Paul Kohler - The Borrowed Souls, A Novel

“Just like that?”

“Yep, just like that.”

“Where should we go? I’m not sure I’m ready to collect the soul yet.”

“There’s no rush. The soul will be there whenever you’re ready, granted that you don’t take too long. Just pick a place. Make it your new home base, per se.”

“Home base?”

“Yeah, kind of like a security blanket. It’ll be your place to go that will always be there whenever you need to get away from it all, or to just be alone.”

I paced around the living room, thinking about various places that I could jump to. Most of them had some trace of Cyndi’s memory. I dismissed those and moved on to the next place in my mind. After a few moments of pondering, I knew right where I would be going.

I smiled at Hauser and vanished from the room.

When I appeared next to the bench, I momentarily expected to see Wilson staring off into the ether, but that was just wishful thinking.

I sat down and wondered if Hauser would follow me directly or if he would give me time to truly find my own place. I had my answer the moment I leaned back and crossed my leg, as Hauser materialized right next to me. He sat in a mimicking fashion. I looked at him, noting his state of complete relaxation, and wondered how he could be so cavalier about what we do. As I continued to stare, he noticed me.

“What?” he asked.

“It’s nothing,” I lied. It didn’t feel right questioning his logic, seeing as he was going to be my trainer for the foreseeable future. “How is it that you knew where I would go?”

“Oh, it’s not that difficult. I knew you wouldn’t go to your place of employment, because I’ve already seen that video. You’ve already been to the bar, and you just left your apartment so…”

“Am I that predictable?” I asked.

Hauser chuckled. “Nah, kid. I had help.”

Hauser withdrew an antique monocle tucked into his shirt. It was attached to a lengthy bronze chain slung around his neck.

“This little gizmo helps me track other soul collectors as they jump from place to place. Every time you vanish from one place and materialize in another, you leave a faint trail, invisible to the naked eye. If I put this up to my eye, I can follow along. But only if I catch the scent quickly enough,” Hauser explained.

“Is that how you knew I was at Jake’s?” I asked.

“Yeah, sort of. I’ve been following you around all week, and knew you’d turn up there sooner or later. I was already there when you popped in.”

“What, you’ve been following me?” I asked, feeling a little violated.

“But of course. You’re the new kid on the block, and it’s kind of my job to keep you in line,” Hauser said. “So why this place? Is it because of Wilson?”

I looked at the advertisement for my apartment building plastered on the billboard across the street and pondered that very question. “I don’t know. I guess it’s probably something to do with him. It’s funny, I only knew the guy for thirty minutes, but I feel so connected to him. I can’t explain it.”

“Wilson will be missed, that’s for sure. He had a… a way of talking to people that made them feel special.” Hauser paused. “And for the record, I’m not at all knocking your choice of this here park bench as your special place. You should see mine,” Hauser chuckled.

“Okay, I’m intrigued. What is your place, or where is it?”

“Nuh-uh, compadre. Like I said, you’re the new kid, and not too many people know where my secret hideout is,” he said with a wink.

I nodded, even more interested to find out where it is that he goes.

Several minutes passed as we sat in silence. I had a million questions for Hauser, but I didn’t want to flood him with them all at once. Before I had a chance to ask one, Hauser spoke.

“So listen, sport. We both know that it’s been a few weeks since you got your last box. I think it’s about time you stop ignoring your responsibilities.”

“I’m not ignoring them. It’s just that I need some time, you know.”

“And that’s fine, some of the past collectors needed more time than you to get started, and some much less. But you have to realize that when you agreed to become a soul collector, you agreed to maintain the stream of soul boxes that come to you. There is only so much time before any one individual box can go before it needs to be filled,” Hauser said.

“How much time do I have?” I asked.

Hauser shrugged his shoulders. “You know, each soul is a little different. I’ve seen soul boxes fill nearly instantaneously, and I’ve seen some go along for months without being filled.”

“How do you know that my current box isn’t one of those? One of the long-term jobs?”

“Ahh, you got me there. But unless you at least attempt the collection, we’ll never know, now will we? Besides, the members of the Sentinel will not remain patient forever.”

“The Sentinel? Is that like God’s minions or something?” I asked jokingly.

“Nah, it’s got nothing to do with God. He’s around, but he’s got more important things to deal with. Let’s just say the Sentinel are our employers and leave it at that,” Hauser said with finality, his eyes darting around as he shivered slightly.

As I contemplated this new bit of cryptic information, Hauser pulled out a pocket watch that was quite peculiar. Its face had no numbers. Instead, I could see faint images around its perimeter. After a moment of looking at it, he clicked it closed, returned it to his pocket, and stood up.

“Listen, kid, I’m going to cut you a little slack, but not too much. I know you’re full of questions, and we’ll get to all of them in good time. But for now, do me a favor. Go visit your intended mark. For all we know, she’s ripe for the picking.”

I stood up to follow Hauser and asked, “But aren’t you going with me?”

“I’ve got someplace I need to be right now, but I’ll meet up with you at the hospital shortly. I’ll only be a few minutes—a half hour tops,” he said before vanishing.

Instinctively I looked at my wrist for the time and realized for the hundredth time that I’d forgotten to put on a watch. I looked up into the sky to see where the sun was, hoping it would give me a clue as to the time of day. In the small park nestled at the center of the city, the buildings prevented me from seeing the sun directly. My best guess was that it was midafternoon by the warm temperature around me.

I withdrew the box from my pocket and read the name aloud—“Abigail Whitaker”—but nothing happened. I didn’t beam to her hospital bedside. Convinced that something was wrong, I shook the box and tried it again. “Abigail Whitaker.” Nothing.

Still holding the box, I sat back on the park bench and thought through some of Hauser’s words. Actually, only two words were occupying my mind. The Sentinel . Who were they, and why did Hauser clam up when I asked about them? If I didn’t know any better, I’d think Hauser was a little afraid of them. I wondered if Wilson had ever met any of the Sentinel himself or if Hauser was the only one that had any dealings with them. Like a go-between guy.

Then there were other oddities that piqued my curiosity. The monocle and his pocket watch. I wondered how many of these kind of special items existed for the soul collector’s job. Personally, I had two. I was familiar with the function of the coin, but I still didn’t know what the rosary did, or if it even had an ability.

The longer I sat on the bench, contemplating the ever-increasing list of questions, the more I knew that if I wasn’t at the hospital when Hauser got through with whatever it was he was doing, things would not look good for me. I did my best to push everything from my mind and only think about the hospital where Abigail Whitaker lay dying. A moment later I disappeared from the park bench.