The Call

Abbott hates the way he puts himself before others, wishing he were more selfless, like his supposed soulmate Finn, who he would be with forever if he hadn’t taken a bullet for Abbott. Literally.

He remembers the day it happened. The blood waterfalling out of Finn’s chest; the gurgling of his throat as he breathed one final time, his Abbott’s eyes locking with his from across the room before he never saw again. Abbott tried to get over there, he really did, but he wasn’t fast enough. That bullet was meant for him, and he knows it.

He wishes he could talk to his Finn again, just one last time. That’s when he started searching.

He remembers picking up the first business card and slipping it into his wallet. The bold print across the top declaring, “Out-Of-This-World Medium! Connect with the Other Side!”

He called the number that night; but received only a voicemail asking him to wire a thousand dollars to Kabul. He sighed deeply and hung up the phone.

Since then, he’s called fifty or sixty more numbers, but to no avail: scams, all going straight to voicemail.

Abbott has one number left on his list, and after that, it’s over. With shaking fingers he dials the phone, circling around to each number. Three... four... seven...

He takes a deep but shaky breath and lifts the receiver.

Raising it to his ear, he pauses. It rings three times... four... and then he hears the click on the other line.

An all-too familiar voice answers, gruffly whispering, exactly like the very last time he spoke, that fateful day:

“Abbott?”