Paul Kohler - The Borrowed Souls, A Novel

Why does he keep telling me I’m trying to play God when all I want to do is save a soul, I wondered.

Why can’t he just get it through his thick head? This child’s soul is not worth the agony and potential sacrifice of something far greater. If he could just only understand that—

“How can you say that, Hauser? How can you say that his soul is not worth a damn?”

Hauser’s eyebrow arched slightly and he fidgeted nervously with his hands. “I’m sorry, Jack. I’m usually more in control of my thoughts. You were not meant to hear that. The good news is that it appears that you are developing your ability to read thoughts. Or is it all too late for that?”

“Hauser, there is no good news about this entire fucked-up situation. Having this new ability is not my consolation prize for having to take the soul of an innocent child.”

“No, I never said it was.”

“But you certainly implied it. And maybe it is too late. I’m not sure if I want to continue this… this heartless job.”

“What are you saying, Jack? Are you gonna quit on me?”

I rose up from the bench and stood directly in front of Hauser. I looked down on him blankly. “Yeah, I guess I’m done. This isn’t what I signed up for.”

“Well, sport I have news for you: you just can’t quit. You have an impending soul collection, and until that contract is filled, you’re on the clock.”

“Fine. If that’s the way it is, then so be it. I will just give my soul in place of Calvin’s. That way, everybody’s happy. I’ve saved a child’s soul, and I am no longer a pain in your side.”

Hauser laughed. “Jack, you surprise me. One moment you show utter brilliance and then the next you spew out shit like that. Think about it, man. You can’t give your soul away to an infant child that can’t even walk or talk yet.”

“Why does that matter? I’m allowing this baby to live.”

“Don’t be daft. You know very well that if you give your soul in his place, he will become the next soul collector. How can he do so if he can’t communicate with the dying people that he’s there to collect from? That’s not an acceptable option. Try again.”

“Well, then I guess we’re at an impasse. I’m not going to take his soul, and there’s nothing you can do to change my mind,” I said, sliding my hand into my pocket and gripping Calvin’s soul box firmly.

“Jack, I’m very disappointed in you. I had hoped that you would be able to see through this and move forward. But I see you’re not leaving me, or the Sentinel, any choice. Hand over the box and I will collect the soul myself. Meanwhile, you will have to report to the Sentinel for disciplinary action.” Hauser held his hand out expectantly.

I maintained the grip on my box and took a step backward. “There’s not a chance in hell that I give you this box,” I said.

Then I vanished.

When I landed, I was not standing at the destination I had imagined. Instead I stood in a stairwell that twisted and curved up at a precarious angle. The passageway was tight, and the surface of the walls around me were equally bizarre. Having lived in New York for most of my life, it didn’t take me long to realize exactly where I stood.

I began to climb the worn steel treads up to the observation platform inside the head of the Statue of Liberty. I wasn’t too far off from where I’d imagined my destination to be. I’d initially thought about the immigration building on Ellis Island, which was a short five-minute ferry ride away. But as I weaved myself through the scattering of tourists trying to get a view of New York, I decided that this was actually a better destination after all.

As I leaned into the opening to catch a view of the city for myself, the voice behind me killed my buzz.

“You know, Jack, you can run, but you can’t hide,” Hauser said as he twirled his monocle around his finger.

“Jesus, Hauser. Why can’t you just let me be? I’ve already given you my decision. I quit.”

“That’s fine, pal. Just hand over the box and you can go on your merry way. I’m sure with your current mindset, Enoch can guide you the rest of the way,” Hauser blurted.

Startled at hearing the name from my dreams, I wondered what he meant by it.

“And like I said, nobody will be collecting Calvin’s soul. Not if I can stand it. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” I said before disappearing once again.

This time when I reappeared, I stood in front of one of the more than twenty entries leading into the grand bazaar in Istanbul, Turkey.

“Good luck finding me here, chump,” I said aloud. I took a few steps through the first entryway before I vanished once again.

I continued to jump and land at another of the dozen or so entries, pausing just long enough to leave a faint trace before landing at the center of the site. Where I stood, several hallways met beneath a white domed ceiling. As I gazed down each passageway, determining my best route out of the bazaar, Hauser’s familiar voice once again invaded my head.

“You know, I can do this all day long. Shall we just stop this nonsense?” he asked.

Overwhelmed with frustration, I squeezed my fists, driving my fingernails into the palms of my hands, before I vanished without another word.

I landed in the middle of the most tourist-laden place on earth—Times Square. From my vantage point, I could see no fewer than two Spidermen, one Batman, three Elmos, and one cowboy playing the guitar in his underwear. I smiled at the melting pot of oddity that was my hometown. Before Hauser could track my scent, I disappeared once again, and headed for another faraway land.

When I landed, I looked around at my surroundings, unsure of where I would be. I’d simply thought of an exotic location that I had not been to before. Who knew that the Parthenon in Athens, Greece, would be my destination? Without a second thought, I vanished from the base of the Parthenon and materialized at the tallest peak of the structure. I slowly eased myself down and sat with my legs dangling over the edge. From my new position, I could see the entire city of Athens, surrounded by water at the far reaches of my sight. As I took in the beautiful scenery, I wondered if Hauser would continue to follow me, and whether or not I would ever be able to escape his reach. As the seconds turned to minutes, I waited. I anticipated yet another interaction that I knew deep inside would be inevitable.

After fifteen minutes of solitude, I began to think that I might have actually done it. I’d finally gotten away from Hauser and his unreasonable expectations. Then, suddenly, I felt his presence.

“Are you kidding me?” I gasped.

Before Hauser had a chance to reply, I left Greece, my destination unknown.

I continued to jump and land at several nondescript locations in an effort to flee from Hauser’s grasp. Each new location was far from the last in both position and scenery. A cornfield in Illinois, a mountainside in the Andes, a city park in Paris. On what I hoped would be one of my final transports, I landed in the midst of thin, wintry air. All around me were great plains of ice. I took a moment to consider my latest destination and realized I should’ve grabbed a jacket first. If I planned to be in the Antarctic for any period of time, I would certainly freeze to death.

Before I could let that thought sink in, I began to jump from ice cliff to ice cliff. With each new jump, I came closer to the frigid oceans surrounding my location. Feeling fairly confident that I had eluded Hauser for the time being, I quickly jumped back to New York and into a department store to grab a parka before returning to the exact spot on the ice shelf to wait. I donned the coat, lowered myself down, and sat in silence. I was amazed at just how quiet it really was. I’d always imagined that a place such as this would be bombarded with windstorms whistling across the frozen ground.