“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 f
irst 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 o
ut. 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.”
The Borrowed Souls: A Novel Page 19
