by Stuart Jaffe
“Then pay attention. It is crucial that you are looking into the eyes of the person whose soul you wish to gain. The poets had it right — the eyes are the window.”
She leaned over the man, pushing his chin so that he looked up at her. She brought her face close against his, her eyes on the same level. And shot him in the chest.
Nathan flinched at the sound but had presence of mind to watch closely. The old man’s body convulsed, but Octavia kept his head still. Moments later, a thin mist ejected from his eyes. But instead of drifting upward, the mist traveled into Octavia’s eyes as if drawn by a magnetic field.
With a satisfied breath, she turned to Nathan. “See? Simple enough. The body you now inhabit will know what to do.” She gestured toward the woman. “Gain your second soul and we shall begin.”
He lifted the gun, aimed it at the woman’s head, and stopped. Tears streamed from her eyes. She screamed but the gag muffled the sound into a heart-wrenching whine. It reminded Nathan of an injured dog locked in a cage. He lowered the gun.
Octavia slapped the back of Nathan’s head. “Are you really going to make me waste my morning coaxing you into this. You will have to do it eventually. You understand that?”
“Cut me some slack. I’ve never killed anybody before. Maybe for you it’s easy, maybe she’s nothing but a soul you need to steal, but this is a real person here, a human being. And where I come from, murder isn’t something to be taken lightly.”
“You better get it through your head that you are no longer human like they are. You are more than human, and they are nothing more than what you need to survive. At least, that’s what you need to think of when you take a life.”
“But isn’t it dangerous to have such awful people inside us? You now have a soul of a rapist.”
“No. I have a second soul of a rapist. It’s a shield and nothing more. His disease cannot infiltrate me, the master soul.”
“How can you be sure?”
“I will teach you, but not until you do what you must.”
“But —”
“Enough. This woman that you are so worried about — her name is Samantha Rigby. She murdered her two babies because twins were too difficult to manage. Unfortunately, a clumsy handling of the chain of custody for the key evidence resulted in the DA’s office being unable to successfully prosecute. Rigby walked.”
“Really?”
“One thing you ought to know about me from the start — I do not lie.”
Nathan looked at Rigby’s pitiful face. Those tears — had she cried them for her babies? Before he allowed himself to think any further, Nathan raised his weapon and shot. As Rigby’s head rocked and blood sprayed out the back, Nathan remembered he was supposed to be up close to catch her soul. He rushed forward, tripped from moving too fast, and tumbled into Rigby’s corpse. Together, they fell to the floor. She smelled like sour milk, but he grabbed her face and smacked it close to his own. He opened his eyes as wide as possible.
Little stars formed in her dead eyes. They twinkled as they leaked out of her. This close up, Nathan thought they looked like dust motes drifting in a gentle breeze. They tingled as they penetrated his eyes. No pain. No discomfort. A soft tingle and a sensation like the first bite of food after missing several meals — sheer satisfaction; enough to cause the body to sigh in relief.
Octavia removed the gun from his hand before helping him to his feet. “Now, we train.”
Chapter Six
They stood in the middle of an enormous athletic field. Two baseball games could have been played while three track and field events transpired and an exhausting relay raced along the perimeter — but only Octavia and Nathan were there with the sun burning on their shoulders. The field remained still and quiet. Except for Octavia’s commanding voice.
“You will learn all the skills you need to protect the unique body you have been given,” she said. “You will do all that is required of you, physically and mentally, so that your body does not suffer at your hands. Remember, every moment you breathe is a gift. You should be dead right now, but instead you have the joy of life. Cherish these days, and treat the body that provides this for you with the greatest care.”
“Yeah, I get it,” Nathan said. “But I have a few million questions to ask. Things I would have asked before, but you painted me into a corner. Like who are you people? What is it you’re doing on this island besides ushering newbies in? I mean, I heard about Mr. Larkin but I haven’t seen him. And for that matter —”
“Silence!” Octavia slammed her palm into Nathan’s chest. He dropped to the ground, gasping for air and rubbing his sternum. “You will train. For the time being, that is your only purpose or concern.”
Nathan crossed his arms, trying not to put too much pressure on his aching chest. “No.”
“Do not talk back to me.”
“I need answers. I think I’ve been pretty generous with how much I’ve put up with. And I admit that the whole immortal thing threw me for a bit. Still is, frankly. But I need to start getting some perspective on what the hell is going on around here. So, the answer is no. I will not simply do what you want because you tell me to do so.”
Octavia glared at him, but Nathan did not move. She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at him, but he did not move. Finally, she said, “You do know that I can kill you with my bare hands.”
“I suspect as much. But I’ll come right back to life. Right? I understand that, at least.”
“Damn child,” she said under her breath. Then, returning to her command voice, she said, “I am going to train you and you will do everything I command. In exchange, I will answer one question each day.”
Nathan perked up. “Four questions.”
“One.”
“Three.”
“One.”
Nathan looked her over hard. Her set jaw, her firm stance, her tight fist getting ready to strike. “Sounds like a deal.”
“No. No deals. This is a privilege. As such, if you fail to obey my commands, you will lose this privilege. If you fail to work hard for me, you lose the privilege. If you fail to —”
Nathan stood. “I understand. But what happens if you fail to deliver on your promise?”
“You dare accuse —”
“Not at all. I’m merely making sure our verbal contract is clearly defined.”
Octavia closed her eyes and bit back a few words. Finally, she said, “I was told you were in law school. It shows. Here’s your contract — one question answered each day. No more. That’s it. Lawyer me again, and I’ll rip your soul out of that body. Clear enough?”
Nathan’s mouth went dry. “Clear.”
“Good. And don’t ever interrupt me ever again.”
He nodded and refrained from speaking.
Day 1
The morning began with military-style PT. Running three miles along the beach followed by push-ups and sit-ups and a full hour lifting weights in the facility’s excellent gym. Then breakfast and an intense hour of martial arts training. Throughout it all, Nathan stayed silent unless he had a question pertaining to the lesson at hand.
His new body was in excellent shape — better than any time in Nathan’s old body. The running, the push-ups, the fighting — his new body could do it all. And the muscles remembered much of its fighting from past souls.
“These special bodies have true muscle memory,” Octavia said. “We simply have to get you thinking properly, so that your mind can sync up with what your body already knows to do.”
Whenever he wasn’t grinding through another rep of one exercise or another, his body poked at the idea of a second soul within him. After the initial euphoria, he felt no different than when he had one soul — not that anybody really was aware of how one soul felt. If not for all he had seen in person, he might have dismissed the entire thing. But he had seen it, he had experienced it, and so he could not deny that within him was the soul of that horrible woman. She was in a purgatory of sorts, the Darkness, waiting
the day that he suffered deadly injury so she could be released to an afterlife.
At the end of the day, Octavia patted the sweat from her face with a towel and said, “Go ahead. Ask your question.”
Nathan startled at the command. Through all the pain of the day and the pondering over his extra soul, he forgot about the deal he had made. But then his mind flooded through his mouth. “What are you people doing out here? Are you some kind of superhero team or something? And how can you afford this island?”
“One question per day. No more.”
Nathan grimaced. “Fine. Who are you people?”
“We are a group of immortal bodies that have found purpose in working together.”
“What purpose?”
“One question per day. No more.”
He wanted to argue over the quality of her answer, but held back. She might have made good on her threat to rip his soul out. He would have to devise better questions.
That first night, despite the muscle spasms along his back tightening and releasing, he sat at the desk in his room and fired up a laptop that had been provided. Though his knowledge of computers was basic, he knew the Internet could be counted on for massive amount of information. Surely, with a few hours work, he could find out where he was, who these people really were, if this had happened to anybody else. Barring that, he could at least reach out to Jennie and let her know he was still alive.
But the Internet had been blocked. In fact, the computer had nothing on it but one program called Solve — a game designed to teach him how to break codes.
“Even when I’m not training, they got me training.” He slammed the laptop closed and gazed at the white walls around him.
Not iron bars, but a prison nonetheless. And like a prisoner, if he wanted to survive, he would have to toughen up his head. His captors would strengthen his body, but his mind — that was different. They wanted to destroy his mind, destroy his identity, essentially brainwash him to be whatever all this training was supposed to be for.
Which meant that he needed a way to remember who he actually was. That seemed simple enough at the moment, but Nathan knew better. People changed all the time. If stuck in isolation, people changed quicker. He would have to be vigilant, remind himself daily of who he was, what he believed in, who mattered to him, all the things that made him Nathan Flynn. Otherwise, he might end up nothing more than a prisoner of this body.
“So, I’m Nathan Flynn. I’ve seen enough criminals from my bail bond days to know that prison will change me, if I don’t watch out. I am a prisoner here. I love Jennie. When I get out of here, I’m going to marry her.”
The sooner, the better. Each day she went on thinking he was dead would make his reappearance that much more difficult to accept. Plus, he would have to get beyond the different body. But whatever shell he wore, he was still Nathan Flynn — the man Jennie loved.
Day 2
More PT. More martial arts. More sweat. More sore muscles.
At the end of the day, “Your question?”
“What is the purpose of your group?”
“You’ll find that after living as long as we have, that after centuries of seeing the same fights rise and fall between nations, you’ll start to see humanity through a different set of eyes. The everyday problems no longer will matter. But the greater story will remain — humanity’s survival.”
“I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”
“You will. Give it a hundred years. Until then, know that we do think humankind deserves to live, and our goal is to aid in making that happen. To put it in more modern terms, we observe humanity at a macro-level and act accordingly.”
Over the next several weeks, operating one question at a time, Nathan put together a picture of the people he had joined. They were all immortals who didn’t want to see humanity destroy itself — but humans kept trying to do so. At some point, Mr. Larkin brought this group of people together to stop humans from their self-destruction.
As Octavia had put it, “For every Hundred Years War or World War II or Vietnam, there are countless conflicts that have never happened because we intervened.”
“What does that mean?”
She did not answer until the following day, when she said, “Sometimes we are assassins. Sometimes we are negotiators. Sometimes we acquire stolen property, and sometimes we steal it. When you are removed from the cycle of Life and Death, many moral qualms become meaningless. All that matters is keeping humans, as a whole, alive.”
When necessary, the group contracted out to governments and performed impossible missions at an exorbitant hourly rate. That, plus compounding interest over centuries, led to deep, deep coffers and the ownership of an island with state-of-the-art technology.
“Those missions,” Octavia said, wrinkling her nose at a foul odor, “are distasteful. But we must do what we must do in order to survive.”
“But why is humanity so important to you — to us?”
The following day, Octavia’s answer unsettled Nathan. “Imagine what our lives would be like should all humanity be destroyed. Not only would it be empty and lonely, but what would we do without a supply of people to fill our second souls?”
Every night, he reminded himself — “I am Nathan Flynn. I am a prisoner. I am only doing what I must in order to remain alive. I refuse to be an assassin. I will not kill people. I love Jennie. When I get away from here, I will marry her.”
He imagined their reunion. It would be strange, at first. She wouldn’t believe that this man in front of her could be her Nathan. But the man she loved would shine through the shell he wore. They would marry and make love and have children — never mind what Octavia had said. They would have children.
Some nights, he even believed it.
In addition to answering questions and training Nathan like a drill sergeant’s drill sergeant, Octavia ate meals with him — in silence. Then she would leave him for the night. Victoria took over, making sure he took proper care of his body.
She instructed him on proper hygiene — far beyond learning to wash behind the ears — as well as proper diet. Good nutrition was fundamental to protecting his new body, and most of what the world considered fact was actually a series of fictions created by food industries with financial interests in keeping their products selling. She spent a full week re-educating him on fat intake alone. Nathan summed up that week as apparently, fat was good and he could enjoy butter.
And every evening, as he headed toward the empty hotel, he strolled by a single-story, cinderblock building like a squat, private Costco warehouse. It appeared to have no windows and only one door. Every night, a light flickered under the lip of the door.
Day 22
After much thought the previous evening, Nathan decided to use his question in as direct a manner as possible. “What’s in that cinderblock building?”
A strange look crossed over Octavia’s face. “You must forget about that building. Inside is nothing that you need to know about right now. If you’re lucky, you’ll never need to know.”
Nathan protested this lack of an answer as breaking the rules of their agreement, but he could see in her eyes that she would offer no more. He didn’t press her out of fear that she might revoke their agreement entirely. And he couldn’t afford that. He needed those answers.
No matter how cooperative he appeared, in truth, he had never once forgotten the world he left behind. His nightly litany, however, became his Litany of Jennie — a recitation of all the key events in his relationship with the woman he had planned to marry. From the first date at Famous Ray’s to his last living day at the deli, he latched upon those memories as a raft in a tumultuous ocean of Octavia’s training. When he remembered to do so, he added, “I will not kill for these people, but I must do whatever it takes to survive.”
And that was it. Each day was filled with hard training, one question answered, meals and hygiene, a few seconds walking by that strange cinderblock building, and each eveni
ng, he spent in meditation focused on Jennie. His sexual urges, quite robust in his former life, rarely flared up. Too often, he was too exhausted from the training to bother with fantasies that would never come true. He was a prisoner on this island, and he used the routine as a way to survive.
Day 53
Before Nathan could leave for his morning PT, Victoria opened his door. “Lucky you, you’re coming with me today.”
“But Octavia expects -”
“She expects you to follow orders. Your orders are to come with me. Now.”
Grating at the break in routine, Nathan did as commanded. Victoria led him out of the hotel, past the cinderblock building, and into a wooden shack. There, he found a primitive interrogation room — two chairs and a wide table. A ring mounted in the center of the table could be used for handcuffs. Only thing missing was a two-way mirror. Nathan spotted the next best thing — a surveillance camera hiding in one corner of the ceiling.
“What can I —”
“Sit,” Victoria said. Her normal playful demeanor vanished with that one word.
Nathan sat. He leaned back, tried to look casual, and waited.
Victoria placed a photo in front of him — the blond woman that had been killed in front of him when he woke in Jake’s body. “I want you to tell me every detail you recall from that night.”
“It’s been almost two months.”
“Her name is Crystal, and we’ve been trying to find her.”
“Wait, she’s one of us?” Nathan thought back — he had seen her die, but then nothing. By the time he fought Jake and won, she was no longer around. “She left me to die. Is she with Russo?”
Victoria rolled her eyes. “Just answer me. The rest you don’t need to know.”
Nathan folded his arms across his chest. “Have you learned nothing about me yet?”
With an audible click, she snapped her teeth together. “I’m annoyed Octavia’s let you live.”
“Must be my charm.”
She paused, then sighed. “Crystal did not betray us. She most likely left to chase after Russo or because he still had her captive. Either way, she knew Jake would be fine with Octavia in the room. Satisfied?”