“We are but rats below deck on a sinking ship.” Voice number 3 lamented in his usual dramatic manner. I rolled my eyes, which he detected immediately, having recently taken residence in my head. I preferred voice number 2 living up there: she was always a bit more calm and collected, when she was awake.
“Can we try for something a little more constructive? Have you figured out how we’re going to convince your daughter I’m not some sort of maniacal stalker? Can’t you think of anything I can tell her about you that would, you know, bring up personal memories or- ”
“She’s my step daughter with my seventh wife. I barely remember the woman’s name, much less her daughter’s.”
“Maybe some monetary incentive would appeal to her. If you tell me what to say in your legalese regarding some sort of inheritance, she might take me seriously.”
“Are you daft?”
“That’s not how it works. A will does not become effective until a testator dies. I’m still gallivanting around in your head, which means I haven’t made it to… the other side.”
“Not all lawyers go to hell.”
“They should.” I spat on the pavement and felt him recoil internally. “Getting to Beatrice’s body was no joke, but you have more security around you than the President. This is ridiculous.”
“I’m worth more than the President.”
“Not for long, and doubly so now that you’re a drooling vegetable.”
“Young man, it is imperative that you succeed on this mission. According to the terms of the contract, if you don’t carry me back to my body, you can’t move on to your beloved. How long do you think she’s willing to wait in limbo for you to rescue her?” He seemed to oscillate between hopelessness and the snappy bark of his former profession. I had enough turmoil to last two lifetimes.
“I know the rules, old man,” I sighed heavily. We were still outside the Regent Memorial Hospital and the threat of rain was no longer in doubt.