The Collector

**Trigger warnings for child death**

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The air inside the house was cool, masking the heat that was bubbling up off the pavement outside. It looked like every other house in the neighborhood, one story and shaded by the shadows of palm trees. I wasn’t dressed for the heat; this had been an unexpected stop and I was wearing jeans and a thick gray sweater. I pushed up my sleeves and took a breath.

“So what’s it going to be?” I asked, sliding my hands into my back pockets. “Do you want to come with me or do you want to stay swimming in the pool?”

The little boy looked up at me with big brown eyes and bit his lip. He was exactly eight and a half years old and his name was Zach, maybe short for Zachary but maybe not. He was dressed in bright blue swim trunks with little turtles on them. “I want to swim in the pool.”

I looked at him for a hard minute. “Are you sure?”

He nodded. “Yes. I love swimming.”

I gave him a sad little smile and a nudge. “Alright then,” I said. “On you go.”

He gave me a big grin and ran out of the house through the double glass patio doors and jumped straight into the pool, doing a big cannonball. I watched for a few minutes as he did laps and backflips, handstands and cartwheels, having the time of his life out there in the water. I almost wanted to join him; that’s how fun he made it look. But kids do that. They have an uncanny way of making anything they’re doing seem like the greatest thing in the world. It’s that innocence. But I couldn’t get in the pool, I thought with a sigh. I had a job to do.

I watched him for a little bit longer and then glanced at my watch. It was time for me to go. He wouldn’t notice I was gone for a little while longer anyway. He was completely oblivious to everything that was happening around him. His entire existence right now centered around the pool. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had already forgotten that I was standing there, staring at him. I wanted to ask him again, if he was truly sure, but I knew I couldn’t do that either. I had asked and he had provided an answer. There was nothing left for me to do.

My hands were stiff in my back pockets so I took them out and massaged them as I walked away from the glass doors and stepped out the front door, closing it quietly behind me. The black town car was waiting for me out front as expected. I crossed the sunbaked yard and slid into the backseat, nodding at the driver. It was Henry today.

“Hey, Madison,” he said, winking at me in the rearview mirror.

“Hi, Henry. Is Albert out today?”

“Yeah,” he replied. “His wife has a fever and their kid caught it, so he’s playing doctor today.” He let out a big yawn and peered at the house, as if waiting for someone to come out and join us. “Alone, I see.”

“Yeah,” I echoed, sneaking a peek at the front door, too. My voice sounded hollow to my own ears. “It was a little kid this time. He chose to stay swimming in the pool.”

“Swimming?” Henry asked, cocking an eyebrow. He put the car in drive. “How’d he die?”

“Drowning,” I said, snorting humorlessly. “Of course.”

He let out a low whistle and pulled away from the curb. “That’s rough,” he said. “Children are always rough. They always choose to stay. Very few make the choice to go on. He drowned in his own pool?”

“Seems like it,” I muttered as we made our way down the block. “You know, I remember the first kid I had to collect.” And I did. A twelve year old girl named Rebecca who liked to go by Rebby. Her dark brown hair had been in pigtails and she had been wearing a pink jumpsuit the day she was murdered. The torso of the jumpsuit had been covered in blood, but Rebby hadn’t seemed to notice. All she knew was that she didn’t like where she was and she wanted to leave. She didn’t register the blood but she did register that something was wrong. A child took my hand that day, but they didn’t always.

“It’s because they don’t understand,” I continued, perhaps a little more forcefully than intended. I bit my lip. “They don’t understand. They shouldn’t be doing this alone. I’m just a Collector. I can’t give them any advice, I can’t steer them in the right direction. They have to make the choice. At least the adults… they understand. Maybe not all of them do, but enough do to make the decision that is best for them. But kids just want to have fun. They don’t understand the consequences of their actions. You know he didn’t even ask me who I was or what I was doing there? He didn’t even seem to realize that wasn’t his house or his pool.”

Henry didn’t say anything for a few seconds. “Big speech for you, Madison,” he said, the car crawling to a stop at a stop sign. “Are you going to pitch it to the big boss?” His tone was slightly mocking but his eyes were kind as they met mine through the rearview mirror.

“No,” I said, shaking my head. I snuck another glance out the back window towards the house and saw the little boy had come out to the front yard. Even with the distance I could tell that he was staring at the car, but he didn’t move. My heart hurt. He had ended up leaving the pool after all. But it didn’t matter anymore. The decision had been made. “It’s too late anyway,” I murmured, looking back at Henry, who was also staring at the boy in the rearview mirror. We sat in silence for a minute and Henry sighed.

He kept driving.