“Departures” is a supernatural thriller and love story published as a serial novel with new episodes dropping every Tuesday morning. Anyone can read or listen for free. Paid subscribers gain early access to new episodes. Watch the trailer or visit the table of contents to browse all the published episodes.
Previously…
In the last episode, we met Wilder Emerson Thorne IV and witnessed a bizarre psychological episode he experienced after accidentally touching a barista. Mysteriously, Wild offered the kid, Conrad $5000 to come back to his place under the guise of recording the kid’s story for a docuseries. But things are not what they seem.
“Look, I’m not just gonna call my parents up out of the blue. You can’t pay me enough to do that.”
This kid, Conrad, was resolute and fierce. Wild recognized a bit of his younger self in him and understood how his own parents must have felt trying to convince him of anything. He weighed his options. Time was running out.
“What about brothers or sisters?” Wild asked.
“No, I’m an only child. Hey, why are you asking about everyone but me here? I mean isn’t this supposed to be my story?”
“It’s the people around us who often make our stories. So I like to start there.”
“You seem anxious,” Conrad said, setting his tea down with great care.
There were only a few ways Wild could go with this now. He had tried them all in the past when he was younger and more full of himself. But this morning he had just wanted a quiet walk with some fresh air. It had been months since he had risked that simple privilege. He could try the direct approach. This had limited success in the past but always with older people who had longer runways. He could attempt to coerce the kid or trick him, but that was a younger man’s play. While he was lost in thought, the kid had gotten spooked. Wild felt things slip sideways as a tiger stalking a young antelope might when the wind changes direction.
“This isn’t right,” Conrad said, beginning to stand as he reached into his pocket for the wad of bills. “You’re not who you say you are. Is this some kind of fucking intervention? Did my dad pay you?”
“No, no it’s not like that. I didn’t even know who you were until an hour ago.”
“Whatever, this is too weird. If it’s sex you want, I don’t do that. I just want to leave, okay?”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t just let you do that, Conrad.”
Wild stood up to his full height and looked down at the kid, trying his best to look him in the eye and to convey what he felt. But Conrad had dropped the money on the coffee table and was already moving toward the door.
“Okay, stop,” he said. “I’m going to tell you the truth and you’re not going to believe me and this is going to end badly. I’m sorry for that. I truly am.”
Conrad stopped and turned around. His face was flushed and tears had sprung to his eyes. He looked terrified, ready to run at a second’s notice. Wild sat back down heavily on the couch and sighed. Maybe just let him go. He was too old for this job no one ever asked him to do except for June. She was the only one who could have convinced him that this was anything but a curse. But she had been gone almost thirty years. The kid had not run. He was still standing there for some reason. Maybe he knew. Maybe he sensed something. Wild swallowed hard and tried again.
“You’re going to die today, son, and there’s nothing we can do about it. You can run out that door and down those stairs. You could take a knife from the kitchen drawer and cut my throat. It wouldn’t change anything. There’s nowhere you can run. Believe me, I’ve been trying since before you were born.”
It was silent except for a siren blaring down West Peachtree. The kid didn’t move or make a sound. He didn’t have to. His whole body was shouting the question Wild had faced his entire life: are you fucking crazy? There were times he was convinced that he was, that everything that had ever happened was only in his deluded brain. He looked up at the kid.
“You can go if you want to and take the money too. It’s okay not to believe me, but you risk nothing if you do. If you hear my story and choose to believe me, the worst thing that can happen is you spend this day like it’s your last. If you don't believe me and just go back to work or to your apartment, get stoned, and play video games and this is your last day to be alive, wouldn’t that be a tragedy? You decide.”
Conrad returned to the couch and sat but left the money on the table. People were unpredictable, remarkably so. Wild was momentarily stunned and struggled for where to begin. It was a very long story and it was his story. The kid in front of him had precious few minutes left of his own story. Wild decided to keep it short.
“I have no explanation for it, but ever since I was twenty-three years old, I’ve had the ability to know when anyone I’ve come into physical contact with is going to die. The exact date. I’ve never been wrong. It sounds ridiculous, like something out of a bad movie. It is a bad movie, but it’s also real.”
Conrad’s face grew pale, so pale that Wild feared he was too late and the kid was already dying.
“This is nuts.” The kid was on his feet again, his head in his hands, fingers pulling at the roots of his hair. “Is this what you do, you find some vulnerable kid and fuck with them? You know, I think about dying all the time as it is. I don’t need your help with that.”
“This isn’t how I wanted to spend my day.”
“So, I’m just supposed to believe that you have this magical fucking power that no one in the history of the world has ever had…”
“Honestly, we don’t know that’s true. I mean how would we?” Wild said. “It’s not like there’s an annual convention.”
“But you’ve gotta give me something here. You must have some proof…”
“I wish to God I did. That would’ve made things a lot easier for me. Unfortunately, the dead can’t give testimonials, at least not to me.”
“Okay, then tell me the story of how it first happened.”
“I can, but I don’t think you appreciate the urgency here. I’ll tell you, but first you have to contact your parents, tell them you want to see them today as soon as possible.”
“I don’t have a car.”
“I’ll get you there.”
“What if I don’t want to see them, even if this is my last day on earth?”
The kid’s eyes teared up again before he could get the words out.
“Then that’s your choice, but I don’t really think you feel that way. Why don’t you call them. Say anything you want, but let them hear your voice. Then we can do whatever you like. I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”
Conrad pulled out his phone and was about to dial, but before he did, he spoke.
“This thing you have, it just comes to you when you touch somebody? You just know when they’re gonna die, like it’s a date on a calendar?”
“Yeah, that’s kind of it. A musician friend of mine back in the day had perfect pitch. You could just ask him to sing a D flat or any damned note, anytime, anywhere, and he could nail it every time. He said he saw it in his mind like a color and he knew it as surely as he knew his name. What I have is kind of like that but it’s awful. Now, will you call your mom?”
Conrad made the call. He moved to the far corner of the room and spoke in a whisper with his hand cupped over the phone. Wild took the mugs back into the kitchen and rinsed them in the sink. He never forgot this feeling. He wondered if it was the same for guards on death row. No, this was different. There was the same inevitability, but those prisoners, at least most of them, had made choices that earned them the punishment of knowing the exact day they were going to die. This kid was just trying to start his life and figure out who he was. Knowing it was coming but not knowing how was the worst. It was pain that most people feared more than actually dying. On these departures with narrow windows, it was often a violent death, especially if the headache was severe when the vision came to him. More than once it had occurred to Wild to try to make it easier. Wouldn’t it be better to just go to sleep? But he had never crossed that line. What if he was wrong? It would make him a murderer.
He hadn’t heard the kid slip out but he distinctly heard the heavy outside door at the bottom of the stairs slam shut. He stepped back around into the living room. The money was gone from the coffee table and the door was ajar. He followed, ignoring the shooting pain in his hip and taking the stairs two at a time. Outside, the sunlight was blinding. The kid was running across the back parking lot, weaving between cars toward West Peachtree.
Wild didn’t run after him. He would never be able to catch him and even if he did, what more could he possibly do?
“I’m sorry, kid,” he whispered.
Just as he was about to turn and go back inside, the Georgia Tech whistle blew, marking the top of the hour with its loud throaty call. He saw Conrad stop suddenly and look in the direction of the sound just as he was stepping off the curb to cross the street. The guy on the scooter, late for his first meeting, never even saw him because of the sun. They collided with such force that the scooter pitched over their tumbling bodies end over end like a boomerang. Wild started running.
There was blood all over the asphalt and a dozen twenty-dollar bills were scattered around their bodies, some of them sticking in the blood and others fluttering in the morning breeze. A leather dress shoe like a moccasin lay on the sidewalk, appearing as if the businessman had just stepped out of it. Their bodies were entangled on the pavement in front of a steel storm drain. Conrad was underneath the businessman who wore a helmet. Blood was pooling rapidly around the kid’s head and beginning to flow across the pavement toward the drain. The businessman was moaning loudly and stirring.
The kid was silent. His wide eyes blinked in rapid succession like he was trying to send morse code. Wild gasped and fell to his knees beside the boy. He tried to find his hand but couldn’t so he gently put a hand to Conrad’s cheek, praying as he had so many times for some useful magic. But there was none. He searched for words that he knew would be meaningless so he held the boy’s gaze instead, bearing witness. He held onto the light that remained there until it was gone.
When he heard the sirens, Wild rose to his feet, wincing as his knees popped, and backed away. Cars were stopping and helpful citizens were rushing to the scene. Did seeing death up close change how they saw their lives or did it have the opposite effect? This could never happen to me. As he looked one last time at the broken body of the kid, he was filled with the old rage, the fire that had fueled him continuously to charge at this windmill like a lunatic. He would always fail, even when he achieved his mission.
Wild turned and made his way back to the theater. There would be no walk today.
« Previous Episode | Table of Contents | Next Episode »
Make a New Friend in the Comments
I’ve witnessed a really cool thing happen as I’ve published two other novels online like this. People who love the story and talk about it in the comments each week discover other likeminded readers and other fantastic writers. Many lasting friendships and collaborations start in the comments section. Share your thought and make a friend.
Want More? Check Out My Other Novels
If you’re enjoying “Departures,” chances are you’ll also like my two previously published novels. You can preview the first couple of episodes for free.
In 2052, Magdalena, a brilliant programmer invents a device for telepathic communication with AI, seeking to decode the mind of her twin, the shooter in a school massacre she alone survived, but when she resurrects his consciousness, she unleashes a malevolence that could destroy her. Fans of the movie “Ex Machina” will love this story.
In the reality show competition for Houze, a revolutionary eco-home, six contestants face a winner-takes-all challenge. Beneath the surface of sustainability, altruism battles greed, turning a hopeful vision into a life and death struggle. Fans of “Nine Perfect Strangers” by Liane Moriarty will love this story.
Want to Help?
For independent authors like me who don’t have the support of a big publisher and marketing team, your enthusiastic support for my work means EVERYTHING. You can help others find my books by liking, commenting on, restacking, and sharing episodes like this one with anyone you know who loves to read.
I know how much competes for your time and attention so I’m so grateful you’ve honored me by sharing a portion of it each week. Thank you. ❤️
Love the Music?
If you love the soundtrack for “Departures” you should check out the work of my friend and collaborator
. All the cool sounds you hear that aren’t guitars are his. You can also find links to my catalog of music here as well as Spotify or anywhere you stream music.
Share this post