Soul Patrol Tales

by Hospital, Damian; Vahl, Tony

  Timmy looked dapper, which was a change for him. These last few years, he had let himself go. After two divorces and countless heartbreak, the disappointments had finally conquered him; Timmy called it quits and had been selling flowers in traffic downtown. The Soul Patrol captured him easily and brought him to an undisclosed location where the Auctioneer had Timmy cleaned up and prepared to be sold on the auction block tonight.

  Like all of the property he sold, the Auctioneer advertised Timmy as a catch.

  “‘Mr. Romance’ is still but a youth,” the fast-talking salesman lied.

  Timmy was actually 29, going on 45.

  “You know folks, they say good guys are hard to find in this day and age. Well, here is living proof that “they” are incorrect once again. Mister O’Toole is the epitome of pure goodness. He is caring, loving, and sensitive to your needs. He is creative and intelligent. Jeez, what else would you want?

  “Let’s start the bidding at $35,000.”

  Chapter 3: THREE MINUTES!

  "HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!"

  The booming laughter echoed throughout the second floor of the McNamara Institute for the Psychologically Impaired.

  "THREE MINUTES! THREE MINUTES! THREE MINUTES!"

  Nurse Blatt raised her eyes from her desk and shot a stare at her partner Kim.

  "HEEE HEEE HEEE HEEE HEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

  "Didn't we give him his sedatives this morning?" Blatt asked rhetorically.

  "HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HO HO OH OH HOOOO!"

  "Yes, of course we did," Kim answered quickly as she was scrambling to show her the patient's chart. This was Kim's first day on the job, and she did not realize Blatt was being sarcastic.

  "HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE!"

  "We may need to sedate him again or tell Doctor Napier when he comes in," the head nurse said.

  "Uhm ... what exactly is ... the cause of his ... uhm ... condition," Kim asked.

  "THREE MINUTES! THREE MINUTES! THREE MINUTES!"

  Nurse Blatt took a deep breath, let loose a sigh, and then began to tell her the story.

  "Harry Smith was a vacuum cleaner salesman in the seventies, and not a very successful one. But he tried his hardest to make his quota, and he usually did. He was part of the system, never broke the law, and lived in an apartment in Maryland. He always wore his ill-fitted suit and was used to doors being slammed in his face," Blatt said.

  "So...the rejection caught up with him and he snapped?" Kim quizzed.

  "No, that wasn't the reason, let me finish please," Blatt scolded.

  The head nurse realized she may have been too cold, so she followed up with, "I'm sorry, but this story is like an initiation. I tell it to every new nurse; I memorized it by heart."

  Kim smiled.

  "HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!"

  "Anyway, Harry didn't care that he was a...dare I say it...a nobody. He was just a number, a cog in the machine, one of countless nondescript single men. He was one of "them"- the generic term used for someone typical of our conception of the general public. He was like a worker ant, never even stressing about anything, just going about his business."

  "HEEE HEEE HEEE HEEE HEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

  "Apparently his life was so boring and monotonous that he never deviated from his schedule. It was like he was programmed to do the same thing every morning (he worked the weekends, too). He was such a creature of habit that some doctors now think he suffered from obsessive-compulsive behavior. All of his actions were timed and he had a set schedule starting with getting up at 8:05AM, relieving himself, brushing his teeth, getting new clothes for the day, taking a shower, putting his deodorant on, making breakfast- you get the idea."

  "HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HO HO OH OH HOOOO!"

  "Well on a Wednesday morning, he got up three minutes before the alarm clock went off. The sun woke him up, and he rose from his bed and shut the alarm so it wouldn't go off. And then he said something aloud that would haunt him for the rest of his life: "Now I have three minutes. I have three minutes extra today. I have bested Father Time himself. Then he started to snicker, and went about his business as usual, but he was three minutes ahead of schedule, got it?"

  Kim nodded her head affirmatively; she was at the edge of her seat.

  "THREE MINUTES! THREE MINUTES! THREE MINUTES!"

  "Well an hour later, he left his apartment and went into his car, thinking that he would arrive at his customer's house three minutes earlier than he intended. As he was driving to his destination, a five-year old girl ran in front of his car and was killed instantly. She was walking with her mother, but for some reason the girl starting running! Well, that was it for Harry. He went into shock and regressed into the madman he is today. The courts found him guilty of manslaughter but he was unable to stand for trial due to his state. We're supposed to keep him until he gets better..."

  "HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!"

  "...which I don't think will happen in this lifetime."

  "I wouldn't be too sure of that, ma'am," said a tall thin man with brown hair and gray temples. He was wearing a doctor's smock with a nametag that said ATB. Behind him stood a very tall and imposing black man with his arms folded. He was wearing the institution's standard white orderly uniform.

  The two women were so engrossed in the story that they didn't see the two strangers standing there. Or maybe they just appeared out of nowhere, Kim thought.

  "My name is Doctor Carson from Princeton. I have orders to transfer patient Harold Smith," he said plainly. His partner just stood there, arms crossed, without muttering a word.

  "Here's the paperwork," Doctor Carson said as he halfway tilted his head towards the brute. "Go get him ready, Jameel."

  ***

  "Well, the paperwork is all in order," Nurse Blatt said.

  “Doctor Carson” walked to Harry Smith's room, and saw that “Jameel” held him from under the arm, while Harry was shouting.

  "Let's go now, Harry," “Jameel” said. "We gonna take you to a better place."

  As the three left the building and went into a white GMC van, “Jameel” a.k.a. Sean Brown smiled to “Doctor Carson” a.k.a. Richard Wright, and said, "Score another one for the Soul Patrol."

  Chapter 4: Turning the Tables

  "I'm just tired of it sometimes, that's all I'm sayin'," Sean Brown said. He and three other members of the Soul Patrol were having dinner at Applebee's in Detroit.

  Mohammed had fixed disguises for them; since part of their mission was to surprise, stalk, and trick unsuspecting targets, it would have been most unwise for them to appear in public together.

  Along with Sean, at the table were Maria-Antonia, Eva, and Mohammed. Richard, their leader, had hid himself in the laboratory working on a new project.

  "My will is surrendered to Allah," Mohammed replied. "If my role is to help apprehend lost souls for the Auctioneer, then so be it."

  Maria-Antonia agreed. "I've never heard you say you were tired of doing your job."

  "I thought it was unspoken – that we all felt that way. That it is wrong that we have to spend our entire lives living out this bloodline curse," Sean answered.

  "Look, I'm sure we all feel that way, but nothing positive comes from thinking or feeling about things that we can't change," Eva smiled.

  "Thanks, Eva – that's what I'm trying to say – that we all feel that!" Sean said.

  "We're professional, Sean," Maria-Antonia responded. "I don't have to tell you that- your excellent field performance is self-evident."

  "Do you think our ancestors – the original members of the Soul Patrol – enjoyed being slaves to the men who took the mantle of the Auctioneer?" asked Sean.

  "'Slaves' is a harsh term," Maria-Antonia said. "They, like us, were bonded to fulfill the duty to capture lost souls, and the Auctioneer has always sold them to the highest bidder."

  "Sounds like slave trade to me," Sean grumbled.

  "But we are giving these lost souls a second chance in life. They would probably burn in hell if we did not interve
ne and save them for the Auctioneer," Mohammed interjected.

  "It's true," said Eva. "The Auctioneer cleans them up, and they can be useful to another person, family, corporation, military, or organization. They may have lost the spark, but now they have a second chance."

  "Haw, haw. Boy, you are so gullible. We capture people who have lost "it". We have technology and mystic artifacts to help us determine who these defeated men and women are. There ain't no way they get a renewed lease on life. The Auctioneer is a slave trader, always has been. And we're his goon squad."

  "Methinks you have drank too much," Mohammed said.

  "Have you ever followed up on what happens to the people that we capture for him," Sean asked.

  "It's not our job to," Maria-Antonia replied.

  "Well, I did. They are puppets; just hunks of flesh. We peddle soulless bags of skin."

  "Then how do we fight destiny, Sean?" Eva asked. "Go rogue? You know what would have to be done if one of us went rogue."

  "I'm not sayin' that!"

  "Then what are you saying?" Maria-Antonia asked coldly.

  "I'm askin' don't you feel that we don't have free will?"

  "There is no free will, Sean. There is only Allah's will," Mohammed replied.

  As the companions debated their purpose in life, and tackled further philosophical debates, they were ignorant of a 29-year old woman with short-cropped hair, sitting alone. She had a schoolteacher's appearance, wearing gray slacks, with glasses and a pearl necklace. She was listening to their conversation, but played it off that she was simply enjoying her meal.

  After a few minutes, she stood up nonchalantly and went to the restroom. She checked under the stalls for shoes and determined that she was alone. She locked the door from the inside.

  She opened her purse and took out her cell phone and pressed a button.

  "Auctioneer? This is Ellis."

  "Ah, hello my dear! How is your dinner going?" the Auctioneer asked as he broke into a smile.

  "Eh...the food's not that great. But I happened to overhear a zany group of people at another table," she said tongue-in-check.

  "It's amazing how there are so many interesting people at restaurants. I should go out more. I think I'm missing a good show," he grinned. "So what did you overhear?"

  Ellis answered, "Brown started a whole conversation about possibly breaking away from the group. He tried to convince the others to go rogue with him."

  "Who were the dissenters?"

  "Al Hassan and de Jesus were steadfast in their opposition. Reichensteiner was kind of on the fence, but did not commit to Brown's ideas," Ellis reported.

  "Thank you, Ellis. That will be all. Enjoy the rest of your night."

  "Good night."

  After she put the phone back in her purse, someone was knocking at the door.

  Before she unlocked the door, she whispered, "And I doubt Sean Brown will be having any good nights any more!" She could not contain her grin. Nothing could wipe the devilish smile off of her face. Nothing...

  After she unlocked and opened the door, she was startled beyond all measures. There stood Sean Brown with his arms folded blocking the exit. To his left was Mohammed, to his right Eva. Maria-Antonia was standing in the back.

  "Wha...how...." Ellis was speechless. She tried unsuccessfully to push past the crew. Sean pushed her back in the bathroom and his companions rushed in after him. Maria-Antonia locked the door from the inside.

  "What do you want with me?" Ellis meekly asked. "I didn't do anything."

  "Don't even try to lie to me, wench," Sean retorted.

  "Well, fine!" Ellis answered with a sudden rush of confidence. "But it's too late – I've told the Auctioneer everything!"

  "And all of this is because I wouldn't be your prom date in high school, Ellis?" Sean asked.

  "You have no idea what you did to me, Sean! Ever since then, I have made it my life's ambition to ruin you!" she screamed.

  Maria-Antonia said, "I didn't know the Auctioneer is hiring raving lunatics now. Who's next, the Martyr?"

  "Shut up, Maria," Ellis shouted. "It's all over for Sean, now. The Auctioneer will make him pay."

  Sean smiled. "Okay, let me see if I can explain this to you as simply as possible. Number one: Maria-Antonia, Mohammed, Eva, Richard, and I are BLOOD BOUND. It doesn't matter what I personally think. The Auctioneer needs us, and we need him. He doesn't care what my personal feelings are. "

  "Number two: How stupid do you think we are – that we wouldn't notice you spying on us back there?"

  "And Number three: You weren't even speaking to the Auctioneer. You were speaking to Richard Wright. He intercepted your call, and used his voice synthesizer and pretended to be the Auctioneer."

  "..…what are you going to do with me?" Ellis sighed. "I give up."

  "Oh, I think we have a great idea," Sean smiled. "It was our plan since this night began."

  ***

  THREE WEEKS LATER

  In the crowded Green Room

  "Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you tonight a very special woman," the Auctioneer smiled while holding the microphone.

  "It's very rare that you can find a woman with so many admirable traits. She's intelligent, attractive, and resourceful. Yes, she would be an excellent agent in any of your organizations. I present to you- Ellis Randolf!"

  "Let the bidding begin at $55,000."

  Chapter 5: One More Chance

  Knock. Knock.

  "Who's there?"

  "Amber-Lynn."

  Diego opened his front door and was greeted by an attractive petite German girl.

  "Hi!" Amber-Lynn playfully greeted the nerdy little man.

  "Hi..." Diego hesitated. "Uhm...I thought you were going to be a brunette. NOT that you're not pretty of course...."

  "Oh, well I can leave if you want," she replied as she was about to turn around.

  "NO! I'm sorry, come on in. Come on in," he smiled.

  "Okay, your hour starts right now. I'm not strict, but I do work for the agency.…" she said.

  "Okay," Diego answered. "Make yourself comfortable. I'll go get you a drink."

  As Diego went into his kitchen, he saw a car parked in front of his house. There was a huge black man wearing green fatigues sitting in the driver's side.

  "Uhm ... is that guy with you, Amber?" Diego shouted from the kitchen. No reply. "Amber, is that guy with you?"

  Amber walked into the kitchen and asked, "Yeah, he dropped me off. Let me signal to him through the window that I'm okay."

  After she gave the behemoth a thumbs-up, she told Diego that it's just to make sure she's safe and that he was no freak or serial killer.

  Diego understood and motioned for Amber-Lynn to sit on the couch in the living room. "Have a seat, pretty lady. Here's your drink."

  "Oooh. Wine. Excellent!" she exclaimed.

  After she took a sip and put it on the coffee table, Diego rubbed gently her cheek with the back of his hand.

  "Your skin is so smooth and white...so pretty.…" he trailed off.

  "Thanks," she answered. "But you have a choice...you can –"

  "Do it the hard way or do it the easy way!" a booming voice came from behind Diego.

  It was the big bruiser that was in the car!

  Diego jumped. "What do you mean?"

  "You're finished. We both here to give you a new life," the hulk answered.

  Diego turned around and "Amber-Lynn" was standing up with a solemn look on her face.

  "Wait a minute..." Diego mused. "I've been set up? What's going on here?"

  The big man replied, “Yo’ soul is done, Diego. We're here to give you a new lease on life. Now you could walk out the door with us and come easily, or you could resist and get knocked out by mah fist."

  "My soul is done...? Wait a minute. No ... no, it can't be! It's impossible. You're Sean Brown and Eva Reichensteinner! You're ... the ... S O U L P A T R O L"

  Eva and Sean were stunned. Their existence was sec
ret. No one had ever made them out like this – not by name. Their jaws fell to the ground.

  "But I'm not done, guys! I swear!" Diego said quickly.

  "How do you know us, Diego?" Eva questioned sharply.

  "I was surfing the Internet a few months ago and stumbled upon this really esoteric message board run by some hacker nicknamed the Nihilist. It's not even up anymore. On that site, I read about you guys. You, Richard Wright, Maria-Antonia, and Mohammed," Diego responded nervously, yet proud that he knew of them.

  "But you guys only take away people that are finished. I'm not finished. I don't care what the damn Auctioneer says!" Diego angrily shouted.

  Eva and Sean glanced at each other, obviously communicating without words their surprise that Diego knew of the Auctioneer.

  "Diego – the Auctioneer don’t tell us who to find; Richard Wright does. And his computers and machines singled you out. If you know stuff about us, then you know that we never wrong. We combine –"

  "–mysticism and technology, I know," Diego interrupted Sean.

  Eva asked him why he was still debating the inevitable.

  Diego said, "Look, I WAS done. But I had another shot at redemption, and I'm trying to get myself back on track. This happened yesterday."

  If there was any doubting that their machines were right, that was all erased after Diego said that. “Yesterday?” Sean and Eva just rolled their eyes at each other.

  "Look, could we just sit and talk about this for a few minutes. I mean, if I'm REALLY done, why would I be trying to save myself right now? I changed my outlook and attitude yesterday," Diego pleaded.

  Sean sighed. "If Maria-Antonia was here, you would be put to sleep with a gas pellet already." Sean sighed again and offered, "Okay, look: we'll listen, but we WILL be takin’ you in after you had yo’ say, no matter what, and ‘dat’s ‘dat. The only reason I'm doin’ this is because you're...a fan."

  Everyone let loose a laugh, cutting the tension in the air.

  After everyone was seated Diego said, "It's true. It's true. If you came here two days ago, I would go willing with you in a heartbeat."