Maitho closed his eyes and sighed. "How much do I owe? Come on, just say it and get the hell out of here."

There was brief silence, long enough for Maitho to wonder if the man had left the room. When he opened his eyes, he was treated to the still present sight of dark, emotionless eyes staring right back at him, as though they were waiting from him to focus on them. "You don't owe me anything. At least not yet. Please, indulge me. I mean you no harm and even if you think I do, what's the worst that could happen by telling me what you want?"

The man had a point. If he was there for reasons that were indeed nefarious, it wasn't as though Maitho could do anything about them. It felt odd experiencing hope drain away to such an extent that impending danger was nothing to ponder about. Maitho's fight-or-flight instincts seemed to have taken a vacation, leaving a void empty of concern or self-empathy.

"I could use a job," said Maitho, reflecting upon his employment status. It was the only thing that came to his mind; the idea that he did not have a job to even take care of his basic needs. Or pay bills.

"Obviously," said the man, as though he was expecting the answer. At that moment, Maitho realized that the man hadn't spoken anything to cause concern. He wasn't making threats. He wasn't ordering Maitho to do anything. He seemed simply curious. "I am here to offer you something. You can think of it as a job. But it is more of a partnership."

"What kind of partnership?"

"The life saving kind."

Maitho hadn't been part of many social interactions in the past few years, but he was fairly confident that he was a somewhat good judge of character. The man sitting near him held no humor or mischief in his eyes. There was no madness there.

"How are you going to save my life?" said Maitho.

The man sat back in his chair and relaxed, as though he was waiting for Maitho to ask the question. He ran his hand along his tie again.

"I will pay for your medical bills."

The response was so sudden that Maitho could not speak for a moment. When the meaning of the words struck him, it pierced through the tension and hopelessness that was building up inside him. It was like opening a valve and entirely releasing what it was holding back.

Maitho burst out laughing, despite the pain the action caused. He allowed himself to vent out the dread and despair that he was holding on to. More tears formed in his eyes, his vision looking like he was underwater. He didn't know how much time had passed, but when he brought himself under control and rubbed his eyes, he noticed the man simply staring back without even showing a modicum of fluctuation in his facial expression.

Maitho felt slightly better, and with that, gained a little more clarity. A thought entered his mind.

"If it is a partnership, then I have to provide something in return," said Maitho.

"Yes."

"Mister...?"

"Charon"

"Like the mythical ferryman" said Maitho, a hint of amusement entering his voice. "Is that your real name?"

"It is."

"If I take your passport, do I find Charon as the first name."

"I don't have a passport. I don't need one."

The man's response spoke of power. Clearly, whoever he was talking to wasn't a reporter. He didn't work with law enforcement, since they carried IDs with them. Was he related to an embassy? Did they travel around without official documents?

"Do you work for a government?" said Maitho.

"Of sorts," came the reply. The man didn't even blink when he spoke. He was either telling the truth, or was a skilled liar.

"And what are you here to ferry, Mr. Charon?"

"Hope."

Maitho wondered if all of this was one big con. Sometimes, crazy people are able to conceal their craziness well to the point that they appear to function as normal people.

"What will I have to do?"

The man paused before responding, as though he was contemplating how best to phrase the message. "You will be a guardian."

"I am not interested in a religious cult."

"Nor will you be part of one."

"And I am not going to hurt people."

"On the contrary, you will be saving them."

Thoughts began to worm their way into Maitho's mind. Was he really that desperate that he will accept a stranger's proposal? Why was he even having a conversation with this man? Surely there must be another solution. Maitho hoped fervently that he was not about to become a messenger to a crime syndicate or sign up for an illegal organ harvesting enterprise. Yet he felt no aggressiveness or threat emanating from Charon. Of course, he couldn't lower his guard down because of a feeling.

"What tasks does this guardian role entail?" said Maitho.

Charon took a deep deep breath before proceeding. "You will be given a vision. In the vision, you will witness someone dying. You will also receive a name. Your task is to save the person. If you do, you get one month to live. And if you don't, you will not survive the end of the month."

The words uttered by Charon sounded so absurd, that Maitho could only ask a simple question. "Why one month?"

Charon stood up from his chair and looked down at Maitho. His face was still placid, but there was suddenly a look of gravity in his eyes that worried Maitho. "Because you are dying. Your accident was fatal, despite how well you think you feel. You really have only one month left to live. I can provide you a temporary lease on life. So what do you say Maitho Oruba?"

The sound of a car's horn jolted Maitho out of his reverie. He shook the lingering effects of the memory and focused on his driving. A few more turns on the road and he would arrive at his destination.

When he reached the café, he was thankful for an empty parking spot. He parked his car in reverse so that he could make a quick getaway if the time came for it. He exited the vehicle and looked around, trying to see if there were any suspicious individuals around. The street was empty and Maitho felt a small amount of tension dissipate within him.

He entered the café. The establishment itself presented an atmosphere that one can find in most cafes; yellow lighting that cast a warm light, walls decorated with abstract art that was supposed to appeal to a certain generation, and walnut-colored tables that were probably used to present an earthy feel to the whole place. A few of the tables were occupied, but Maitho found one table at the corner that would give him a clear view of the entrance.

He checked his pockets and counted the money he had on him, and then proceeded to match his available funds to the prices on the large menu behind the café counter.

Apparently, he could only afford a bottle of water and a small muffin. Or he could have two bottles of water. He considered his options for a while and then walked up to the café counter. The barista manning the cash register presented him with a smile that did not reach her eyes, as though she was saying that she was meant for better things in life but sadly, she took the job to keep the cash flow steady. Maitho understood that. He had taken steadiness over everything else when he had been presented with a choice. It was the only sensible thing to do. Or perhaps sensibilities were not the justification as much as desperation was.

"Do you have anything that is very spicy?" said Maitho.

The lady behind the counter looked at Maitho as though he had suddenly performed a jig in a clown uniform. "No, I am afraid we don't."

"Never mind. A bottle of water, please. And that red velvet muffin."

The barista punched in his order while Maitho counted his money. In the end, he placed the entire wad of bills on the counter. When his order arrived in a tray, he was satisfied to notice that they had placed a stainless steel knife and fork for the muffin.

Maitho gave her a warm smile, collected his tray, and walked over to his table. On his way, he pocketed the knife. He was now armed, albeit with crude weapons. Facing the entrance, he unscrewed the bottle cap and downed nearly half the contents of the container, allowing the cool liquid inside it to calm his nerves.

The café won't be open for the entire night and Maitho would have to find a place to lie down and catch a few hours of sleep. He could sleep in his car in front of the café, which meant that the morning crowd that entered the coffee shop would not only wake him up, but would give him some comfort in numbers. After all, no one would attack him in broad daylight with a large number of witnesses.

But what about when he was asleep?

Maitho realized that the only reason he chose this café was that while it was crowded, it wasn't too crowded. If he had chosen to be somewhere in the middle of the city, then he would be looking at the faces of every person who passed him by. Did someone give him a suspicious look? Why is that individual walking that way towards him?

There was no other way to put it, but Maitho was getting paranoid. He couldn't help it. His life was exposed and the thought that someone had been watching his every moment for who knew how long made his skin crawl. He had never found himself in a situation such as this. And he hated himself for feeling jumpy.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he did not notice the figure standing next to his car, looking directly at him.

Maitho watched the figure through the ceiling to floor windows of the café, hoping that the person had him mistaken him for someone else. He sat back in his chair and surreptitiously placed his hands on his thighs, ready to take out the knife he had in his pocket.

After another few seconds of waiting, the figure entered the café. He slowly walked towards Maitho's table.

Maitho cautiously slipped his hands in his pocket, grabbing the handle of the knife. If it came down to it, he would fight back, even though there would be witnesses. He would worry about the consequences later. Even though he would not attack to kill, he could inflict enough damage to provide him with an opportunity to escape.

The figure walking towards him was a red-haired young man with freckles on his face. He looked to be around Maitho's age. The man came to a stop a few feet away from Maitho's table.

He is keeping his distance, Maitho thought. That's actually smart. This is no ordinary civilian. Perhaps more of Cray's men?

The young man had a smile on this face, as though he was here to meet a friend. Probably a disarming technique.

"I know how this might seem, but I come in peace," said the red-haired man.

"That is left to be seen," said Maitho.

The man raised his hands in mock surrender. "My name is Bevan Lugos. I get a three month time period to save someone from death. And I am here to tell you that you are not alone."