Epilogue
Another name appeared in his book. John Simms.
Shocked Hotglue made it that long, Bookkeeper thought, looking at the entry on the newly deceased Guardian. Pathetic, as those in that rank went. He’d done what his name said, nothing more. Bookkeeper rose from his chair, letting the book float alongside him as he moved to the next room.
The man held on the table by a hundred skeletal hands had been robust, once. Now, little more than a torso, neck, and head, Chance Walker would never be Freeflow again in this life.
“I’m happy to inform you you’ll have company on the other side, Mr. Walker!” Bookkeeper said cheerfully. He frowned when the maimed man didn’t respond, gesturing and making one of the hands slap him awake.
Chance sucked in a hissing breath, weak with pain and fever.
“Fuck. You.” He gasped. “Kill me!”
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“Death is such a funny thing, Mr. Walker.” Bookkeeper explained. “Well, probably not to you. But all of you talk about it with such finality. I can assure you, it is anything but, especially in my presence.”
Chance spit at him.
“If you were just gonna monologue, you shoulda let me sleep.”
Bookkeeper gave him a tight smile, wiping blood-flecked spittle off his sweater-vest with a handkerchief.
“Did you know that souls leave residue on one another when they touch, Mr. Walker?”
“What?”
“And I can see the residue on you of a soul for which I have been searching for a very long time.”
Bookkeeper gestured again, a skeletal claw raising from behind the table. It pointed a talon down at Chance’s forehead.
“Let’s see if we can find out anything more about that in your memories.”
The talon plunged, and Chance’s scream cut out into a gurgling sigh.
An entry for Chance Walker appeared in his book. It floated in front of Bookkeeper, and his eyes gleamed as he scanned the entry.
“Its been too long, Granddaughter.”
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