The Borrowed Souls: A Novel

by Paul B. Kohler

  “Rewind,” I said, not believing my eyes.

  The scene began to play forward again, starting at the moment Katie released the balloon.

  “Rewind.”

  Life reversed further, and the dog had just burst into the flock of birds.

  “Rewind.”

  Further back, and the retriever had just caught the ball. I continued to watch the entire scene play out again. The man throwing the ball. The high bounce. The first of the birds taking flight. The rest of the flock following. The balloon being released. Noah chasing after.

  “Pause,” I said as the bus was about to ram into Noah. I walked forward and noticed that the driver had been looking into his rearview mirror and not paying attention to the street ahead of him. That, in combination with Noah looking away from the flow of traffic, spelled a horrific outcome. And the worst part was that Katie, a mere ten feet away, had to witness the entire incident.

  “Play.”

  The bus hit Noah with such force that his body flew forward nearly fifteen feet. He landed headfirst, driving his shoulder awkwardly sideways. His spine snapped over, his body folding backward unnaturally.

  The grotesqueness made me cringe, and all I could think about was Katie. She stood at the edge of the curb as the bus driver slammed on his brakes, narrowly hitting the gnarled body of her dead father. She screamed at the top of her lungs but remained on the curb. The morbidly curious pedestrians neared the scene, and several bent over to retch. Within moments the crowd had grown large, and the well-meaning strangers moved forward to assist if they could, walking past Katie. Nobody paid any attention to the crying child as she remained at the edge of the sidewalk.

  I let go of the rosary and was brought back to Noah’s apartment. The moment I regained my bearings, I vanished back to my park bench.

  Chapter 8

  Images of Noah’s body crashing into the pavement continued to replay in my mind, overwhelming me with emotion as I paced around. All I could think was how unfair life really was. I wished that I would’ve listened to Hauser’s warning about not getting too attached. But I knew it was far too late for that. As I circled the park bench once more, I realized that it wasn’t just Noah that I had become attached to but his entire family.

  “Shit,” I yelled.

  I could feel my cheeks burn, anger fuming deep inside me. Poor Katie would forever live an altered life after witnessing the freak accident.

  “But Katie hasn’t witnessed anything yet,” Hauser said, startling me back to the present.

  “Sonofabitch,” I exclaimed. “What?”

  “I heard your thoughts, and you’re only half right.”

  “What? I don’t follow,” I said, sitting down next to Hauser.

  “Katie would have challenges coping with witnessing her father’s death. You said . . . I mean, you thought that she would live an altered life after witnessing what she just did. But it hasn’t happened yet.”

  “Semantics. You know what I meant,” I snapped.

  Hauser’s eyes narrowed as he nodded slowly. “Suppose you’re right. Want to tell me how it happened? I’m sorry, what is going to happen?

  I exhaled and leaned back. “Yeah, sure. I went back to the Claytons’ apartment and jumped forward twenty-four hours. I was right at the edge of my limits, and Noah and Katie were walking by the park. They had just taken the dog in to the vet’s office and Noah was treating Katie to a balloon and ice cream. As they walked along the sidewalk, a flock of birds startled Katie and she let go of her balloon. Noah chased after it, stepping into the street, directly in the path of a city bus.”

  Hauser winced at my description. “Well, if it’s any consolation, it sounds like he didn’t suffer. I’m sorry, at least he won’t suffer.”

  “Yeah, I suppose. But the part that really got me was seeing the look of fear on Katie’s face. No one should have to witness such a horrific accident so close, let alone one involving a parent.” I leaned forward and rested my face in the palms of my hands. I wanted to undo what I had just seen.

  Hauser looked at his watch. “You said you were at the outside limits?” he asked.

  I lifted my face and peered at him. “Yeah. Why do you ask?”

  Hauser stowed his watch and looked about the park. After a moment of silence, he said, “Oh, no reason, really.”

  “Jesus, Hauser, why is it that all of these good people die so helplessly? I mean Noah was a good person—”

  “You mean is a good person?”

  I nodded. “Okay, I get it. You don’t have to continue to point out my tenses,” I said. “He is a good father, a good husband, and he was just plain doing things right. How is it that his life can be taken away so easily while there are bad people that can continue living their bad lives at the same time?”

  “So you’re wondering why we don’t have the ability to play God? Is that what you’re asking?” Hauser said.

  “Wait, what? No. I don’t want to play God. I just think it’s completely unfair that good people die when they shouldn’t, while bad people continue to live.”

  “You want to play God. I get that,” Hauser said.

  I thought about his words for a moment. “Well? Is it that bad that I want to make positive changes?”

  “No, it’s not. And trust me, you’re not the first one to have these thoughts. Every new collector has had similar reactions on the matter. And that’s where I come in. I’m here to remind you that it’s not our position, our duty, to dictate who lives and who dies. The balance of humanity is much larger than just you and I could ever imagine. Don’t you remember just a few weeks ago when we were in the ghetto?” Hauser asked.

  Somehow I knew he would bring up the gang fight. “Yeah, I remember.”

  “You see, not all bad people continue to live. There’s a balance, and neither of us have total control over that. Besides, would you want the responsibility of judging who lives and who dies? Forever? For every soul you come into contact with? What if you made the wrong choice? Suppose you let a person live today, and somehow he changes two years, five years down the road? What if suddenly he snaps and becomes a serial killer? Would you blame yourself for letting this person live? Would you be willing to shoulder the burden of all the people that he’d kill?”

  “Hey, slow down. I’m not saying I want total control. I’m just . . . venting, I guess.”

  “All right. I’ll back off,” Hauser said. “I just wanted you to see the alternative, is all.”

  “Thanks.”

  “So was this rosary experience any different than the one you had yesterday?”

  I thought for a moment, trying to figure out where Hauser was going with this question. “I’m . . . not sure. Obviously it was in a different location.”

  “Not what I meant. What about the quality of your surroundings? Were they clear or were they still blurry? Like yesterday.”

  “Hmm. I guess a little of both. I remember the park was crystal clear, as was the bus. Noah and Katie were obviously clear, but the surrounding crowd was a little foggy,” I said as I continued to replay the incident in my mind. “And I guess the geese were clear and blurry at the same time. Does that make sense?”

  Hauser nodded. “Yeah. It was probably something to do with how they flew off into the air. Like I said, I’m not sure how it all works.”

  “The terrified look on Katie’s face was the clearest of all,” I said.

  “Hey, don’t beat yourself up too much,” Hauser said as he stood and faced me. “Just remember, no one is dead yet.” Then he winked and vanished.

  Chapter 9

  What the hell is that supposed to mean? I wondered. As I sat on the park bench, alone, I pondered Noah’s impending death and its relation to the conversation I’d just had with Hauser. Here I was, a mere six weeks since my own suicide attempt, and I felt more confused and overwhelmed than ever. I’d gone from worrying about my own depression to contemplating playing God. What happened?

  Just remember, no one is dead
yet. There had to be a reason why Hauser had said that, and what was up with the wink afterward? Did he really just imply that he wanted me to actually attempt to intervene? To actually take on a God role in this particular soul collection? Was it even possible? Or was I reading too much into it?

  I sat back and thought. If I could change the outcome, how would I go about it? I couldn’t speak to Noah, to tell him that he needed to stay away from the park. I could only talk to Hauser and . . . and the animals. “Hey Bailey, do me a favor, would ya’? Bite your master so he can’t walk in the park with Katie.” Yeah, no. I didn’t think that’d work.

  What else? There was something else about the questions from Hauser that lingered in my mind. He’d asked about the scenery. The surroundings and whether they were clear or not. Why would any of that matter? That’s when an idea began to form. I remembered another conversation with Hauser, when he’d said that the reason things were blurry or unclear was because those elements of the future were still uncertain. I tried to recall Noah’s death again, but the imagery was already fading, drifting from my memory. I struggled at remembering what was real and what my mind was trying to convince me was real. No, I needed to see it all again. Regretfully, I needed to see Noah die all over.

  I sprang from the park bench and vanished.

  Chapter 10

  Landing in the middle of the Claytons’ apartment, I found the setting very much as I had left it not more than an hour earlier. I moved around the residence until I found Noah, slumped in an easy chair, reading a magazine. Wasting no time, I knelt down next to him and grasped the rosary. I touched his arm and within seconds was whisked away, back into Noah’s future.

  When my vision cleared, I stood on the sidewalk next to the park. In front of me, Noah’s body lay awkwardly in the street. There were hordes of people surrounding the accident, but nobody moved. It was like the scene was frozen in time. It became clear to me that this must be the exact moment that Noah would die.

  “Rewind. Rewind. Rewind,” I said, wanting to go back far enough to get a feel of the entire incident once again. “Pause.”

  Noah and Katie stood in line at an ice cream vendor. The large open field with the gaggle of geese was just to my left. To my right was where Noah’s crumpled body would lay shortly. With the environment frozen in time, I was able to move around and see everything from multiple perspectives. I walked toward Noah’s position, studying everything as I went. As I weaved through the motionless pedestrians, I focused on the clarity of everything around me. Not surprisingly, things were somewhat clearer than they had been in my first review of Noah’s future. I surmised that it was because I was now closer to his death.

  When I approached the ice cream cart, the vendor was holding an ice cream cone out to Katie, who had a cheerful smile on her face. I moved around all sides of the scene, looking for something, anything, that I could do to alter Noah’s path. With all the people around me, I saw no way for me to do so.

  “Fast-forward. Pause.”

  When the scene paused again, Noah and Katie were standing at the edge of the clearing, staring off into the distance. I walked up to where they stood and looked in the direction of their gaze. The man and his dog were still, lifeless, in the large grassy area. The man had just released the ball in the air and the dog had started his sprint in the direction of the throw. At that precise moment, I knew exactly what I needed to do. I ran toward the dog, my excitement building with each step. When I got to where the dog floated inches above the ground, I looked back toward Noah and Katie. Then I looked to where Katie would eventually release her balloon. I estimated that the distance would take them three to five minutes to walk. I knew that it was an exceedingly tight window in which to try to distract the dog long enough for them to pass that part of the park, but I had to make an effort.

  “Play.”

  The dog in front of me continued charging forward and caught the ball. Without breaking stride, he returned to his master and dropped the tennis ball. Total round trip for the fetch was about sixty seconds. The dog’s master picked up the ball again and tossed it through the air. The retriever missed catching the ball in midair but still continued the chase. The ball bounced high into the air and directly toward the birds. Thirty seconds. As the dog blasted through the outer edge of the flock, birds began to scatter into the air. Fifteen seconds. As the dog reached the tennis ball at the center of the flock, most of the birds were now flying away. Ten seconds. As the dog turned and ran toward his owner, I saw something.

  “Pause.”

  I ran forward to where the flock had been just moments before. The golden retriever was in full stride back toward his owner, and when I got to his location, I noticed how blurry he and the ball were. I smiled, recalling once again what Hauser had said about the reasoning behind the blur. Sometimes things don’t always occur as planned. That was it. I’d found it. I just had to distract the dog long enough.

  “Play.”

  The scene continued as the blurry dog ran back toward his master. I turned to watch the birds fly toward Noah and Katie and noticed they continued to fluctuate between obscured blurs and crystal clear. I dismissed the vision as the red balloon began to flow through the air. As Noah took two steps into the street, I released the rosary from my grip.

  I was back in Noah’s apartment, kneeling next to his sleeping body. The magazine he had been reading just moments before was now lying across his chest. I stood and walked into the kitchen, looked at the clock on the microwave, and noted the time: 4:43 p.m.

  I had about eighteen hours to kill before I put my plan in motion, which gave me plenty of time for a short visit to a sporting goods store and perhaps a brief rest until my next visit to the park.

  A moment later I vanished from Noah’s apartment.

  Chapter 11

  In all my life, I’ve never once stolen anything. I find it amusing that it took me until I was, for all intents and purposes, dead before I took up the knack. Just in the last twenty-four hours, I’d stolen animal treats, a tube of tennis balls, and a much-needed timepiece. All were justified acquisitions, so I didn’t feel terribly bad for my sudden pilfering.

  I slid my wrist out and admired the skeletonized face of my new Nixon Automatic. The time was 10:31 in the morning. I was nervous that my plan might not work at all, and I only had this one chance to make a difference. Therefore I had positioned myself in the park just out of sight of where the man would be playing fetch with the golden retriever. As I waited beneath the canopy of a mature elm tree, I popped open the can of fresh tennis balls and quickly brought it up to my nose. I inhaled deeply, enjoying a brief reflection of good times past. A memory from when Cyndi and I were first dating filled my mind. We had taken up tennis and even took a few lessons with a pro from the health club. Neither of us were very good at it, but it was quality time spent together, and that was all that mattered.

  Reluctantly I pushed the memory away and focused on the task at hand. I needed to be ready for when the man and his dog first arrived at the park. I poured the first clean tennis ball out into my hand and gave it a tight squeeze. The texture of the ball against my skin gave me confidence somehow. I tossed the ball in the air a few times, catching it on the downfall. I was ready.

  My plan was simple. I was going to wait until the dog trotted into view, and then I would throw the ball out from behind my hiding perch in an attempt to get the dog’s attention. With any luck I could distract the dog long enough for Noah and Katie to pass the scene of the accident. It was a brilliant idea.

  Five minutes later, I found myself staring out at the golden receiver being walked by his master. I waited until they were within throwing distance before I tossed the ball toward them. As the ball flew through the air, it flickered from a faded existence to a fully solid object. It bounced once, then twice before rolling gently across the dog’s path. As expected, the dog bolted for the ball and scooped it up greedily in his mouth.

  “Hey, Duke. What do you have there?
That doesn’t belong to you,” said his master.

  The dog pranced around, playing coy, and avoiding letting his master take his newfound ball away.

  “Give it here. Drop? I’m sure someone will be looking for this,” he said, glancing about the park. After several moments, he caved in. “All right, boy. I guess we can play until the owner comes to claim it.”

  Almost as if the dog understood what his master was saying, he quickly dropped the ball at his feet, anticipating the throw. The dog’s wishes were quickly granted as the man picked up the ball and chucked it through the air. The retriever dashed after it, almost catching the ball in midair. After a short bounce, he caught it and quickly returned it to his master.

  Wait, I thought. This isn’t what I had planned. In fact, it appeared that I had just given the dog and his owner the very tool that would spell disaster for Noah in less than five minutes’ time. I thought about tossing a few more balls out, but by the time the idea came to me, the dog and his master were several yards past me and were nearing the clearing with the birds.

  “Shit!” I yelled.

  I bolted from my hiding spot in an attempt to catch up to them. As I neared their position, I could see the silhouette of Noah and Katie walking down the sidewalk. I quickly revised my calculations and knew I had just minutes left to stop the birds from flying off, causing Katie to react.

  I was nearly upon the man and his dog when a sudden idea shot through my mind like a freight train. Instead of slowing my pace to throw a new ball, I increased my speed and ran directly toward the geese. It was a huge gamble, but I felt I was correct in the assumption that if dogs could see me, so could a flock of wild birds.