Tobias Weiss.

Chapter 19

© 2013 by tore56789 (GOS) All rights reserved.

                                                  The year, 2006

Tobias Weiss, never would have believed in a millions years, his destiny was to one day –if not trying time after time –to save mankind.  If all truth be said, he assumed his life was just to drift into the same boring old shoes his father wore, running the Weiss Funeral Directory Services, in a simple mid western US town.  Even, from the early age of twelve, he had started training him for that post.  How to pump the blood from the cadavers, along with the other preparations, dress, cosmetics, choosing the final resting apparatus for a loved one; and of course sit-ins, where his father gave comfort and support to the bereaved –as all part of the livelihood of the town mortician –as he supported them on their choice of casket, and final means of the disposal of a corpse, whether burial or cremation.

Only about ten minutes before, he had stepped into this person.  He knew straight away everything about her –like accessing data from off a hard drive.  He knew her occupation, her life, her memories; and more importantly, what she had in her account, and if she carried plastic, or some firearm.

This was all that mattered.  As he had no idea how long he was going to remain inside this girl, before being pulled out again, and tossed elsewhere, into another place and time.  He guessed this would be like the sixth female body he had occupied.  One thing he was grateful for when being thrown into females.  He only occupied their higher awareness.  Lower thought processes, like simply acting feminine, weren’t affected.  So, he had no worries of some beautiful woman he might take over, suddenly opening her legs wide, while sitting amongst people.  Or scratching some deep itch on her bottom, and raising up her dress in the process.  These little things he was grateful for.  That even with him inside, that person still ran on in automatic, and still held onto control of their lower mental functional skills.

He looked over at an elderly man next to his wife, reading a newspaper, having the page neatly folded over, as it rested a bit down from his face.  It was the New York Post.  It was dated Saturday 10th of June 2006.  Immediately he did his maths, and worked out, his target was perhaps real young, at that time, and maybe only as little as nine or ten years of age.  He also knew he was living in the state of Maine, in New England, at that moment. 

After something like twelve, fourteen, failed attempts, he had come to know his query real well.  Come to know his cunning.  And the knowledge he had escaped death more times that he wanted to think about. 

Now, again, he was packing.  He knew the beautiful girl he was occupying had a snub nose 38 revolver in her bag. (Amazingly, all this, this time around, was at his control)  A present from her husband three years before, after she had been sexually molested by a patient, she treated, in a sanatorium she worked at, in New York.  He knew the fact she choose to wear slacks, as she was doing now, instead of clothing that exposed her legs, was all thanks to that incident.  Even the fact, she chose not to sit with young men on a train alone, but the safer company of the elderly, was also thanks to that.

With $200,000 in her account, accessible with a Gold-Card, he decided he was exiting the train at the next suitable big town, which allowed him some outlet to buy a car on plastic.  And with that, he checked the girl’s watch.  Saw the time was 14.00. Outside, countryside shot past, showing farms and wide open fields at times, to patches of varying colours of yellow –before returning to nothingness once more –but the vastness of the east coast’s emptiness. 

Then he heard a call coming over the intercom.  That next stop was coming up.   He recognized the name.  Knew it was a big enough place, and would have to do.  As he was well aware even only twenty minutes inside the woman – he could be ousted in twenty one.  Many a time he had gotten so close to reaching him, the boy, Peter Reece, only to be pulled out of his host, at that last moment!

Just then he realised it was important too he got off the train, as it was travelling in an entirely different direction.  And time was after all, his most precious commodity.