“What the hell just happened?” Luke asked.
“Shut up, Luke,” Enoch and I said in unison.
“You see, Jack, sometimes you can’t actually change fate. Luke and Meghan were supposed to die, and dammit, I’m gonna make sure that happens.”
“What does it matter to you if they live or die?” I demanded.
“Honestly, it really doesn’t matter one iota. I just saw an opportunity here, and I decided to take it.”
“What opportunity is that?” I asked, stepping toward Enoch discreetly.
“Back off, Jack. You don’t want to end up like Meghan here, do you?” Enoch asked.
I froze. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed Luke once again inching toward his cell phone.
I raised my hands up in surrender. “Hey, it’s no sweat off my brow either, buddy,” I said as I took two steps back, hoping to keep Enoch’s attention away from Luke.
Enoch raised an eyebrow. “You surprise me, Jack. I thought you were all about saving lives. Why the sudden change of heart?”
“No reason, really,” I said, taking another step back.
Enoch instinctively glanced toward Luke, grasping his cell phone in his hand. Without another word, Enoch squeezed the trigger, placing a bullet in the side of Luke’s temple. He dropped to the floor next to Meghan’s dead body.
“Nice try, Jack. But what do you think him calling the police would’ve done for your cause? I’ll tell you, absolutely nothing.”
I rushed into the kitchen, knelt down next to the bodies, and felt for a pulse. There was none, on either of them. Instinctively, I withdrew their soul boxes from my pocket.
“Not so fast, Jack,” Enoch said as he leveled the revolver in my direction. “I need you to back up, and I mean right now.”
I saw the revolver cocked and loaded, and obeyed Enoch’s command, stepping away from the dead bodies. I wasn’t entirely sure whether or not I could be killed again, seeing as I was, for all intents and purposes, dead already. Regardless, I wasn’t about to tempt that particular fate.
A moment later, Enoch withdrew a cylindrical copper tube no longer than a medicine bottle. He unfastened the lid, and an instant later Luke and Meghan’s souls shot directly into the opening. Enoch reattached the lid and slipped it back into his pocket.
“What, you did this just so you can collect their souls on your own?” I asked.
“I have my reasons, and none of them are of any of your concern.” Enoch continued to point his pistol in my direction. We stood, facing each other in silence. Slowly, Enoch began to move toward the entry door of the apartment, shuffling his feet backward, blindly.
Suddenly, Hauser appeared next to me in the kitchen.
“Oh, I was wondering when you would show up,” Enoch said, now pointing the pistol at Hauser.
The look of surprise on Hauser’s face spoke volumes. Without a single word, he smiled, then vanished just as suddenly as he’d appeared.
Enoch blinked rapidly as he swung the pistol in an arc around the room, expecting Hauser to reappear just as randomly. Thinking along the same lines, I also disappeared, jumping into the bedroom momentarily before returning to the living room. Enoch’s back was toward me, but he sensed me almost instantly. He repointed the pistol at me, but before he could pull the trigger, I vanished again. I continued to jump in and out of the bedroom and various parts of the living room and kitchen until Enoch clearly became bored with the game. He stopped pointing his gun at me at every reappearance.
Then, Hauser reappeared right behind him. He reached out to grasp Enoch’s shoulder, but before he could get a grip, Enoch vanished himself. He rematerialized near the apartment door.
“If you want to catch me, old man, you’re going to have to get up a little earlier in the morning,” Enoch said. He no longer pointed the gun at either of us but just stood there, waiting for something.
As if on cue, the apartment door opened and in stepped Dana Holloway.
Enoch looked in our direction one last time, then winked. He handed the revolver to Dana and vanished.
Dana looked at the gun in his hand quizzically before looking up at Hauser and me. “What . . . what’s going on here?” he asked.
Curious, I wondered how Dana could see any of us. Was he still destined to die? In Luke’s flash-forward, Dana had taken his own life after he’d killed Meghan and Luke. Now I wondered if he would do the same once he discovered that they were both already dead in the kitchen.
Before Hauser or I could answer, we heard the sound of police sirens out front, and then the screech of tires echoing between the buildings. I looked at Hauser, who nodded his head slowly and then flipped his thumb up and over his shoulder. It was time to go. We vanished from Luke’s apartment.
Chapter 12
“What the hell was that all about,” I asked as I paced around my cabin.
Hauser stood at the center of the room, his eyes staring off into space, as if trying to focus on a distant star. “I don’t know. I haven’t actually seen Enoch in person for—”
“No, not that. What was up with him killing Luke and Meghan?” I asked.
“I’m sorry, what?” Hauser asked.
“Didn’t you see them dead? Haven’t you been following me around, silently, letting me stumble and fall?”
“No. I’ve been . . . busy. You say he killed them?”
“Yeah, kind of like that dream I had a few months ago. He kind of just showed up, and when I wasn’t willing to take their souls, he killed them both.”
“Wait, slow down. I need you to tell me everything,” Hauser demanded.
I recapped my search for Meghan and Luke, my dismay at their infidelity, and my decision to intervene once again in my soul collection, pacing around the cabin as I spoke. When I finished catching him up, I sat heavily on the couch. “You’re telling me you really didn’t know anything I was doing?” I asked.
“No, nothing whatsoever.”
“Well, after deciding to save their two souls, I jumped back to Luke’s apartment to make sure that they were okay, and that’s when Enoch showed up and killed them both. Your timing couldn’t have been worse. He fired the gun just seconds before you arrived.”
“My God, so it’s true.”
“What’s true? That Enoch is a psychopath? I thought we knew that already.”
“No, that he is in fact interfering with the collection of other souls.”
“Well, I believe that’s the understatement of the century,” I said, then wondered if my own interference would be equally feared by the Sentinel. Granted, my own changes in fate were far less violent than Enoch’s, but still, I was changing fate just the same.
As Hauser and I contemplated the situation, I began to worry that things might be far worse than I’d imagined. Hauser’s was not his usual jovial self, and a worried look was plastered across his face.
“Anything else?” he asked.
“Well, after he killed them, I attempted to collect their souls. But before I could do so, he pulled out some kind of collection chamber of his own and took both of the souls instantaneously.”
Hauser stopped pacing and stared at me. “Was it a copper tube, and about yea big?” he asked, holding his fingers a few inches apart.
“Yeah, that’s about it. What’s this all about?” I asked.
“I . . . I have no words. I had always thought that it was a rumor. What you just described is what we’ve coined a soul magnet. It is believed to have been created centuries ago for the mass collection of souls without the need of cleansing. The way that it was rumored to work was that you opened the vessel and any free soul present with a hundred-meter radius would shoot into the tube.”
“You say rumored. Has the Sentinel not told you anything about it?”
Hauser shook his head. “No, the Sentinel even withholds information from me from time to time.”
“Well, then what’s our next step? I still have their soul boxes,” I said, pulling them from my pocket.
Hauser took them from me and held them out in front of us so that we could see the names. Luke Holloway and Meghan Sharp still was etched on each of the boxes.
“Curious. I would’ve thought that once the soul magnet took their souls, your boxes would re-etch with new names.”
“Well, it doesn’t appear to have happened that way. Can’t you use one of your devices and go after Enoch? Maybe we can still get those souls from his soul magnet thingy.”
“No, I’ve chased after him in the past, and he’s wise to the maneuver. He instinctively jumps to locations that would leave a follower in a precarious situation. There have been a number of times that I nearly died following him. So, no, we can’t go after him. Not now.”
“So, we can die again?” I asked, fearing for my own mortality.
“In an abstract sense, yes. We really never actually died, you see. We just left the life of the living, breathing population. So, yes, you should fear for your own mortality, because it is still just as fragile.”
“Then what’s next?”
“Well, my friend, I think we have no other choice than to finally introduce you to the Sentinel. Maybe they can give us some kind insight on the situation.”
“Oh. Oh my. I . . . I’m not sure how I feel about that. Won’t they be a little upset with me for avoiding the collection of these two, especially after my previous indiscretions?”
“You can’t worry about that, Jack. There are far more important things that are on their minds, I’m sure.”
“You’re the boss,” I said nervously. “Lead the way.”
Hauser stepped to my side and held his arm out level with the ground. “Take my arm, Jack. Take my arm, and clear your mind of all thoughts. You’re just along for the ride.”
I did as he said, forcing every possible thought away. When all that was left was Hauser and me, we vanished from the cabin.
Chapter 1
I was enveloped in total blackness. A shade so dark that only moments before I didn't even know existed. It was calming and disturbing at the same time. In the far distance, I heard a faint hum. It was almost imperceptible. But, as the hum got louder, so did my senses sharpen. Before I knew it, the hum had developed into a full blown shriek. The blaring of a car horn woke me from my deep unconscious sleep, causing my heart rate to increase rapidly. I sprang to my feet and rubbed the blurriness from my eyes.
As I stood, dizziness instantly overwhelmed me and I nearly fell backward. I grabbed at the back of the bench to steady myself. I looked around. I focused on the park bench for which gave me stability and expected to find the surroundings of my old park bench in New York. But, I recognized nothing. I stood in the middle of a large cobblestone pavilion, pedestrians milling about all around me. The two drive lanes to my left and right were vacant, save for a white bus that was driving away from me in the far distance. Taking in the building façade surrounding the plaza, I tried to remember if I’d seen any of it before. Unfortunately, nothing looked remotely familiar.
“Where the hell am I?” I mumbled to myself.
I looked at my watch but the second hand had stopped. I shook my wrist a few times to activate the automatic winder, and the seconds once more began to tick away. As I watched the rhythmic mechanical movement, I remembered that automatic watches such as mine would stop ticking after twenty-four to thirty-six hours of inactivity. Had I actually been unconscious for more than a day, on a bench in an unknown city?
I tried to recall my last clear memory. Hauser and I had been about to leave my cabin. Enoch had just killed the last two souls I’d been assigned to collect. I remember Hauser telling me that it was time to . . . to do something. I just couldn’t remember what.
A sudden pressure assaulted my inner ears. It felt as if my head would explode. I shut my eyes tightly and rubbed the sides of my temples to help soothe the pain. When was the last time that I had actually had a headache? I couldn’t remember having one since I’d entered the afterlife.
As the throbbing pain slowly ebbed, I opened my eyes, but the wooziness remained. I scratched at the back of my head absently as another sharp pain shot through my body. I pulled my hand away, and the tips of my fingers were covered with some kind of red residue.
“Holy shit,” I gasped. Gingerly, I touched the spot on my head and found an enormous knot—my hair crusted over with blood.
I decided to do a quick check of my own mental facilities.
Who am I? I’m Jack Duffy.
What do I do? I’m a soul collector in the afterlife.
How did I become a soul collector? I tried to kill myself and only moderately succeeded.
Do I have any family or friends? My parents had passed away years ago. My wife died shortly after I left the living. As for friends, I had only one true friend. Hauser. Hauser . . . what? Did Hauser have a last name?
Where are you? I’m not sure.
Why are you here? I don’t know that either.
An old Camus quote came to mind. It went something like this: To know oneself, one should assert oneself.
So, action it was. I began to walk through the unknown place. Is this just another part of my hometown? Possibly, but the architecture was different, and the smell was unique. I could smell fresh air like I’d not experienced in quite some time. No, I was not in New York. I was someplace . . . different.
I thought about jumping to my cabin, to a place that was familiar to me, but decided against it. What if I was supposed to be here? What if Hauser was nearby and I left without saying a word? Wherever I was, there must have been a reason for me being here. I decided to continue walking through the pavilion with hopes that I might figure out where I was.
As I neared the end of the block, I found myself standing at the corner of Sixteenth Street and Champa Street. Champa doesn’t sound remotely familiar.
I stopped at the corner, looking up and down the cross street, and saw mountains near the horizon. My God, where the hell am I?
Ding, ding. Ding, ding.
The sound echoed between the buildings. Startled, I looked over my shoulder and saw another white bus with the words The Ride, Denver’s Free Shuttle plastered along the side.
“Huh, so I’m in Denver,” I said.
“That’s very astute, Jack,” came a voice from behind me. A voice that I instantly recognized and one that I would never forget. I spun around and found Wilson Oliver smiling at me.
Chapter 2
It took me nearly a full minute of staring into Wilson’s seasoned eyes to realize that he was in fact standing in front of me. “My God, Wilson. Is it really you?” I asked.
He bobbed his head slowly, maintaining eye contact. “It is I, but honestly, Jack, it hasn’t been that long since we last spoke.”
“Sure it has. It’s been what? Almost six months?” I asked.
“Funny thing, time. For some it passes at a snail’s pace, while for others . . . well, let’s just say that I remember seeing you as if it were just days ago,” Wilson said.
Hearing the old man speak was music to my ears. After so many months of limited company—listening to Hauser’s satirical comments and bravado or the occasional deathbed conversation with the souls that I was there to collect-—actually being in Wilson’s presence was just what I needed.
“But how is this possible? How is it that you’re alive? You are alive, right?”
“Ah, yes very much so.”
“But how? I took your soul. I . . . I visited your dead body on that park bench for many days after your . . . death.”
“Well, Jack, turns out that having been a successful soul collector for as many years as I was has its privileges,” Wilson said proudly. “You see, after my soul was delivered to the Sentinel, I was given the option to either be reincarnated into a new being or to reclaim my old body and take a seat on the high council, with the Sentinel.”
“Wow, and I thought that you would’ve taken reincarnation. Have the chance at a new body?”
“Trust me, Jack, the
thought did cross my mind. But I’ve become quite accustomed to this old bag of bones, and the opportunity to be on the council was really something I’d never imagined possible for myself. But that’s enough about me. How about you? It appears that you’re in a bit of a pickle once again.”
I nodded in agreement. “Yeah, you could say that. I seem to have lost time . . . again. I think it has something to do with this bump on the back of my head.” I bowed my head down to give Wilson a look.
“Ouch, that certainly looks like it smarts. What is the last thing you remember?” he asked.
A sudden recollection flooded my mind. “Well, as irony has it, Hauser and I were about to come visit the Sentinel, I think. There was a . . . complication with my last collection, and Hauser thought it was imperative that we seek advice from the Sentinel. My last clear memory was grabbing a hold of Hauser’s arm and darkness came over me. Beyond that, I can’t remember a thing. I can see visions of scenes—almost as if a film projector is out of focus—but I just can’t make anything out. Does that make sense?”
“I understand. As a matter of fact, the event you speak of occurred almost three days ago. I imagine there’s a logical explanation for the memory loss.”
“Three days? Are you shitting me? How can I have lost three days?”
Wilson contemplated the situation for several moments. “I think you might be right, Jack—perhaps the bump on the back of your head is your problem. Thankfully, you and I have the ability to re-experience your past. You do still have the coin, don’t you? Are you a willing to take another trip down memory lane?”
I began to turn out my pockets, emptying everything that I had on my person. First out was the rosary, which I handed to Wilson. Next I pulled out two soul boxes. One had my name on it—the very box that Wilson gave me when I took his soul all those months ago. The other box had a name that I also recognized. The name of Calvin’s mother—Penelope Rose. Lastly, I pulled out the coin.
“That’s strange. The last two boxes I remember having were for Luke and Meghan. I don’t remember getting Penelope’s box,” I said.
The Borrowed Souls: A Novel Page 25
