Bob's Greatest Mistake_Part Two of The Journals of Bob Drifter

by M. L. S. Weech

“So you all do this work without any guidance? Without any rules?” Richard was trying to keep his frustration from showing.

  “Those of us who’ve been ‘round longer form a Council. We keep things runnin’ as smoothly as we can,” Drisc answered.

  “I have to get out of here,” Patience said. Drifter gave her a concerned look.

  “I’m OK,” Patience told Drifter. “I just need a minute.” Richard was willing to bet she needed more than a minute. Personally, he wanted to run screaming until the world made sense, so he couldn’t begrudge Patience a little bit of need for space.

  “I should go with you,” Drifter said.

  “No,” Drisc said. “I’ll go.”

  Drifter looked like he wanted to argue, but Drisc pointed at Richard. “He’s yer responsibility, too.”

  Richard stood. Who the hell is he to call me a responsibility?

  “I’m not going to spend my whole night explaining things to a man who shouldn’t even be here,” Drisc said. “Ye brought his attention to yerself, so that means you git to explain how we work to him.”

  “I’ll be back soon,” Patience told Drifter. “I’m not running out on you just yet.” She gripped his hand before grabbing her coat and leaving with Drisc.

  Richard stared at the door well after they left. “I thought you were trying to kill her,” he said softly.

  “Even if I could, I’d never hurt her,” Drifter said. “That time in Phoenix got me in a lot of trouble.”

  “Because of me?” Richard asked.

  “Because I started trying to help people before they died.”

  “But none of the Taylors died.”

  “Drew did.”

  “You were there for the dog?”

  “Dogs have souls just like us,” Drifter said. He walked to the window and peered through the shades for a moment.

  “So what was the big deal?”

  “The more involved we get, the more we get noticed,” Drifter replied. He sat back down on a chair by the hotel’s small table. “The Council brought you up quite a few times.”

  “I would have hunted you to the end of the Earth,” Richard said. “I was certain you killed Kyle.”

  “He asked me to tell you something you know. He figured out who I was when it happened.”

  “Did he suffer?”

  “No,” Drifter answered. “I Took his pain the moment I could.”

  Richard shifted a bit on the bed. “What did he want you to tell me?”

  Drifter thought for a moment. “He wanted you to live.”

  “You mean he didn’t want you to take my soul? Was I supposed to die?” Richard felt panicked. He worried that Kyle might have taken his place.

  “Not at all,” Drifter said. “We don’t pick who or when. We just Transport souls. He wanted you to stop overworking yourself. He wanted you to live life. He wanted it so much that he gave the last piece of his soul to you.”

  Richard remembered the night Kyle died. He remembered the strange feeling of warmth he felt when he attacked Drifter. “I did a fine job of messing that up. I’ve lost everything chasing you around.”

  “I wouldn’t say that,” Drifter said. He got up long enough to open the hotel-room fridge and pull out a few beers. He opened one up and handed it to Richard. “You and Linda will be fine.”

  “How the fuck would you know?” Richard spat. The fact that Drifter wasn’t a homicidal maniac didn’t mean he had room to give Richard marriage advice.

  “You know the term ‘soul mates?’” Drifter asked.

  “Of course I do,” Richard grumbled.

  “Well, it’s real, though not nearly as common as the romance songs make it out to be. In more than three hundred years, I’ve seen five, maybe six actual pairs of soul mates.”

  “What’s that mean?” Richard took a swig of the beer, more to calm his nerves than quench his thirst.

  “It means you and Linda don’t have similar souls. You have the same soul. If you don’t do anything stupid, you’ll live, love, and die together.”

  “But you just said you gave me part of Kyle’s soul,” Richard said. He felt a spark of pride. He wanted to find some hole in Drifter’s logic, some way to prove everything that had happened was all a giant lie.

  Bob just laughed and shook his head. “You and Linda share two halves of an infinite soul. Don’t you realize that half of infinity is still infinity?”

  Richard felt a swell of hope he didn’t expect. He could fix it all. He could still do what Kyle wanted him to do. He could go back to Linda. Live. Kyle had wanted him to live. Of everything Drifter said to prove himself, his friend’s greatest wish and his bond with Linda was what proved it. A part of Richard always knew that Kyle and Linda were a part of him. They were a part of his soul; they just hadn’t come together yet. But he had a part of Kyle with him: he and Linda would be with Richard forever.

  “So what?” Richard mused aloud. “I just go home like it never happened?”

  “I’m clearly the wrong person to ask,” Drifter said softly. Richard could tell all of Drifter’s thoughts were on Patience. “I can say with absolute certainty that the only way you two could ever be apart is if one of you is actually dumb enough to stay away.” He looked at Richard flatly. “So I’m hopeful she’s a lot smarter than you.”

  Richard couldn’t keep a guffaw from bursting out. Drifter joined in the laughter. It felt a bit more real to Richard. It was insane; it should have been impossible, but it felt real. Linda felt real. Kyle’s soul felt real. For Richard, that was enough. Unfortunately, that meant there really was a pissed-off, more-than-crazy immortal after them.

  “What’s your plan to stop Grimm?” Richard asked.

  “I’m thinking protect Patience, hurt him,” Drifter replied.

  “Yeah, but I mean, how are you going to do it?”

  Drifter didn’t respond. He took a long pull of beer and stared at the door. A moment later, Drisc and Patience wandered back in. Drifter turned away to make it look as if he wasn’t staring at the door. Patience went into the bathroom and turned on the shower.

  “Well, if he were a regular person, I’d work off his motive. We know what he wants and who he wants to kill.” Drifter glanced from the shadows to the bathroom where Patience was showering. Way to build confidence. “Most cops would kill for any one of those pieces of information. So the last trick is how.”

  “It’s the Blacksouls,” Drisc interjected. He’d found a beer for himself and sat in the chair across from Drifter. “They’re what give him his extra power.”

  “So it’s all about protecting Patience,” Richard said. “We watch her, we stop Grimm.” Richard felt elated. He could catch killers and follow evidence. It was real to him, normal.

  Drisc looked at Drifter, who turned away. “There’s no avoiding it, lad,” Drisc said.

  “You don’t know that,” Drifter argued.

  “She’s—”

  “I won’t let Grimm have her!” Drifter shouted. “He wants to do to her what he did to those kids. He doesn’t want to Transport her soul; he wants to turn it into a monster.”

  “We can’t step in, or it will prevent her death. That will do the same thing, only it’ll be your fault.”

  “I know!” Drifter shouted. He slumped in his chair. He hid his face, but Richard knew the man was trying to hide tears of frustration.

  “What if I interfere?” Richard asked. The two Journeymen shifted their gazes to him. “I’m not a Journeyman. I’m just a normal guy. So if I save her, that means she wasn’t meant to die, right?”

  Drifter looked to his friend. Richard could feel the hope oozing out of the man. Drisc only shrugged.

  “So you don’t know?” Drifter asked.

  “That’s the good news,” Drisc replied.

  “Why is it good news?”

  “Because if I don’t know we can’t do it, it means we can,” Drisc said with a smile.

  “The only thing left to do is find a spot,” Richard said. “If we pic
k the battlefield, we gain another advantage.”

  “I’d prefer actually knowing how to stop him,” Drisc said glumly. “I’d prefer having a way to get those Blacksouls away from him.”

  “I’ve been thinking about that,” Richard said. “Grimm is just a person, right? Without the Blacksouls, he’s no different than either of you.”

  The two Journeymen nodded at him and looked at each other to see if the other knew where the conversation was heading.

  “I don’t think we’ve seen the actual person. Those shadows are the Blacksouls, and he’s controlling them somehow.”

  “It makes sense,” Drisc said. “How’s that help?”

  “He can only have so many,” Richard said. “Even if it’s a thousand, he has a limited number of Blacksouls. So think of them like bullets in a suspect’s gun. We have to find a way to drain his ammunition.”

  “Spread the Blacksouls thin,” Drifter said. “Give him too many places to focus on and force the real Journeyman out into the open.”

  “That’s settled then,” Drisc said, heading to the fridge for another beer.

  “Are you sure you should be drinking so much?” Richard asked.

  “I’d rather not be in me right mind when I take on Grimm,” Drisc said. “Besides, I’m much more effective with a bit’o spirit in me.”

  “But aren’t you some sort of head Journeyman?” Richard asked.

  The bathroom door opened, and Patience stepped out in a robe draped over some shorts and a T-shirt. Drisc motioned for her to sit down.

  “Good point,” he said. He pulled another three beers out of the fridge, handed them out, and offered a toast. “To the best of bad ideas, may they keep us in our skins.”

  Richard stared at the man. He must be out of his mind.

  “Now ye listen here, Sergeant,” Drisc said. “It’s like ye said. I’m in charge here, and I say we drink.”

  “I like that plan,” Patience added.

  “I side with the woman I love,” Drifter added. They’re all insane.

  “It’s almost sunrise,” Drisc said. “He’s not goin’ ta attack ’til sundown. Right now, we relax. We’ll have plenty of time to over think things and second-guess. For now, live a little.”

  Richard thought about it. Live! It was the only thing Kyle ever wanted him to do.

  “Cheers,” Richard said. They all tapped their beer bottles together, toasting the best of bad choices.

  27

  The Best-Laid Traps

  I don’t care about anything else. Damn the consequences. I have to trust a man who wanted to kill me yesterday with the woman I love. I have to stop a Journeyman twice as powerful as anyone else to keep her safe. None of it matters. All I care about is protecting her.

  Drisc found an old warehouse on the west side of Interstate 81. Richard, a surprisingly efficient lock-pick, got them access. Sunset was only two hours away before Patience had the group slaving away with light stands and flashlights.

  “It’s too small,” she told Richard, who looked frustrated.

  “What’s size got to do with anything?” he asked.

  Bob couldn’t help but chuckle. He loved watching Patience work. She rushed over to Richard, picking up a flashlight along the way. She turned it on and held her hand in front of the beam. The light cast a perfect silhouette of her hand onto the concrete floor.

  “Small light is hard light,” she explained. “Hard light means hard, dark shadows. That means I’m dead. I’d like to not be dead.”

  She pulled one of the pillowcases the group had “borrowed” from the hotel room from where she had tucked it in her belt and held the white cloth in front of the flashlight. Her hand was still plainly visible, but Bob couldn’t see a shadow.

  “Big light is soft light,” she told Richard. “Soft light means soft shadows or even nonexistent shadows. I paint with light for a living. When I want to know how to arrest someone, I’ll call you. Meanwhile, when it comes to light, I’m the law. The damn light’s too small.” She stormed off in a direction Bob hoped no people were in. He could tell she was at her wits’ end.

  “I didn’t mean it that way,” Richard said, seeming truly hurt. He was a nice enough fellow when he wasn’t trying to shoot or arrest anyone.

  “I’ll talk to her,” Bob said.

  “I’ll make sure the lights are as big as we can make them,” Richard replied.

  “Not all of them. We want all the lights facing the door to be small; that way, we should be able to tell which direction he’s coming from.”

  “You sure this will work?”

  “I’m supposed to ask you,” Bob said, watching Richard use some strips of cloth to tie a pillowcase in front of an old, heavy-duty flashlight. “This was your plan, remember?”

  “Yeah,” Richard said. “I remember. If it blows up in our faces, just remember: None of you had a better plan.”

  “It’ll work,” Bob said. He tried not to sound like he was trying to convince himself. “I’ll go see if Patience has calmed down yet.”

  The area was as well lit and secure as a photographer and cop could make it. Bob thought about the plan as he went to find Patience. He looked at all the windows that Richard said were basically open invitations. He looked at the couple dozen square feet of space the group had set out and realized they were asking to be surrounded. He said as much when they found the place, but Richard said he didn’t want their backs to a wall.

  Patience sat on an old crate near the entrance with her back to the light so she could see her shadow spread out before her. Bob looked out the windows surrounding the warehouse. Only a sliver of sunlight streamed through the lower row of glass squares or broken window frames.

  “I’m supposed to have something rational to say right now about how you should take it easy on people who are trying to help, but the problem is that I’m on your side,” Bob told her.

  She looked over her shoulder at him. She looked so tired and afraid. He hated that he couldn’t do anything at all to calm her. “I’m such a bitch,” she said. She sniffed, trying to hide the fact that she was an instant from breaking into tears.

  “You’re stressed out,” Bob said calmly, sitting next to her on the crate and letting her snuggle against him. “Only an idiot would say he understands. The fact is you’re what we’re fighting for. Just remember that.”

  She kissed him. “I will.” It was the first time she’d kissed him since she found out what he was.

  He held her eyes with his. “I mean it, Patience. You’re what matters in this. I have to stop him, and Richard has to protect you. I hate this!”

  “Don’t start,” she said. “You told me the rules. They’re bullshit, but I understand that they’re there. You told me Richard was a dog with a bone; that he never gives up.”

  “That’s true,” Bob said about the former policeman.

  “So, you trust him, and I’ll trust you.” She gave a weak smile that Bob understood was meant to encourage him. “Should I apologize to Richard?”

  “He’s probably already forgotten about it by now.”

  “He’s that forgiving?”

  “He’s that understanding when he’s not completely wrong,” Bob said lightly.

  “That’s supposed to encourage me?” Patience asked.

  “Yes, because he’s not wrong about you,” he replied.

  “Did the other Journeymen say they’d come?” she asked, changing the subject.

  “Not tonight. But they know what’s going on. They’re good with the plan.”

  “At least the part where we stop Grimm.”

  “I didn’t exactly tell them the whole plan.”

  “Don’t you teach your students about honesty?”

  “I’m a hypocrite.”

  “I knew I loved you for a reason.”

  “It wasn’t for my looks?”

  “OK, so I had two reasons.”

  “Two’s a start.”

  Patience looked back to the area the group was preparing
for sundown. “I should go help Richard.” She stood up. Bob didn’t want to let her go, but he didn’t want to seem overly afraid either. He let her help the former detective while he went to help Drisc set up some old crates.

  Drisc worked to create a wall of crates behind the group to make a sort of collapsible wall for them to use for cover or as a trap if they needed. It was Drisc’s idea, so he had to set it up. He struggled with a crate. Bob rushed over and helped lift it on top of two others.

  “Thanks, lad,” Drisc said.

  “You could have waited till I finished with the lights,” Bob replied.

  “I figured ye’d have enough work on yer hands and troubles on yer mind,” Drisc said, moving to a new crate. Bob helped him slide it beside the last stack. “Right now, I need you doin’ exactly what yer doin’. That’s keepin’ an eye on yer lady friend.”

  He walked over and selected another crate to move. That was the funny thing with Drisc: he’d be the last man to want to do anything, but once he did, he wouldn’t stop until the task was done and done right.

  “I didn’t thank you for not telling the Council about Richard and our intention to protect Patience,” Bob said. Drisc dropped his latest crate in its place.

  “Because it’s not our plan; it’s Richard’s,” Drisc said, panting lightly from the work. “That makes it mortal business and none of mine.”

  Bob helped him with the last crate they could find. They sat on the ground with their backs against the makeshift wall. Drisc pulled out a small flask, took a long drink, and offered it to Bob.

  “No, thank you,” Bob said.

  “Just fuck’n drink,” his friend demanded. Bob gave an irritated sigh before drinking. He nearly choked as the water poured into his throat.

  “I figure if I’m about to die, I should see the good Lord sober,” Drisc said to explain the switch from his normal drink of choice.

  “Might be a good decision,” Bob said musingly. “I don’t know what else to do.”

  “Times like this, lad, ye just do,” Drisc responded. He put the cap back on his flask and tucked it into a pocket. “You don’t focus on stopping that lunatic. Ye just focus on her, and the rest will work out. I won’t let ye down, Bob. I promise ye.”