An Unusual Occupation

by M. L. S. Weech

  Bob looked like he wanted to break down. Nick saw the tears in David’s eyes. David sat up on his knees to reveal Drew. Apparently, Drew had been racing to beat David to Nick. The car turned into the rest stop and struck the poor dog before he could react.

  Bob walked over to the scene and placed one hand on Drew and the other on David. Drew wasn’t breathing. His time had come, and so had Bob’s.

  “Why don’t you go see your mom?” Bob recommended to David. “We can handle things here.” David looked so hurt. Bob could see the guilt forming in the young man’s eyes. David impressively fought back a tear that desperately wanted to fall. “It’s not your fault, David,” Bob told him. “It was just time. He felt no pain, and he loved being here with you.”

  “He just got in front of me,” David said. His eyes were wide, as if he was still trying to put everything together.

  “I understand,” Bob said. “It’s not your fault. It’s not the driver’s fault, either.” Bob noticed the driver.

  The driver stood silently, much like Nick did at that point in time. Both of them looked very confused. Bob looked at the driver.

  “Don’t worry,” Bob said softly. “I know it was an accident. I’m sure Nick,” Bob briefly looked over to his friend, “will take your number. You can discuss this later. For now, I think they need to be alone.”

  Nick looked half confused and half suspicious. He took the driver’s number and didn’t argue the idea. The driver left without using the facility. “Nick, we need to take him home,” Bob said.

  “Was ... ” Nick stammered. “Was that the way it was meant to happen? Would he have died if I didn’t run?”

  Bob could see the guilt forming in the form of Nick’s tears. He shook his head. “I don’t get that sort of information,” Bob said. “But it was his time. That moment was inescapable for him. It was simply his time.”

  He had theories, of course. Death was weird sometimes. Choice always played a part. Sometimes, a person could change his or her fate by choosing not to do something. Other times, the Death Sense was truly imminent. Bob imagined that choices played some fatalistic role in the manner of death. He didn’t imagine Nick needed to hear that. Instead, Bob said, “We should go.”

  Nick silently agreed. Cheryl, Mike, and David arrived just in time to help Bob and Nick move Drew to the van.

  As they carried the central key to their family, Bob took what he came for. The warm soul slowly filled him from his fingertips to his chest. Eventually, the warmth faded, and Bob understood where the soul needed to be Transported.

  Bob expressed his sorrow and was a bit relieved that he didn’t have to explain why he was there. Nick followed him to his car.

  Nick began the conversation. “I don’t understand.”

  “Understand what?” Bob said.

  “You came here for Drew?” he asked.

  Bob nodded his head with a smile. He could almost see Nick’s heart soar. Suddenly, it dawned on Bob that Nick thought he was there for David’s soul. I’m such an idiot, he thought, mentally kicking himself.

  “Nick, I never meant to imply David. I didn’t even ... ” he paused. Nick was crying, but he smiled as well.

  “I miss him,” Nick said. “I’m so glad it wasn’t David. And I hate myself for being happy, even though Drew is gone.” Bob could sense Nick’s pain at losing such a good friend, but the idea that David was safe was so joyous to Nick, he couldn’t find it in him to grieve just then. At least, not the way he would in time.

  Bob placed a hand on Nick. He felt the warm sensation of the last part of Drew Pass On to the dog’s old friend and master.

  “Drew Passed the last part of his soul to you,” Bob said.

  Nick smiled at Bob and suddenly understood what had just happened. Most people felt a warm tingle when they received a soul, but they let their mind make up whatever rationalization made sense.

  “He left it to me,” Nick echoed.

  “You bribed him with ice cream,” Bob said with a smile. Nick chuckled as a few more tears dropped from his eyes.

  Bob helped them bury Drew and watched as the Taylor family shared a few stories. Bob appreciated that he had a story to tell as well. He felt that he had, at last, done something good with his job.

  Every single creature has a soul. Each has a piece to leave this world. Bob said his goodbyes so he could finish his work.

  He left the house. As he walked, a simple light appeared at the end of the yard. It looked like a vertical tear between the grass and the sidewalk.

  Bob reached into the light. Even when he thought the soul was off to a bad place, he was never afraid. Bob wasn’t sure if his lack of trepidation was due to influence or common sense. He felt Drew’s soul Transport. It was so warm and comforting, Bob thought it might be what it was like to have happiness running down one’s arm. It felt like an arm that’s fallen asleep, but one could feel it coming alive yet again.

  Bob was glad Drew was happy when he left. Some were scared or angry. Bob was pleased that, for once, he took a soul that didn’t fear him. He remembered his imaginary conversation with Drew. Journeymen can’t talk to animals—yet another power that Bob didn’t have that might actually be useful. It didn’t go exactly as Bob planned, but he’d get better at it. He promised himself that much.

  Bob truly wished people knew that death wasn’t something to be feared. He didn’t think death should be desired, either, just expected. To Bob, death was something people should take notice of and, in realizing its imminent approach, take the chance to do more in life.

  The point, in his mind, was to make sure that when the time for one’s death came, whomever he came to Transport would have no regrets. He didn’t want them to regret not doing or saying something. Bob wondered if he could do for others what he had done for Drew. He wondered if he could comfort them and maybe grant them a last request before their time. He vowed to try.

  25

  A Pleasant Conversation

  October 15, 2006

  I actually had a pleasant conversation with Kyle today. Maybe I can convince him to leave me alone. The truth is, I have to do what I have to do, and I doubt either officer is going to like that very much.

  Bob wasn’t at all pleased to see Detective Kyle LeShea’s car parked outside the Taylors’ house. Until that day, he had thought the police were done following him. Talking to the Taylor family could ruin everything, and he couldn’t afford to lose control of the situation.

  He went to the door and knocked, determined to keep a positive attitude. The Taylors had very little to do with anything, and Bob didn’t want that family to have to go through anything they didn’t need to.

  Mike answered the door and held it open for Bob with a smile. At least he didn’t slam it in my face.

  “Greetings,” he said to everyone. He paused a few moments before greeting the detective, using the policeman’s rank as a title.

  “We’re very sorry, Robert,” Cheryl said. In Bob’s experience, it was never a good thing when someone used his full first name. Bob must have looked confused, because she began to explain. “Detective LeShea told us about your friend Miguel’s death.”

  If anyone heard the breath escape Bob’s lips, they didn’t say anything about it. “I appreciate your sentiment, but he was more of a mutual acquaintance, and it was a while ago now,” Bob said, hoping it sounded pleasant.

  “Funny you didn’t mention it, Bob,” the detective said, as if he and Bob were long-time friends.

  “I try not to bring any of my misfortune to anyone else,” Bob said honestly enough.

  “It’s none of our business,” Nick said. He glared at Kyle, as if to say he’d mentioned that fact before. I knew there was a reason I liked you, Bob thought.

  Bob moved over to the table where he normally tutored David and began to set up his books for his session. It was more of an excuse for Bob to visit than anything else, but Bob had a few books he wanted to give David that the young man could use to prepare for any exa
ms he might have to pass to get into calculus.

  He could hear David playing guitar in the other room, which made him smile thinking about the performance a few days back. He hoped David would keep playing. A pang of sadness hit him when he wondered who would push him to keep playing now that Drew was gone to wherever Bob had sent him.

  “Detective,” Bob said. “I imagine you’re here to speak with me, and it appears as though I have some time.”

  “Well, sort of,” the cop said. He shrugged in what Bob imagined Kyle thought was a coy way. “I knew you tutored here after school.” Because you and your partner followed me for three days, Bob thought. “I wondered what sort of family deserved such attention from a substitute.”

  Bob suddenly realized how sharp the razor on which he was. “I handed out my number to all of my students when I first started teaching,” Bob explained. “So far, David’s family is the only one to respond.”

  “And we’ve been happy to have him,” Nick said. God bless you, Sir.

  The detective looked at Bob in the oddest way, causing Bob to keep his eyes low. He worried he’d look guilty, but after he stared at Kyle for so long, he couldn’t really bring himself to look the detective in the eye. Bob thought Kyle looked confused. Well, that’s not so bad, Bob thought. At least he’s not sure I’m a killer.

  “We should talk outside, Bob,” Kyle said. Bob shrugged at the comment and followed the detective out the front door. Kyle didn’t say anything until they reached his car.

  “I talked to them for a good hour about you, Bob.”

  Bob couldn’t help but feel a surge of anger. What right did this cop have to bother a good family? Bob realized that he gave the police that right when he decided to get to know the Taylors. The cops were interested in him, which meant they were interested in everyone he knew. “They didn’t have one bad thing to say about you.”

  “I try to be a good guest.”

  “So I’m thinking my partner’s off about you.”

  “Does that mean I can have my life back?”

  “No.”

  “That’s disappointing.”

  “Good.”

  “I thought you said the sergeant was wrong.”

  “I said he was off, not wrong.”

  “That makes no sense.”

  “See, we have this great working relationship,” Kyle said, taking a seat on the hood of his car. “He follows the evidence. Me, I got a nice sense for people. What’s bothering me is that you don’t have any of the signs a killer would have.”

  “I would be comforted by that fact,” Bob replied. He decided it would be best if he stayed where he was, next to the car door.

  “You’re involved in those deaths somehow,” Kyle said. “I’m just not sure how yet. I just wish I knew why my instincts told me you mean well.”

  “I do.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “They’re your instincts, Detective.”

  “Then come clean.”

  “I can’t confess, or whatever, to something I didn’t do.”

  “And I can’t let go of the fact that you’re involved somehow.”

  Bob thought Kyle’s wording was odd. He couldn’t let go? Did that mean he wanted to?

  “I hope you have this sort of fervor with all your cases.”

  “I certainly do, Bob.” Kyle hopped off the hood of his car and got inside.

  “So you’ll be my unannounced guest tonight?” Bob asked.

  “I’m going to get to know you better,” he said. He seemed like a kid who had just found a curious hole to look down. “The more I know about you, the better chance I figure out what you’re doing. That should give me some answers.”

  “And if your answers prove your instincts are right, and I’m not a bad guy?” Bob asked, hopeful for a favorable response.

  “I doubt that’ll happen,” the cop said. “Maybe you do mean well, but I think you’re still letting people die that might not have to.”

  “That’s regrettably false,” Bob said.

  “Which part?” the detective asked. I wish I didn’t respect you so much. At least then I could be angry with you, Bob thought.

  “That I would ever let anybody die,” Bob answered. He headed back to the Taylor house without asking for permission. Kyle didn’t seem to mind.

  Nick was waiting at the dining-room table when Bob came in. He seemed more serious than usual. Bob was certain that was more of a reason to be upset with the police than any other inconvenience he’d suffered. Nick was a kind soul who was truly infectious when he was happy, and Bob didn’t like to see him upset.

  “That cop bugging you?” he asked, with a nod in the direction of the door.

  “I only wish every policeman was that dedicated to his work,” Bob said honestly enough.

  “Still, doesn’t seem right with him bothering you.”

  “It doesn’t bother me, really. I actually like him.”

  Nick laughed. He had a beer in his hand and took a small pull from it. “Good people shouldn’t bother other good people,” he said. He had that distant look in his eye that hurt Bob to see. He must be thinking of Drew.

  “I happen to think that good people can’t honestly bother other good people,” Bob mused aloud. “When I first met you, your whole family took me in as if you’d known me ten years.”

  “You’re a likable fellow, and I keep a shotgun handy.”

  “I hope you didn’t say that to the detective.”

  “Why? It’s my standard greeting. Nice to meet you ... I’m Nick. I own a shotgun.”

  “And yet Cheryl tells me she can’t take you anywhere because of how many friends you have.”

  “They’re all members of the NRA,” Nick said. The balding grandfather took another drink of his beer.

  “I see,” Bob replied with a laugh. He liked Nick’s sense of humor. Bob felt a twinge of guilt coming on. He enjoyed these visits far too much. But he had finished with Drew, which meant his business with the Taylors was all but over.

  “I don’t think David’s coming out,” the oldest Taylor said.

  “We may have created a monster,” Bob said with a chuckle.

  “We? I seem to remember his teacher telling him about that contest.”

  “I was subliminally commanded to inspire the boy.”

  “You’re blaming me,” Nick laughed.

  “Actually, your dog,” Bob said.

  Nick became quiet for a long moment. Bob thought he’d gone too far until the old man said, “I thought I trained him better.”

  “He did it outside.”

  “Oh? Well, that’s OK then. Your fault for being there.”

  “I suppose it is, then,” Bob replied. It’s all my fault. That much is certain.

  Nick took another pull of his beer. “I have questions,” he said. Bob looked around, startled. Cheryl and Mike were in the backyard.

  “I don’t have many answers,” Bob said.

  “Am I next?” Nick asked.

  “No, not unless you do something stupid,” Bob answered.

  “So you can tell when a person’s gonna?”

  “Yeah, but don’t let that make you believe you’re guaranteed a long life,” Bob said. “There are what I call scheduled deaths and unscheduled deaths.”

  “You mean, you don’t hear God’s voice?”

  “If I heard voices, I’d be a crazy person.”

  “But what does that mean?”

  “What does what mean?” Bob asked, becoming a little irritated at the questions. Questions made him think of answers. Unfortunately, no one issued him answers.

  “So you don’t even know if there is a God?”

  “What do you believe?” Bob asked.

  “I want to believe that there’s some kind of plan,” Nick said, “but you don’t know.” He sounded a bit hurt. “How can I go on knowing people like you exist and not knowing if heaven does?”

  “How could you take my lack of knowledge and use it to lose your faith?” Bob asked. “
Maybe heaven is waiting. I just don’t know that. Heaven, Hell, God, and the Devil may or may not be there, but I simply play my part. It isn’t my job to judge or explain anything else.”

  “So what do you think?” Nick asked.

  “I think you should hold true to your faith,” Bob answered. “In the end, it’s all you can leave with.”

  “How long have you been doing ... what you do?”

  “Long as I can remember; almost 340 years.”

  Nick brought his beer to his lips, but he put it down before taking another drink. He got up, popped open another beer, and put it in front of Bob. “You don’t remember anything else?”

  Bob decided to take a drink. “No. To my knowledge, I never had a childhood or parents. I was here with a job to do.”

  “Then you might be an angel?” Nick asked.

  “If there are angels, I imagine they know a lot more about any grand design than I do,” Bob replied.

  “But it’s a possibility? Because you weren’t human before.”

  “I don’t know if I was anything before or not, but I’ll admit there’s a chance.”

  “You’ve never seen—what did you call them—a Journeyman retire?”

  “No.”

  “Must be sad.” They both chose that moment to take another drink. Bob was glad to have something to delay more questions.

  “For some, I try to make opportunities from it,” Bob said. “You can’t tell anyone you know.”

  “I know. Just promise me something,” Nick said to change the subject.

  “I can’t do any such thing, but I will try,” Bob said. He owed Nick that much. He’d found a new way of life from working with the Taylors. He’d decided to be more than some intruder. They had taught him how, and he owed them for it.

  “Promise me you won’t come for my grandson for a very long time,” Nick said. There was no begging in his eyes. He shed no tears. He was a man asking a friend for a favor. The problem was that he was asking death not to come, as if he was asking someone to remember to change a load of laundry.

  “I can’t do that,” Bob said.