Paul Kohler - The Borrowed Souls, A Novel

“Jack, please remember that when I sacrificed my soul for the sake of you living on, you accepted that responsibility to the Sentinel. And they will hold you to it. I’m sure Hauser has expressed that before.”

I nodded but bit my tongue to keep from saying something I might regret.

“All I’m asking is for you to complete this assignment and move on to the next. I promise you this, your next assignment will not be as difficult.”

“How can you promise that?” I asked, doing my best to corral my venomous tone.

“Because, Jack, I am going to be your new trainer. And as such—”

“Wait, what? My trainer? Hauser isn’t even gone for a single day and they appoint you to be my new trainer? And I thought my training was over. At least that’s what Hauser said.”

Wilson nodded in agreement. “Yes, that’s correct. Hauser did submit that your training had been completed in an acceptable fashion. But with the recent events, namely you divulging that you’ve avoided a number of assignments, the Sentinel feels it best that your training be extended indefinitely.”

“I can’t believe this, Wilson. Don’t they know what it’s like? Have any of those yahoos up there—which I don’t entirely understand where up there is, ever had to collect the soul from an infant child? From an innocent man on a walk through the park with his daughter? From a girl that’s so depressed that she feels that she needs to take her own life? I’m really starting to believe that nobody on this high council has a soul of their own.”

“I understand that you’re upset, Jack, but we feel that this is the best solution at the moment. I will continue to urge them to suspend your training, but you have to meet me halfway. Let’s get through this next collection first, and then we’ll see. Can you do that for me? Can you just get through this next step?”

By this point in the conversation, I was listening to Wilson talk but couldn’t hear a word he said. I’d made my decision, and my soul be damned for my efforts.

“Okay, Wilson. I’ll do it. Can I at least get a few days to track her and try to unexplain some of the things that I’ve already told her?”

“I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised at the ease of this particular collection, Jack. First of all, she is most likely back at her apartment by now, and as for timing, please do take as much time as you need. I will personally cover for you with the Sentinel. You may think that they’re a bunch of soulless overlords, but they do have compassion deep down.”

“So, that’s it? Just get back to work? Will you be accompanying me on this collection?”

“No, I am not going to be in the field as often as Hauser was. For the most part, you’ll be on your own, but I will be in to check up on you from time to time.”

Hearing that news was the brightest part of the conversation, and I thanked God for small miracles.

“One more thing, Jack. Your ability to interact with the living has been revoked as well. It was temporary, so that should come as no surprise,” Wilson said.

“Oh well, it was nice while it lasted,” I said.

“Yes. I suppose it was.” Wilson stood to leave. “Anyway, Jack, I wish you luck with Penelope. And try not to dwell on the loss of Hauser. It will lead you nowhere.”

From my seat in the pavilion, I watched Wilson casually amble down the sidewalk and enter the main floor lobby of Daniels and Fisher tower. Sounds of the afternoon traffic echoed between the various mile-high city buildings. As I sat alone, I contemplated everything that had happened since my first fateful conversation with Wilson all those months ago. It felt as if I’d lived a lifetime in those six months. And now, the distinct possibility that Hauser, the one person that I’d come to trust and care for deeply, was dead or missing did not settle well with my thoughts of the future.

“Hauser, my friend, I hope that you are in a better place now,” I mumbled aloud. “I can only imagine living as long as you have, suffering through the internal torment that you’ve had to deal with, must have been tough. I hope now you are in a place that you can now breathe freely.”

Not wanting to get too wrapped up in sentimental bullshit, I sighed and thought about Penny and her impending soul collection. As much as I was not looking forward to what needed to be done, I stood defiantly. I took in one final view of the Denver skyline, backdropped by the Rocky Mountains. Then I vanished.

Recalling Penny’s personal information from an earlier conversation with Hauser, I was able to land at her apartment door. The central hallway that fed a half dozen flats was dingy and unremarkable. A stark white piece of paper was taped to her door, covering her apartment number. “NOTICE OF EVICTION” was printed in bold black letters.

“Oh shit,” I mumbled. If Penny wasn’t depressed already, she certainly would be after seeing that.

I knocked on the door and waited a few moments. Even though she knew who I was and what I was there for, it didn’t feel right just jumping into the middle of her apartment. But when several minutes passed with no answer, I vanished from the hallway, landing on the opposite side of her door.

Her apartment was a small studio unit, with a pullout sofa to the left and a compact, utilitarian kitchen to the right. Protruding from the end of the kitchen was a small dining alcove with a café style dining table at the center. As I walked through the small space, it was clear that Penny wasn’t home.

What was equally clear was the sense of surrender flowing freely in the apartment. Dishes were piled high in the sink, and a mound of overdue bills were stacked on the countertop. In the living room, outdated magazines and newspapers were piled nearly two feet high. The only thing that seemed out of place in the chaos was the kitchen table. It was clean and clear of everything, save for a pad of paper and a pen. Lowering myself down into a chair, I read what was written:

You cops will want to know why I did it. Well, let’s just say that I know what I’m doing and it’ll be better this way for everyone.

So, yeah. I killed myself. I could no longer cope with the betrayal that life has given me. I have always felt that the grim reaper was just around the corner, waiting. And it turns out that he was. He arrived here today and I knew it was the right thing to do. So yeah.

Please tell my brother that I love him, and that he means the world to me. I think he’s in some cabin upstate somewhere. He’ll understand, I hope.

Good-bye world, it’s been real.

My first thought was that I’d failed. After everything she’d been through, I’d failed to save her soul. But on my second read through, I realized that, while the suicide note was written by Penny, these were not her words. Why would she want to apologize to her brother, whom she told me specifically had died years ago? And that reference about the grim reaper…

Suddenly, I heard the sound of splashing water coming from behind a door that I’d overlooked before. It must be the bathroom, and maybe she was taking a bath or a shower. Then I realized that she could be in there right now trying to kill herself.

I rushed to the bathroom door and twisted the handle. It wouldn’t budge. The door was locked from the other side. I pounded on the door. “Penny, it’s Jack. I’m here to…” What was I really there for? I wondered. Was I going to follow through with the Sentinel’s plan? Or was I to make yet another fateful decision, a godlike decision, to save her soul?

“I’m here to help you get through this. Penny? Can you hear me?”

She didn’t respond, but more vigorous splashing could be heard from the other side of the door.