Free Unkillable by Patrick E. McLean Page A

place he offered his hand for a shake. “You’re one of the brotherhood then, a fellow traveller. Pleased to meet you, uh...”
    I took his hand and as he shook it vigorously, I said, “Dan. My Name is Dan.”
    Jack’s face fell a little bit at that. “Well you’ll be needing an alias then. A nom de guerre as it were?”
    “So you’ll help us?” I asked as he climbed off of me.
    “’Help them? Your friends?”
    I nodded, realizing how strange it was to have friends for the first time -- friends of necessity, but real friends nonetheless -- only after I was dead.
    Jack shook his head quickly back and forth. “No, no, no, you’ll not want me to give them my assistance. But you. Ye might learn a fthing or two. Walk with me. I get nervous without the fog in me lungs and the feel of the cobbles betwixted me toes.”
    “It’s New York,” I protested, “There aren’t any cobblestones…”
    But he was gone and my words addressed an open, empty door.

    * * * * *

    Chapter 15
     
    The wooden heels of Jack’s boots made a strange sound as he walked through the city streets. His steps were light and fast and I struggled to keep up. He took turn after turn after turn, moving through crowds, alleys, cross-town traffic, and restaurants all with equal ease.
    I have no idea how long we walked.
    Finally, the sound of his boots changed. Somehow, the sound of his footfalls became more right, more fitting.
    “Ah,” he said, “That’s better.”
    I looked down and I’ll be damned if we weren’t walking along a street paved with large round stones. “Cobblestones?”
    “They’re here my, young friend. Not on many streets, and none of them are long or, perhaps long for this world, but they’re. Here. And ‘tis long enough to serve our promenade. Now, questions.”
    “Are you a good guy or a bad guy?”
    “My son, my son, it’s not quite as simple as all that-- there’s a bit more commerce betwixt the light and the dark than yout might imagine. For example–” And here he did a little jig on the uneven stones, “Imagine I was a murderer most foul. Not a Bonny Jack, a Dandy Jack as you see before you, but a Red Jack, covered in the blood. And if in my revels, a small dove was to come and sit on my shoulder and say, “No, this one, no that one,” and move my hand ever so slightly. Well then, what’s it matter to me? I’m on the job anyway. And happy to help those that help me.”
    “So what are you saying?”
    “One hand washes the other, give and take. But your rat friend, he’s not playing along is he? He’s in it for himself. Got what you might call, ambition.”
    “And what are you in it for?”
    “Ho, ho, too right. Too right. Clever boy. It’s a wonder you didn’t manage to live longer. Well, you might say I’m grateful to you for bringing me back. But you didn’t manage to do that all on you own. So, let’s choose to believe that I’m here as a favor. Tell you what’s what -- sort you out a bit.”
    “You’re a teacher?”
    At this, Jack barked a laugh. “That coat doesn’t quite fit me does it? Look, if you’d know the truth of it, you’ve been presented,” and here a nervous little courtly bow, “presented as it were, with a marvelous opportunity. You’ve been given the chance to widen your horizons. It’s a great adventure.”
    “That’s pretty easy for you to say, you’re still warm-blooded.”
    “Oh, Dan. Daniel – you know that name doesn’t suit you. You really need another. A coronation name.”
    “It’s my name.”
    “It’s a shame is what it is.”
    “Are you going to tell me what I’m mixed up in or not?”
    “Alright, alright. It’s like this. Good, Evil, they don’t exist.”
    “What do you mean they don’t exist?”
    “Well, I mean, they exist in the storybooks, of course. But out here, in the night air, there’s no such thing. And it’s confusing, because people have instincts. Take this healthy lass,” Jack said, pointing to a women through a bay