“And who makes that determination?” I asked.
“Neither you nor I have any control of those souls. They are simply undecided—a decision based on the individual at the time of death, or impending death, rather. Take your soul, for example. If I’d been your soul collector, your soul would have flashed the majority of the day leading up to your collection. Suicide is the biggest unknown in our profession.”
Being reminded of my selfish act once again, I lowered my head in disgrace. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.”
Wanting to change the subject, I took Hauser’s watch and held it at arm’s length as I slowly spun around. “It looks like there is a soul that is bright and close to the center,” I said. I turned toward the long hallway. “And it appears to be just up ahead.” I handed the pocket watch back to Hauser, who verified my assumption.
“Lead the way, Skipper,” Hauser said, handing the watch back to me once again.
I walked down the hallway slowly, holding the open pocket watch out in front of us. Like Hauser said, the closer we got to the soul, the brighter the dot became, and all the other souls on the dial began to slide off the edge. It was as if the radar was zooming in to the soul the closer we got to it. When the soul was practically at the center of the dial, we stopped. I gradually swung my arm around in an arc. As I did so, the dot near the center circled around the dial, returning back to the center as I faced room 228.
“I think he’s in here,” I said.
I stepped toward the door and reviewed the medical chart hanging just outside. The name on the chart was Penelope Rose, and the baby’s gender was male. I sighed and stepped into the room.
Once inside, it was clear that we were not in an ordinary birthing room. It was far more sterile and bland compared to the soothing colors and comfort level of the previous birthing rooms. Besides Hauser and me, the mother, Penelope, was alone. As we neared the edge of the bed, her face came into view. It was contorted, as if she’d been suffering the pains of contractions. Her eyes were closed and her entire face perspired.
“Well, no birth yet,” I said to Hauser.
A second later Penelope opened her eyes and stared directly at me. “What, what did you just say?” she asked.
I was shocked to hear her address me and quickly glanced at Hauser for direction. He promptly pulled out his pocket watch to review, then shrugged but said nothing.
“I am… sorry, but you can hear me?”
“Of course I can fucking hear you. You’re standing right next to me,” she snapped angrily.
“I… I’m sorry, I thought I was… speaking in a quieter tone,” I lied.
“Well, either speak up or get out!” she bellowed.
“I apologize,” Hauser said. “We’re just making rounds, and my colleague here was expecting a birth in this room any moment.”
“Well, do you see a goddamn baby?”
“No, you’re quite right. Please forgive the intrusion,” Hauser said as he tugged on my arm to retreat.
As we approached the door, a doctor and several nurses walked in. One of the nurses stepped up to Penelope’s bedside and began to review her vital statistics. Meanwhile, the doctor wheeled up a small stool at the foot of the bed.
“And how are we doing today, Penelope?” The doctor asked.
“How the hell do you think I’m doing?” she barked. “I’m nine months pregnant and in pain.”
The doctor smiled briefly before continuing. “Well, let’s see if we can fix that, shall we? Let me check your dilation and see where we stand.” The doctor lifted the end of the bedsheet and slid his gloved hand beneath. As he reached deep under the covers, Penelope squirmed uncomfortably. A moment later the doctor withdrew.
“Well, unfortunately, your dilation has stalled. Right now our only viable option is to perform a Cesarean section. Are you familiar with the procedure?”
Hauser and I remained at the edge of the room, just out of Penelope’s sight. Hauser withdrew his pocket watch and reviewed its face. A look of confusion filled his eyes as he tilted the dial to me. At the center of the watch, there were two distinct glowing dots. One burned solid, while the other flashed on and off. I looked at Hauser and raised an eyebrow. He returned my quizzical look and repocketed his watch.
As the doctor explained the surgical procedure to Penelope, she began to cry. He tried to soothe her, assuring her that although it was not common practice, it does happen in about thirty percent of all childbirths, and that she would be awake for the entire procedure. Penelope nodded slowly.
“If you’d like, your spouse can still be in the operating room for the birth,” said the doctor.
“No. There is no father. It’s just me,” Penelope said softly.
“All right then. Nurse Perry here will prep you, then wheel you down to the OR.” Hauser and I jumped into the corridor before the doctor made his exit.
“Well, how fortunate for us,” Hauser said.
“How do you mean?”
“The C-section will make this soul collection much easier on everyone. Because Penelope will be on some fairly heavy anesthesia, she’ll be slower to react to the death of her child than if she gave birth naturally.”
“That makes sense, but how does that make it easier on us? We’re still collecting the soul from a newborn baby.”
“Unfortunately, that’s unavoidable, but it will make it easier on us not having to witness the mom react as emotionally, otherwise.”
I nodded. “I guess you have a point there.”
“Now let’s go find some scrubs so we can blend in while in the operating room. If Penelope is in flux, we don’t necessarily want to alarm her by being the only two plainclothed men in the OR.”
Chapter 12
We had little difficulty finding the supply room, but the procedure was still halfway done by the time Hauser and I entered the operating room. Penelope lay with her head away from the door, an anesthesiologist right next to her ear. Penelope’s arm was extended out to the side and was strapped to a padded board. Multiple IVs were taped along her arm. She was awake but groggy.
On either side of her abdomen stood a doctor and a nurse. As Hauser and I approached, I mistakenly glanced down at the point of incision and nearly lost my lunch. Sitting on top of her chest were half of Penelope’s internal organs. Having never witnessed an open operation before, I felt a little light headed. Instinctively, I turned my back to the doctor and focused on Penelope’s face. Otherwise I was certain to pass out.
If it wasn’t for the mask covering Hauser’s face, I would have sworn he was grinning at my wooziness.
I looked down at Penelope, and she returned my gaze. She blinked her eyes slowly then shifted her focus to Hauser before returning them back to me. I nodded reassuringly, and she smiled. Quite the contrast to her behavior earlier.
Moments later, the doctor spoke. “Penelope? Can you hear me?”
“Yyyess,” she slurred.
“Congratulations, Penelope, you have a son. Have you selected a name yet?” asked the doctor.
Maintaining my focus on Penelope, she nodded her head almost imperceptibly. “B-B-Blake,” Penelope stuttered.
As the nurse took the baby to the cleanup station at the side of the room, panic engulfed me. I quickly withdrew the soul box to read the name. Blake was not on the box. Calvin still was engraved clearly. As I showed the box to Hauser, he once again retrieved his pocket watch, flipping it open for both of us to see. It was apparent that the soul to be collected just moved to the far side of the room. A dot still flashed at Penelope’s location.