The Borrowed Souls: A Novel

by Paul B. Kohler

  Before Noah could say another word, Ashley’s hand disappeared beneath the bedsheets, causing Noah to moan slightly.

  “Are you serious?” I asked. “First I have to wait for you to die, and now you are going to make love to your wife right in front of me?”

  Noah didn’t answer my sarcasm but instead leaned into Ashley and kissed her passionately. The kiss only lasted a moment though, as Ashley slid herself beneath the sheets, causing more moaning from Noah.

  “Nope. I’m outta here,” I grumbled before disappearing from the bedroom corner.

  Having improved on my ability to jump from place to place, I popped into Noah’s living room, just on the other side of their bedroom wall. I wasn’t a stranger to watching the occasional porn video, but that was back when I had the ability to release with Cyndi. Now that I was forever in detached solitude, I didn’t need to get all dressed up with no place to go, so to speak.

  As I paced around the apartment, I hoped that their impromptu act of love making would be quick so that I might be able to move on with my job. I was discovering that the more I followed Noah and his family around, the more I liked the guy. He was a good husband, and he was living it right. I knew now what Hauser meant about becoming too attached, and my only hope was that it wasn’t too late.

  Moving into the kitchen, I noticed 6:12 a.m. glowing on the microwave’s digital readout. “How long am I going to have to wait?” I asked. To my surprise I heard a whimper from just down the hall. In the otherwise silent house, it sounded like a trapped animal calling out for attention. Quietly, I crept down the hall toward the sound. Just past the powder room I came to a closed door. As I stood just outside, I listened intently at the noise. The whimpering came and went, and even though I’d never been around puppies growing up, I recognized the sound instantly.

  After following Noah around for so many weeks, I knew the dog was a new addition. Deciding that it was far too early for anyone else to be awake, I stepped into the room to see the puppy for myself. The room was dark, but the early sunrise cast in just enough light, revealing the compact laundry room.

  Closing the door behind me, I turned and looked around for the source of the crying. In just a few moments, I found the crate that the pooch was penned up in. As I leaned in close to the wire-framed cage door, I found two dark eyes looking back at me. They belonged to what looked like a beagle puppy, and strangely, I sensed that the dog could see me.

  “Hey, buddy,” I said. “You’re new around here, aren’t you?”

  As soon as I muttered those words, the puppy began to bark and yelp. It was clear that he was aware of my presence and he was not happy, either about being locked up or about seeing a strange person just outside his cage.

  “Hush, now. It’ll be all right,” I said as I quickly unlatched the cage door, freeing the black-and-brown spotted puppy.

  The moment he was out of the cage, he rushed between my legs and began to scratch at the door that led to the rest of the apartment.

  “Come here, you little shit,” I hollered, but the dog ignored me. I wondered if I was initially mistaken and he actually couldn’t see me after all.

  I stepped back, flipped on the light switch, and fully took in my surroundings. I noticed that the puppy was in fact a beagle. And now that I could see him more clearly, he looked to be maybe a few months old.

  “Come here, pup,” I said as I knelt down in the middle of the room. I remained still for several minutes before the he turned and looked in my direction. “Come on,” I said as I patted my leg.

  Like a bolt of lightning, the puppy shot forward and tried to jump up and nip at my face, barking and howling the whole while.

  “Hush, now. You’re gonna wake the family,” I said, hoping it wasn’t already too late. I grabbed him, shuttled him back into his sleeping crate, and relatched the door. The howling didn’t subside though, and I knew it would only be a matter of moments before someone would come barging in to check on the little guy.

  I stood up quickly and leaped for the light switch. No sooner had I done so I heard the floor creak just outside in the hallway. I sprang back from the door just as Katie, Noah’s daughter, burst into the room, followed closely by Tim, Noah’s son.

  I wasn’t sure how our bodies would interact in such close quarters, so I froze. After a quick moment, I changed my stance. I didn’t want to cause the two kids to accidentally bump into an invisible being, so I climbed up on the countertop next to the washer. I sat there and watched the kids kneel close to the pet cage, slipping their fingers through the wire-framed door, touching the puppy’s soft fur coat.

  “Do you think we should let him out?” Tim asked anxiously.

  Katie, being a few years older than Timmy, nodded thoughtfully. “I think we can, but just for a minute. We don’t want to wake Mom and Dad.”

  With a flick of the metal latch, the door sprang wide and puppy sprang from the cage once again. Once out, he bolted toward the door. Luckily, Katie was able to kick it shut just seconds before he could make it out of the room.

  The puppy stopped and barked a few times, then howled loudly. Being in such a confined space, the echo in the room was grating.

  “Hush!” Tim screamed, but the puppy continued to shriek. Katie sat on the floor and began to pet him, from the top of his head to the tip of his tail. Within moments, the puppy’s howling began to subside as he was placated by the attention. Just when I thought it was going to be okay, the puppy looked up at me sitting on the counter and it started all over again. He began his yip-like barks at first, running to the base of the cabinets and trying to jump up, before the full-on howling continued. Thankfully, the kids couldn’t see me. I figured the only way I could possibly calm the ruckus was to remove myself from the situation. I vanished and a moment later popped back into the living room, where I was alone once again.

  “Shit,” I mumbled. “That complicates things.” By now the sunrise was nearly complete, and the rays of light that came through the window were strong. I sat down on the faded leather sofa and contemplated my predicament. The noise from the yelping dog down the hall was subsiding, but I knew it would only start up again once they let him out into the rest of the apartment. How was I going to continue to follow Noah around if that little dog raised hell every time I was around?

  No sooner had the thought crossed my mind than the bedroom door clicked open and Noah stepped out. He had donned his bathrobe and wore a look of complete displeasure on his face. He headed straight for the laundry room, to the source of the early morning distraction. A moment later Ashley sauntered out and into the kitchen. Within minutes she had begun to make breakfast.

  The glorious smell of coffee filled the air, and I had a moment of a craving so uncontrollable that I almost stood up and walked right into the kitchen to pour myself a cup. But like most people in the world, coffee makes me poop, so I forced the desire from my mind. Instead, I tried to figure out what it was about that dog the seemed . . . off. In the past month or so, hadn’t I been around other animals? Hadn’t they all ignored me like every other person that I’d come into contact with?

  As I shuffled through the last four weeks’ activities in my mind, I was slow to notice Noah come back into the living room. He was carrying the puppy and was trailed by his two kids. Before I could react, the dog started to howl almost instantly. It was clear that they were going to take the pup for a walk. Noah stopped in his bedroom first to dress. Unfortunately, he failed to close the door all the way, and the dog nosed his way out, back into the living room.

  YELP YELP YELP!

  Before I could stand, he was jumping up on my legs, trying to get onto my lap. I looked at the kids, who just stood in the center of the room, watching the dog.

  “Kids, don’t let him get on the couch. If we want to keep him, he’s going to have to be trained,” Ashley said, coming into the living room. She walked up to where I was sitting and bent down to pick up the puppy. Before she could get ahold of him, he bolted out of her
grasp and began to circle the coffee table, barking and yipping as if playing a game.

  Normally I would have found the scene quite comical, but at the moment I needed to think. And to do so I needed some quiet. Noah was in his room, dressing, and the kitchen was relatively open to the rest of the flat. I decided to just jump to another, unoccupied room of the apartment and go from there. Katie’s room was the first to come to mind, and a second later I was standing at the foot of her bed.

  “Ah, finally. Peace and quiet,” I said as I sat at on a wooden trunk in the corner of her room.

  “Squawk. Peace and quiet,” came a scratchy voice from the adjacent wall. I nearly jumped out of my skin, but I saw no one.

  “Hello? Who’s there?” I asked as I moved to the center of the room for a better look. Upon further investigation, I was certain I was alone. There was nobody else in the room but me.

  “Hello. Who’s there. Squawk,” came the voice from beneath a sheet on the dresser.

  I moved toward the sheet and lifted the edge slightly. As I peeked underneath, I saw a colorful bird perched on a wooden bar at the middle of the birdcage. The bird locked its beady eyes onto mine and bobbed its head a few times before speaking again.

  “Who’s there?” it said, stepping sideways along the bar.

  “Are you kidding me?” I asked. Was I suddenly doomed to a nearly impossible job?

  “Who’s kidding. Squawk!” said the bird, raising his volume several decibels. Before I knew it, Katie came running back into the bedroom and right up to the bird’s cage. She pulled at the sheet before tossing it to the floor.

  “Good morning, Baxter,” Katie said.

  Baxter continued to bob his feathery head as he twisted it about, scanning the room beyond his wire-wrapped prison.

  “Squawk. Morning.”

  Then, all of a sudden, the room became much more cramped as the rest of the family came rushing in.

  “Hey, is Baxter talking?” asked Timmy.

  “Yeah, he started it a few days ago,” Katie said.

  “Squawk. Talk.”

  Along with the presence of the entire family, the puppy followed. The moment he came in, he bolted right for me. This time, though, I was prepared. I was about to leave the godforsaken house for the morning anyway, and popped out just as the dog got near.

  Chapter 4

  I reappeared on my park bench. Thankful to be away from the sudden and unexpected madhouse, I leaned back and considered my situation. There was something about what Hauser had said earlier that continued to stay with me. Other items?

  I pulled the rosary from my pocket to reexamine it and focused on each bead as I pulled it through my fingers. There had to be something about the chaplet that had helped Wilson along. Perhaps I needed to chant something. But what? Maybe some kind of prayer? I smirked. Perhaps I should have listened to my grandmother’s urging and attended Sunday school after all.

  Frustrated, I wound the beads tightly around my fingers until the tips turned white and the crucifix laid positioned toward me. I brought it to my mouth and gently placed my lips upon the cold metal.

  “Uh, Father Almighty?” I began, remembering a few words that my grandmother would say when she prayed. “I, uh, believe . . . in God? Heaven on earth . . . uh, something about Jesus Christ, his one and only son . . .”

  “You better release the tension there, buddy. You’ll either cut the circulation off in your fingers or break the strand completely.”

  I leaped from the bench at the sound of Hauser’s voice. “Jesus, Hauser!”

  “No, but I’ve been mistaken for him at least once through my days as a soul collector.”

  “You nearly scared the shit right out of me. Can you please give me some kind of warning next time? Seriously.”

  “Would you prefer I wear a bell around my neck?” Hauser grinned.

  With my heart rate returning to normal, I sat back down next to Hauser. “Well, if you wouldn’t mind, that would be great.”

  “Speaking of, try placing the rosary around your neck. That should get you a lot closer to figuring things out than where you were just heading.”

  Embarrassed, I fumbled around with the worn beads, avoiding Hauser’s gaze. “Oh, I, uh . . . was just trying to remember the Apostles’ Creed—”

  “No need to explain. It’s like I said earlier, though. Most items are earned, not taken. That was in Wilson’s possession, am I correct?”

  I couldn’t bring myself to answer, so I just nodded my head.

  “And did he give it to you, or did you take it from his person?”

  “The cops were there, and if I didn’t grab it, they would have certainly taken it,” I explained.

  “I see.”

  “And my penance?” I asked, keeping the religious theme rolling in the conversation. “Am I in trouble with the Sentinel, or whoever, for taking it?”

  “No penance, Jack. I’m actually relieved that you took it before they moved his body off. You see, I gave that to him after his thirtieth collected soul.”

  “So there is a proverbial golden watch with each milestone.”

  “No, it was just that Wilson was . . . special. His thirtieth soul was more than just a regular milestone,” Hauser said, his voice drifting off as he spoke. “It was more of breakthrough . . .”

  “How so?” I asked.

  “It’s . . . difficult to explain,” Hauser said.

  Hauser looked off into the distance as we sat in silence for several minutes. It was quite apparent that there was more to the story.

  “So around my neck then?” I asked.

  Several moments passed before Hauser’s attention returned to the present. He looked at me, smiled, and nodded. “Yep.”

  I unfastened the delicate metal clasp and brought it up to my chest, reattaching it behind my neck.

  “Okay, now what?”

  “No, no. You’ve got to do some of this work yourself. Like I said, you didn’t rightfully earn this, so . . .”

  “Ah, so there is contrition. Just in the form of limited information.”

  “Call it what you will, Jack. If you’re going to make it as long as Wilson did, you’re going to have to learn to think for yourself.”

  I nodded, and decided not to push the matter further. It was obvious that Hauser was not in the mood.

  “Can you at least tell me what the rosary does?”

  Hauser looked at me, his steely gaze lightening up momentarily. “It’ll let you see into the future, but only for twenty-four hours, and it is not specific in nature.”

  “Twenty-four hours into the future, but not to any particular event?”

  “Yes, that’s right,” Hauser said.

  “So all this really does for me is, what? Gives me a day’s head start?”

  “Sometimes, Jack, an additional twenty-four hours means a great deal to how you cope with some of these deaths. Some are more gruesome than others, and how we handle each of them is key, emotionally speaking.”

  Listening to Hauser’s words brought up another question that blurted from my mouth before I had a chance to stop it. “Is that why Wilson earned this after his thirtieth soul? Was that particular collection emotional for Wilson?”

  Hauser bobbed his head slowly. “Something like that.”

  Silence enveloped us once again. Perhaps at some point I’d ask Hauser more, but for now I opted to focus at the task at hand. I lifted the crucifix from my chest and brought it to my lips. “Noah Clayton,” I said softly.

  Nothing happened.

  “Show me Noah,” I said, still holding the crucifix near my mouth.

  Again, nothing happened. Hauser tilted his head, giving me a sideways glance. Then he smirked. “Boy, you’re getting it all wrong. If I have to show you everything, you need to follow along with everything I say. Agreed?”

  I nodded eagerly. “Agreed.”

  “First, posture is everything. You have to be standing for this to work.”

  Without hesitation, I stood and
faced Hauser directly. “Next?”

  “No, you’re not quite right,” Hauser said as he considered my stance. “Hold your head up higher, and straighten your back. Your shoulders are far too slouched for this to work properly.”

  I did as Hauser said and thrust my chest out, straightening my shoulders and back in the same motion. “Like this?”

  “Yeah, kid, you’re getting there. Now, place your right hand on your hip with your thumb to the back and your forefingers to the front.”

  I imagined the position in my mind before following Hauser’s latest direction. “All right.”

  “Great. Getting close. Next, lift the crucifix with your left hand but only hold it away from your body with your pinky finger.”

  “Like this?” I asked. As ridiculous as I knew I looked, I could almost feel the future ready to surge through my mind, body, and soul.

  “Great, kid. You’re really outdoing yourself here. Now, this last step is tricky.” Hauser smiled. “If you don’t get it right, you’re going to have to start all over, and let me tell you, you don’t want to look like a fool two times in a row.”

  “Okay, I’m ready. What’s the last step?”

  “All right. Standing on your right foot only, lift your left foot into the air and whistle ‘March from the River Kwai.’”

  Without objecting, I lifted my leg and began to whistle the tune from the classic movie. With my lips pursed together, I made it through the entire first chorus before I noticed Hauser grinning cheek to cheek.

  “What? Am I doing it wrong?”

  Before Hauser could answer, he burst out laughing. I stood on my one leg for another few seconds before I concluded that he was having fun at my expense. Realizing at that moment that I’d not seen him laugh out loud since I’d known him, I began to laugh myself.

  “Oh, God. Jack, I’m sorry, but that was so worth it. I really needed a good laugh right then.”

  As my chuckling subsided, I sat down next to Hauser. “I’m glad I could oblige.”