“Well, then what’s our next step? I still have their soul boxes,” I said, pulling them from my pocket.
Hauser took them from me and held them out in front of us so that we could see the names. Luke Holloway and Meghan Sharp still was etched on each of the boxes.
“Curious. I would’ve thought that once the soul magnet took their souls, your boxes would re-etch with new names.”
“Well, it doesn’t appear to have happened that way. Can’t you use one of your devices and go after Enoch? Maybe we can still get those souls from his soul magnet thingy.”
“No, I’ve chased after him in the past, and he’s wise to the maneuver. He instinctively jumps to locations that would leave a follower in a precarious situation. There have been a number of times that I nearly died following him. So, no, we can’t go after him. Not now.”
“So, we can die again?” I asked, fearing for my own mortality.
“In an abstract sense, yes. We really never actually died, you see. We just left the life of the living, breathing population. So, yes, you should fear for your own mortality, because it is still just as fragile.”
“Then what’s next?”
“Well, my friend, I think we have no other choice than to finally introduce you to the Sentinel. Maybe they can give us some kind insight on the situation.”
“Oh. Oh my. I… I’m not sure how I feel about that. Won’t they be a little upset with me for avoiding the collection of these two, especially after my previous indiscretions?”
“You can’t worry about that, Jack. There are far more important things that are on their minds, I’m sure.”
“You’re the boss,” I said nervously. “Lead the way.”
Hauser stepped to my side and held his arm out level with the ground. “Take my arm, Jack. Take my arm, and clear your mind of all thoughts. You’re just along for the ride.”
I did as he said, forcing every possible thought away. When all that was left was Hauser and me, we vanished from the cabin.
The Surrogate Soul
Chapter 1
I was enveloped in total blackness. A shade so dark that only moments before I didn’t even know existed. It was calming and disturbing at the same time. In the far distance, I heard a faint hum. It was almost imperceptible. But, as the hum got louder, so did my senses sharpen. Before I knew it, the hum had developed into a full blown shriek. The blaring of a car horn woke me from my deep unconscious sleep, causing my heart rate to increase rapidly. I sprang to my feet and rubbed the blurriness from my eyes.
As I stood, dizziness instantly overwhelmed me and I nearly fell backward. I grabbed at the back of the bench to steady myself. I looked around. I focused on the park bench for which gave me stability and expected to find the surroundings of my old park bench in New York. But, I recognized nothing. I stood in the middle of a large cobblestone pavilion, pedestrians milling about all around me. The two drive lanes to my left and right were vacant, save for a white bus that was driving away from me in the far distance. Taking in the building façade surrounding the plaza, I tried to remember if I’d seen any of it before. Unfortunately, nothing looked remotely familiar.
“Where the hell am I?” I mumbled to myself.
I looked at my watch but the second hand had stopped. I shook my wrist a few times to activate the automatic winder, and the seconds once more began to tick away. As I watched the rhythmic mechanical movement, I remembered that automatic watches such as mine would stop ticking after twenty-four to thirty-six hours of inactivity. Had I actually been unconscious for more than a day, on a bench in an unknown city?
I tried to recall my last clear memory. Hauser and I had been about to leave my cabin. Enoch had just killed the last two souls I’d been assigned to collect. I remember Hauser telling me that it was time to… to do something. I just couldn’t remember what.
A sudden pressure assaulted my inner ears. It felt as if my head would explode. I shut my eyes tightly and rubbed the sides of my temples to help soothe the pain. When was the last time that I had actually had a headache? I couldn’t remember having one since I’d entered the afterlife.
As the throbbing pain slowly ebbed, I opened my eyes, but the wooziness remained. I scratched at the back of my head absently as another sharp pain shot through my body. I pulled my hand away, and the tips of my fingers were covered with some kind of red residue.
“Holy shit,” I gasped. Gingerly, I touched the spot on my head and found an enormous knot—my hair crusted over with blood.
I decided to do a quick check of my own mental facilities.
Who am I? I’m Jack Duffy.
What do I do? I’m a soul collector in the afterlife.
How did I become a soul collector? I tried to kill myself and only moderately succeeded.
Do I have any family or friends? My parents had passed away years ago. My wife died shortly after I left the living. As for friends, I had only one true friend. Hauser. Hauser… what? Did Hauser have a last name?
Where are you? I’m not sure.
Why are you here? I don’t know that either.
An old Camus quote came to mind. It went something like this: To know oneself, one should assert oneself.
So, action it was. I began to walk through the unknown place. Is this just another part of my hometown? Possibly, but the architecture was different, and the smell was unique. I could smell fresh air like I’d not experienced in quite some time. No, I was not in New York. I was someplace… different.
I thought about jumping to my cabin, to a place that was familiar to me, but decided against it. What if I was supposed to be here? What if Hauser was nearby and I left without saying a word? Wherever I was, there must have been a reason for me being here. I decided to continue walking through the pavilion with hopes that I might figure out where I was.
As I neared the end of the block, I found myself standing at the corner of Sixteenth Street and Champa Street. Champa doesn’t sound remotely familiar.
I stopped at the corner, looking up and down the cross street, and saw mountains near the horizon. My God, where the hell am I?
Ding, ding. Ding, ding.
The sound echoed between the buildings. Startled, I looked over my shoulder and saw another white bus with the words The Ride, Denver’s Free Shuttle plastered along the side.
“Huh, so I’m in Denver,” I said.
“That’s very astute, Jack,” came a voice from behind me. A voice that I instantly recognized and one that I would never forget. I spun around and found Wilson Oliver smiling at me.
Chapter 2
It took me nearly a full minute of staring into Wilson’s seasoned eyes to realize that he was in fact standing in front of me. “My God, Wilson. Is it really you?” I asked.
He bobbed his head slowly, maintaining eye contact. “It is I, but honestly, Jack, it hasn’t been that long since we last spoke.”
“Sure it has. It’s been what? Almost six months?” I asked.
“Funny thing, time. For some it passes at a snail’s pace, while for others… well, let’s just say that I remember seeing you as if it were just days ago,” Wilson said.