The Borrowed Souls: A Novel

by Paul B. Kohler

  “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 birt
h 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 tw
isted 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.

  Chapter 1