had taken or if it was hearing everything that Hauser had just revealed, but I began to feel lightheaded.

“I know exactly how you feel, buddy,” Hauser said, tossing the empty bottle into the fireplace, the glass exploding upon impact.

For several moments Hauser and I stared at the settling ash in silence.

“So is your trainer still around?”

Hauser’s hands returned to his lap, once again fidgeting nervously. “Yes, and no.”

“I don’t understand. Do you know or not?”

“The man who trained me was Enoch Gant.”

Chapter 10

“Holy shit,” I exclaimed. “The same Enoch from my dreams?”

“The very one,” Hauser said. “At the time, Enoch was the Sentinel’s head trainer. He was the best at what he did, and he knew more about our line of work than anyone else… including most of the Sentinel’s council. He, like myself, was quite young when the Sentinel brought him on. Also, like myself at the time, he had been a cold-blooded killer. Then, a few months after my training was complete, Enoch went rogue.”

“Rogue? You mean he quit? Like me?”

“Not at all the same, Jack. The reasons for your resignation were righteous. Enoch became power hungry. He saw the potential in life, and death, and took it upon himself to live a different path on the run.”

“And the Sentinel can’t locate him? Maybe he died.”

“He’s believed to be alive, but unfortunately, the Sentinel has no way of locating him.”

“What about your new spectacles? You were able to find me pretty easily.”

“It’s ironic that you bring up the glasses. You see, the Sentinel has been trying to develop an item that might have the ability to locate Enoch Gant. In fact, that whole R&D department, as you appropriately coined it earlier, was established with the sole purpose of locating Enoch. This latest item,” Hauser said as he tapped his pocket where the glasses resided, “tracks any soul box. But Enoch is without a box in his possession.”

“How did he—I mean, how did he—”

“Exactly. We don’t know how he eliminated his last soul collection chamber. It happened so long ago that we don’t even know where to look.”

“Wow. You’re really blowing my mind, Hauser. First you tell me you were a mass killer, and now you tell me that Enoch Gant, a man from my dreams, is real and is a wanted felon in the afterlife. What next? Are you going to tell me that God isn’t real?”

“First off, God is in all of us. He is as real as the day is long.”

“So God is a he, then?” I asked.

Hauser chuckled again. “God is neither he nor she. And both at the same time. He, or she, just is.”

“Wow, thanks. Thanks for clearing that up for me,” I smiled.

“As for my regrettable past, I continue, every day, to try to right the wrongs that I’ve done.”

“Then why not let me save Calvin? He’s an innocent child that could have a bright future.”

“Like I said, Jack, not all souls can be saved.”

“So you keep saying. Why is it that we can’t save Calvin?”

“Because, Calvin will be born with a disease that will take him moments after birth. There is no cure for what he’ll have, and if we were to allow him to live, his burden would far outweigh the sacrifice.”

“My God, I had no idea. Why didn’t you—hold on… wait a minute. How did you know, and why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you’re in training, and I was trying to teach you patience and self-reliance. Also, the Sentinel believes that limited knowledge is best, in most circumstances. The council knows nearly every specific detail of literally every impending death in the pipeline.”

“Then why not let us soul collectors in on that knowledge? It would make this whole job a lot easier, right?”

“One would think, champ. All I know is that the Sentinel has their reasons. I learned a long time ago to not question a lot of their mysterious ways. It’s taken me centuries to gain their trust, and that means something.”

“Well, I do apologize. You have certainly taught me a little humility after all.”

“And for what it’s worth, I was going to let you know earlier on, but then you threw your little hissy fit and didn’t give me a chance.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about all that too,” I said, dipping my head low to hide my embarrassment.

“So, are you ready to return to your obligation now?” Hauser asked.

“I am. But I have one more question first.”

“Just one? Shoot.”

“How is it that Enoch continues to invade my dreams?”

“Have you had another dream?” Hauser asked, clearly disappointed at my choice of sleeping again.

“Yeah, after all of that jumping around yesterday, I fell asleep in front of the fire,” I said apologetically.

“Understandable,” Hauser said. “When Enoch disappeared, he took with him all of the tools of the trade that he had with him. There was one item in particular that the Sentinel wants back like no other. It is a device that allows him to enter the mind of anyone that he chooses. Alive or dying. That’s how he’s able to exist in your dreams.”

“Oh my. And there’s no way to turn it off, or deactivate the device?”

“The powers that be are working on that very thing. But they’ve had no luck. So we’re all encouraged not to sleep until Enoch is captured and the device is returned or destroyed.”

A moment later, Hauser stood and returned his chair to the kitchen table. When he turned toward me, he glanced around and said, “You know, this place is very similar to my own humble abode. I’ll have to show it to you sometime. I think you’d like it.”

A moment later we vanished from the cabin.

Chapter 11

Hauser and I arrived in the maternity ward, very near where we’d last visited.

“You know, we still have the problem of only having a first name,” I said.

“Well, Jack, we never really had a problem with that. I have a… gadget—”

“Of course you do. And where was this gadget earlier?” I asked.

“Training, compadre. I had to make you work for some of this. But now we might be cutting it close.” Hauser pulled out his pocket watch and flipped open the cover. He held it out in front of us. On the face were several lighted dots. Some were brighter than others, while some flashed on and off.

“Okay, what does this do?”

“Each dot represents an impending collection. The brighter the dot is, the closer to its collection event. The closer the dot is to the center of the dial, the nearer we are in proximity to that soul,” Hauser explained.

I pointed at one of the flashing dots. “And what about the dots that won’t stay lit?” I asked.

“Those souls are still in flux. Those are… how can I say this? They still have options at life.”

“What? So not every soul will be collected?”

Hauser cringed at my question. “Yeah, I knew this would come up at some point. Besides our own ability to deviate from filling individual boxes, with extreme prejudice I might add, some souls might continue living their lives.”

“And who makes that determination?” I asked.

“Neither you nor I have any control of those souls. They are simply undecided—a decision based on the individual at the time of death, or impending death, rather. Take your soul, for example. If I’d been your soul collector, your soul would have flashed the majority of the day leading up to your collection. Suicide is the biggest unknown in our profession.”

Being reminded of my selfish act once again, I lowered my head in disgrace. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.”

Wanting to change the subject, I took Hauser’s watch and held it at arm’s length as I slowly spun around. “It looks like there is a soul that is bright and close to the center,” I said. I turned toward the long hallway. “And it appears to be just up ahead.” I handed the pocket watch back to Hauser, who verified my assumption.

“Lead the way, Skipper,” Hauser said, handing the watch back to me once again.

I walked down the hallway slowly, holding the open pocket watch out in front of us. Like Hauser said, the closer we got to the soul, the brighter the dot became, and all the other souls on the dial began to slide off the edge. It was as if the radar was zooming in to the soul the closer we got to it. When the soul was practically at the center of the dial, we stopped. I gradually swung my arm around in an arc. As I did so, the dot near the center circled around the dial, returning back to the center as I faced room 228.

“I think he’s in here,” I said.

I stepped toward the door and reviewed the medical chart hanging just outside. The name on the chart was Penelope Rose, and the baby’s gender was male. I sighed and stepped into the room.

Once inside, it was clear that we were not in an ordinary birthing room. It was far more sterile and bland compared to the soothing colors and comfort level of the previous birthing rooms. Besides Hauser and me, the mother, Penelope, was alone. As we neared the edge of the bed, her face came into view. It was contorted, as if she’d been suffering the pains of contractions. Her eyes were closed and her entire face perspired.

“Well, no birth yet,” I said to Hauser.

A second later Penelope opened her eyes and stared directly at me. “What, what did you just say?” she asked.

I was shocked to hear her address me and quickly glanced at Hauser for direction. He promptly pulled out his pocket watch to review, then shrugged but said nothing.

“I am… sorry, but you can hear me?”

“Of course I can fucking hear you. You’re standing right next to me,” she snapped angrily.

“I… I’m sorry, I thought I was… speaking in a quieter tone,” I lied.

“Well, either speak up or get out!” she bellowed.

“I apologize,” Hauser said. “We’re just making rounds, and my colleague here was expecting a birth in this room any moment.”

“Well, do you see a goddamn baby?”

“No, you’re quite right. Please forgive the intrusion,” Hauser said as he tugged on my arm to retreat.

As we approached the door, a doctor and several nurses walked in. One of the nurses stepped up to Penelope’s bedside and began to review her vital statistics. Meanwhile, the doctor wheeled up a small stool at the foot of the bed.

“And how are we doing today, Penelope?” The doctor asked.

“How the hell do you think I’m doing?” she barked. “I’m nine months pregnant and in pain.”

The doctor smiled briefly before continuing. “Well, let’s see if we can fix that, shall we? Let me check your dilation and see where we stand.” The doctor lifted the end of the bedsheet and slid his gloved hand beneath. As he reached deep under the covers, Penelope squirmed uncomfortably. A moment later the doctor withdrew.

“Well, unfortunately, your dilation has stalled. Right now our only viable option is to perform a Cesarean section. Are you familiar with the procedure?”

Hauser and I remained at the edge of the room, just out of Penelope’s sight. Hauser withdrew his pocket watch and reviewed its face. A look of confusion filled his eyes as he tilted the dial to me. At the center of the watch, there were two distinct glowing dots. One burned solid, while the other flashed on and off. I looked at Hauser and raised an eyebrow. He returned my quizzical look and repocketed his watch.

As the doctor explained the surgical procedure to Penelope, she began to cry. He tried to soothe her, assuring her that although it was not common practice, it does happen in about thirty percent of all childbirths, and that she would be awake for the entire procedure. Penelope nodded slowly.

“If you’d like, your spouse can still be in the operating room for the birth,” said the doctor.

“No. There is no father. It’s just me,” Penelope said softly.

“All right then. Nurse Perry here will prep you, then wheel you down to the OR.” Hauser and I jumped into the corridor before the doctor made his exit.

“Well, how fortunate for us,” Hauser said.

“How do you mean?”

“The C-section will make this soul collection much easier on everyone. Because Penelope will be on some fairly heavy anesthesia, she’ll be slower to react to the death of her child than if she gave birth naturally.”

“That makes sense, but how does that make it easier on us? We’re still collecting the soul from a newborn baby.”

“Unfortunately, that’s unavoidable, but it will make it easier on us not having to witness the mom react as emotionally, otherwise.”

I nodded. “I guess you have a point there.”

“Now let’s go find some scrubs so we can blend in while in the operating room. If Penelope is in flux, we don’t necessarily want to alarm her by being the only two plainclothed men in the OR.”

Chapter 12

We had little difficulty finding the supply room, but the procedure was still halfway done by the time Hauser and I entered the operating room. Penelope lay with her head away from the door, an anesthesiologist right next to her ear. Penelope’s arm was extended out to the side and was strapped to a padded board. Multiple IVs were taped along her arm. She was awake but groggy.

On either side of her abdomen stood a doctor and a nurse. As Hauser and I approached, I mistakenly glanced down at the point of incision and nearly lost my lunch. Sitting on top of her chest were half of Penelope’s internal organs. Having never witnessed an open operation before, I felt a little light headed. Instinctively, I turned my back to the doctor and focused on Penelope’s face. Otherwise I was certain to pass out.

If it wasn’t for the mask covering Hauser’s face, I would have sworn he was grinning at my wooziness.

I looked down at Penelope, and she returned my gaze. She blinked her eyes slowly then shifted her focus to Hauser before returning them back to me. I nodded reassuringly, and she smiled. Quite the contrast to her behavior earlier.

Moments later, the doctor spoke. “Penelope? Can you hear me?”

“Yyyess,” she slurred.

“Congratulations, Penelope, you have a son. Have you selected a name yet?” asked the doctor.

Maintaining my focus on Penelope, she nodded her head almost imperceptibly. “B-B-Blake,” Penelope stuttered.

As the nurse took the baby to the cleanup station at the side of the room, panic engulfed me. I quickly withdrew the soul box to read the name. Blake was not on the box. Calvin still was engraved clearly. As I showed the box to Hauser, he once again retrieved his pocket watch, flipping it open for both of us to see. It was apparent that the soul to be collected just moved to the far side of the room. A dot still flashed at Penelope’s location.

“W-wait,” she protested. “C-Calvin. Don’t take my Calvin away,” she cried, looking me in the face.

Hauser motioned me toward the faintly crying baby with his eyes. He nodded, then stepped between Penelope and the warming table, blocking her view.

As I approached the nurse attending to the newborn, I saw that she’d already cleaned the birth residue from his body. As he lay there, he squirmed slightly but was quite lethargic. A moment later, his body stopped moving completely, as his pink skin began to fade. The nurse began several resuscitation procedures, but there was no change. Calvin was unresponsive.

“Doctor? We have a problem. He’s stopped breathing,” the nurse said calmly.

The doctor rushed over and tried to revive the baby. After several minutes attempting to bring life back to the newborn, he dropped his head low and shook it. “Dammit,” he cried.

A moment later a faint wisp exited the baby’s mouth. I quickly retrieved my soul box and captured Calvin’s soul. Forgoing the cleanse for the moment, I slipped the box back into my pocket.

When I returned to Penelope’s side, Hauser looked at me expectantly. I nodded and patted my pocket. I then looked down at Penelope’s tear-streaked face with a heavy heart. She was still groggy, but she was very aware of our presence.

“I am so sorry for your loss. I wish there was another way,” I said.

Penelope nodded almost imperceptibly then closed her eyes tightly and sobbed.

Hauser and I disappeared a moment later.

Chapter 13

Back at my park bench, Hauser and I stood in silence for a moment.

“What the hell?” I asked.

“My sentiments exactly,” Hauser replied.

“What just happened? I mean, we’re not supposed to be able to be seen or heard by anyone living, right?” I asked.

“Yes, that’s right. Unless the soul is in flux. But usually those situations act more like a living being than one that is about to die. They still shouldn’t be able to see us until death is absolute or imminent.” Hauser scratched his head in contemplation. Then his eyes brightened up instantly. “Quickly, Jack. Cleanse the soul and get your new box. Maybe Penelope’s soul will be next.”

I brought the box to my lips and inhaled sharply. A second later the box disappeared. Then, surprising both Hauser and me, two boxes appeared in its place. I looked at Hauser, whose eyebrows raised nearly off his head.

“Well, champ. It looks like you’ve graduated. You’ve got your first double collection from the Sentinel.”

“But wasn’t Abigail and Raymond a double collection?” I asked.

“Not exactly. Yes, they happened in quick succession, but were two separate collections. Usually when there is a double collection like you have now, the circumstances are quite different. The deaths will be nearly instantaneous.”

“Like from an accident?”

“Typically, yes. That’s how most multiple deaths occur,” Hauser said slowly. “Unless… unless it is—well, never mind.”

“Go on?” I urged.

“Unless there’s some kind of catastrophe that causes multiple deaths instantaneously. Tell me, Jack, who are the two names on your boxes?”

I twisted the boxes in my hands until the names were clear to me. “Luke Holloway and Meghan Sharp.”

“Well, neither of them are the baby’s mother, so I’m not sure what that’s about. Why don’t you start tracking down your new marks, and I’ll go find out what’s up with Penelope’s fluxing soul.”

“Yeah, sure. But, before you go, what about—”

“Don’t worry about it, kid. Your little temper tantrum earlier is water under the bridge. If the Sentinel really accepted your resignation, they would not have given you another soul box, let alone two at the same time. Let’s just try and stay on target from here on out, agreed?”

Strangely, a wave of relief overpowered me. Part of me really wanted to be done with this godforsaken job. But at the same time, I felt at home. I felt right, like I was in the right place at the right time, doing the right thing.

“Sounds good, Hauser. I’ll try and do my best.”

“I know you will,” Hauser said. “Now, if’ you’ll excuse me, I need to—”

“Wait! I almost forgot.”

“I know, kid. Alistair Hobbs. I’ve got somebody working on him as we speak. Remember,” Hauser said as he dangled his pocket watch between his fingers, “I’m all knowing.” Then he winked, turned, and vanished.

I leaned back on the bench that had been my safety zone for the past six months. Although the location was centrally located, I realized that in order for me to truly move on, I’d have to leave the city entirely. And walking away from the park bench was the first step.

I stood up and took in the cozy park and its unassuming surroundings one last time. “Good-bye, Wilson,” I said, wondering if he could hear me from wherever he was now. “Thanks for… everything, I guess. But I think I’m going to find my own way now.”

I turned and walked down the sidewalk, trying to decide whether to begin tracking down the borrowers of my next two souls, or jump to my cabin in the woods. My home.

A moment later, I vanished.