“Push, Cyndi. Push now.”
Cyndi squeezed my hand and cried out in pain. She pushed hard, and within seconds, she exhaled loudly.
“Good job, but we’re not through yet. I need you to bear down once more, and push with all your might. I promise, Cyndi, this is it. The pain will be over shortly.”
Cyndi took in several deep breaths and pushed our baby into the world. Her final scream echoed through the room, then there was silence.
The silence was quickly replaced with the faint cries of the newborn baby in the doctor’s hands.
“Congratulations, Cyndi and Jack, you have a healthy baby boy,” the doctor said.
Tears of joy flowed from my eyes. I looked down at Cyndi. She cried as well, but for a much more painful reason.
“You did it, baby. You’ve given us a son,” I said and kissed her warmly.
A moment later, the doctor interrupted our embrace.
“Jack, I need the box. Could you hand it to me?” asked the doctor.
“Box? What do you mean? Didn’t you just tell me that he was healthy?”
The doctor sat up straight, still cradling our child in one arm, and removed a mask with his free hand. Instant recognition overcame me as I saw the face of Enoch Gant.
“What the hell?” I asked.
“I need your box, Jack. This soul needs to be collected, and a collection will be made.”
“I will not. Just hand me my son, and you can go to hell,” I said.
Enoch tilted his head back and laughed out loud. “The only way you’ll hold your son is after I’ve removed his soul.”
Cyndi’s cries turned in to screams of fear. I released her hand and took a step toward Enoch and our newborn son.
“Give me my son, dammit,” I demanded.
Enoch backed up slowly, turning our son toward us. Seeing him for the first time made my knees weak. I could see that he was warming up slowly, his flesh turning pink by the minute. He looked healthy. Normal. Then, he opened his eyes and stared directly at me. They were not baby blue as I expected, but were black, black as coal. A moment later the child smiled widely, opening his mouth and bearing a full rack of teeth, each one sharpened to a point. Suddenly the child began to giggle. Within seconds, the giggle turned into a full-on growling laugh. I jumped back, repulsed by what I saw. Enoch grinned at my reaction.
“You see, Jack, this baby is not yours. Never was. He’s a product of the devil, and your only option in the matter is to release his soul to me.” Then, both Enoch and the baby’s cackling laughs joined in unison, causing Cyndi and me to scream in terror.
I lurched forward, raising my hands and aiming for Enoch’s neck. Before I reached him, the room went dark.
I bolted upright, unaware of my surroundings. As my eyes focused on the slowly brightening room, I remembered that I was in the old family cabin. The fire had long since burned out, and the sun was peeking through the dirty windowpanes.
I stood and stretched for the ceiling, feeling the knots in my back groan in protest. Walking past the fireplace, I headed for the front door to introduce fresh air into the musty cabin. As my hand grasped the door handle, my mind slipped back to what I had just seen. I whipped around quickly and darted for the fireplace. Inside the burnt ash sat Calvin’s soul box, completely intact. I grabbed it, noticing absolutely no blemishes on the surface of the collection chamber.
“Son of a bitch,” I said. My mind raced at how else I could destroy the box. I rushed to the closet and rummaged through an old wooden toolbox until I found what I was looking for. I retrieved a five-pound sledgehammer from the very bottom of the box and grinned as I hoisted it from its resting place. Returning to the kitchen, I placed the soul box on the butcher-block counter and raised the sledge above my head. With all my might, I brought the head of the hammer down as hard as I could, driving it into the top of the soul box. The painful sensation that shot up through my arm and into my shoulder caused me to cry out.
“AHHH!”
As I regained my composure, I picked up the dropped hammer and laid it on the countertop next to the box. The undamaged box.
“Well, this might be more difficult than it seems,” I said. At that moment, my next brilliant idea hit me like a ton of bricks. I returned to the closet and retrieved a spool of bailing wire. I rushed back to the counter and slowly, methodically, wrapped wire around the box and the handle of the sledge. Once that was complete, I gleefully grabbed the handle of the hammer and walked out the door.
Once outside, I headed around the cabin and ducked into the forest. A well-worn trail led from the clearing around the cabin, and if my memory served me well, would open up at Lake Sweeny, a small nature pond that was a long-lost secret in these parts.
The hike was just what I needed. I remembered the stroll through the forest taking ten or fifteen minutes in the past. But as the trail faded in and out from lack of use, I was led astray a number of times. Twenty minutes later, I finally found my destination.
The spring-fed lake was calm and still at this early morning hour. The occasional ripples caused by jumping fish in the distance were the only things that broke the mirrorlike finish of the surface. I contemplated dragging the old canoe from the shed but wasn’t sure about its ability to float after so many years. I decided that I would rather test my arm strength than my sink rate.
I walked out onto the dock until I reached the edge. I stopped and looked around at the beautiful scenery. On all sides of the lake, dark green pine trees sprang from the edge, creating the perfect secluded fishing hole.
“Here goes nothing,” I said. I began to swing the hammer like a pendulum, forward and backward then forward again. After a few practice swings, I released the hammer with the soul box tightly attached to it. It flew through the air gracefully.
Kerplunk! The water splashed several feet into the air, and then calm once again returned to the lake surface.
I turned and smiled. In fact, I smiled all the way back to the cabin.
Fifteen minutes later, I stepped out from the canopy cover of the surrounding forest. I paused momentarily as I noticed the old wood shed off to the side. Even though I didn’t need to eat or drink, I had the sudden urge to fry up a beautiful lake trout for lunch. Stopping at the shed, I rummaged through the dozen or so fishing poles in the corner until I found my old favorite spinner reel. I grabbed the old tackle box and headed for the cabin to sort out the condition of the fishing gear inside.
As I stepped into the cabin, my eyes locked like a magnet onto the soul box sitting on the countertop.
“What the—” I blurted.
“You don’t think you can shrug your responsibilities that easy, do you?” Hauser asked.
Chapter 8
“How’d you find me?” I asked, trying to hide my surprise.
Hauser smiled, then pulled out a pair of vintage wire-rimmed glasses and slid them on his face. “What do you think? Does it make me look… distinguished?” he asked.
I shrugged and avoided looking at him directly. I moved to the countertop and began untying Calvin’s soul box from the sledgehammer.
“What? No comment about my new spectacles?”
“Okay, yes. You look very distinguished with your new glasses, Hauser,” I said in a monotone voice. “I suppose you’ve had those this whole time.”
“Nope. I actually have you to thank for these. If it wasn’t for your little tantrum yesterday, I’m not sure when the Sentinel would’ve actually handed them out.”