Paul Kohler - The Borrowed Souls, A Novel

“Thanks, Hauser. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to go give this bird a whirl,” I said as I twirled the rosary around my fingers.

“Knock yourself out, kid. We’ll catch up later,” Hauser said and then vanished. I straighten myself up and vanished a moment later.

Back in Noah’s apartment, the circus that I’d escaped from earlier had diminished, and the order of the house was much more akin to what I’d experienced over the previous three weeks. Ashley was reading, and the kids were playing in their rooms. Noah was on his computer, studying the screen intently. I scanned the room, looking for the Thing of Evil, a.k.a. the puppy, but he was nowhere in sight. Trusting that he was most likely in with the kids, I figured I’d better make my move quickly, before he noticed me here and began his howling tirade all over.

Stepping up to Noah, I briefly glanced at his computer screen. At first look he appeared to be on some kind of antigovernment website, but upon closer inspection, it looked to be some kind of weapons and ammo information site. Noah was a hunter? Who knew? Surprised at Noah’s choice of hobbies, I shifted my focus to the task at hand. I straightened myself, checking that the rosary was securely suspended around my neck. I took a deep breath, then placed my hand firmly on Noah’s head. The moment my fingers landed upon his tightly cut hair, a warming sensation shot up through my hand and into my body. A momentary instinct to release my grasp crossed my mind, but I held fast. I wanted to do this, needed to see for myself what lay ahead for Noah.

As I stood next to him, my hand melding with his soul, the room started to darken around me. I blinked several times, trying to determine whether it was my own vision faltering or if it was my surroundings changing abruptly. Looking about, I felt as if it were a combination of both, and there was no stopping it. I let it run its course, my hand firmly resting on Noah’s head. Then, suddenly, Noah and I were ripped from the apartment and carried through time and space to what appeared to be an urban battleground.

I began to walk around, trying to discover exactly where we had gone. Unfortunately, nothing looked familiar. We were outside, and Noah wasn’t alone. He was lying on the ground, holding some kind of foreign assault rifle. Well, it was foreign to me at least. He was dressed in army-green fatigues, as was his companion. The two lay behind some form of barricade, staring down the barrel of their weapons.

“Do you see Harvey? He should have made it to the safe zone by now,” Noah said.

“Affirmative. He just entered the facility. Now we wait. We’ll know if the trade was all worth it shortly,” replied Noah’s companion.

“All right. Hold this position while I work my way around their flank. If you see a shot, take it. Even if it means that Harvey is hit, it’ll be collateral damage. We both know that their leader will never go for a fair exchange. If I’m on the other side when all hell breaks loose, I’ll at least have a chance to grab the box in the confusion,” Noah said as he rolled to his side and began a low crawl down the left side of the barricade.

As soon as Noah was out of sight, I tried to make sense of what the hell was happening. I’d have known if Noah was in some reserve division of the military by something around the apartment or by a conversation, but I recalled nothing. Maybe he was involved in some kind of militia, and this is where he’d lose his life. Intrigued, I chased after Noah with no concern for my own concealment.

Once around the side of the barricade, I was surprised to see that Noah had made it halfway down the outer edge of the surrounding field. His spiderlike moves were awe-inspiring. I trotted to catch up to him, and as I did, I could see the safe zone that he’d referred to earlier. It was a relatively small cube-shaped structure about twenty yards from our position. Around the base of the building was a four-foot perimeter marked in yellow paint on the ground. Outside that perimeter there was open ground for at least twenty feet in all directions. There was no sneaking up on the place. There was a single door on the adjacent wall, and it was closed. There were no windows that I could see.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement on the opposite side of the safe house. It appeared to be another soldier dressed in brown camouflage-style clothing. He also wore a helmet and carried a rifle. I moved closer and saw that he wasn’t alone. He was followed by at least three more brown-clothed troops.

“Shit!” I yelled. It was a trap. Had to be. I looked back at Noah, and just as I did, he rose up slightly to get a better view of the central safe house. Unfortunately for him, his low stance prohibited him from seeing the opposing forces working their way directly toward him.

Just then, his companion whistled a soft bird call. Noah nodded and motioned his buddy to move along the opposite side. They were going in. I knew I couldn’t do a thing, so a leaned against a large tree trunk. As I did so, I noticed a green slime coating the entire tree base. I knew it was there and was most likely sticky, but I didn’t move. I was in a future dream of some sort, and it wasn’t real to me.

Refocusing my attention on Noah, I saw he’d moved an additional fifteen feet up the side flank and was about to make a huge mistake. I leaned forward anxiously as he rose up slightly. The enemy soldiers fired the first shot. It flew high and to the right, and Noah returned fire. Several shots perforated the shrubbery on the far side of the safe zone. With his finger off the trigger, he rose once more to see if he had actually hit any of the enemy. But just as his head peeked above his own foliage barricade, a single shot flew right toward him. It landed on its mark, directly in the center of Noah’s forehead. If it hadn’t been for the plastic face shield, Noah’s face would have been completely covered in paintball goo.

Noah stood in protest and a barrage of shots flew in his direction, peppering his body with all shades of paint. Green, yellow, orange. I could hear Noah whimper slightly at the stings as he was decimated by the hits. So much for capturing his soul tomorrow, I thought.

Disappointed with the outcome of my first trip into the future, I decided to return to his apartment. I thought about my hand resting on Noah’s head back in his apartment and envisioned me lifting it slightly. As I did so, I felt like I was being yanked backward, and before I could catch my balance, I blacked out momentarily.

When I came to, I was standing in Noah’s apartment, alone. Noah was no longer at his desk, and the computer screen was now dark. I moved back into the living room and found Ashley fast asleep on the couch. Everyone else was gone, including the dog. I concluded that Noah and the kids must have taken him for a walk in the park. Knowing what the next twenty-four hours had in store, I didn’t feel the need to follow along with Noah’s every move, so I thought of my park bench and vanished.

I wasn’t terribly surprised to find Hauser sitting on the bench when I appeared. He was reading a book, and by his facial expressions it must have been some gripping tale. I sat quietly next to him, not wanting to interrupt his concentration, but when it appeared that he didn’t even realize that I was back, I cleared my throat. His focus remained on the printed words, but he held up a solitary finger in my direction, asking for a moment. I gave him two.

“And, done!” Hauser declared as he snapped the book shut.

“What are you reading?” I asked.

“This, my friend, is The Origin of Species . Have you heard of it?”

“Um, yeah. I’m sure it was required reading back in college. Darwin, right?”