The Gatekeeper's Son (40 page)

A little over six hours later, the exhausted man dropped me off beside Highway 62, several miles east of Twentynine Palms. With the nearest town miles away, I was alone under a dome of a billion stars, something I had time to appreciate now, perhaps for the first time in my life. And like the sky, things were clearer now.

The eastern sky grew pink, silhouetting distant jagged mountains. I’d always wanted to see a sunrise in the desert. As the light grew, it revealed strange-looking trees with long prickly branches, low bushes, and piles of huge smooth stones. At first glance, the desert seemed empty, but I could feel life, hear the scurrying of small creatures.

A large diamondback rattlesnake lay coiled nearby on a smooth slab of granite. We sat side by side, lulled into awe by the wonder of the dawn. The birds kept up a constant chatter. For them, the night was almost over. But the darkness in my heart was deep, and even the light of day couldn’t touch it.

I glanced at the snake. Its tongue flicked out every so often, unconcerned by my presence. Its energy was in sync with mine. We’d been drawn to each other for a reason yet unknown, so together we watched a thin slice of sun peek over the distant mountains, casting long shadows, bringing light but not yet warmth to the cold ground. I’d worn my leather jacket over a T-shirt but it wasn’t enough to keep me warm. Oh, well—in less than three hours, this rocky land would become an inferno.

I looked at the snake. “I bet you’ve seen this a thousand times.”

The snake flicked its tongue and stood its rattle up a little higher, perhaps a little more proudly. As the sun cleared the mountains, the snake slithered off toward the rocks. I called after it. “You’ll help me find it?”

The snake looked back at me, flicked its tongue, and disappeared among the rocks. I lifted the heavy canvas bag, checked my katana and bokuto, and followed the snake.

I heard the rattle and, not long after, found the snake coiled in the shade. When it saw me, it stopped rattling and tested the air with its tongue. In the pile of rocks behind the snake I found a narrow vertical opening, just big enough to fit through if I crouched. Without help, I’d never have found the entrance—the opening was invisible from a yard away. The cave itself was roomy, large enough for three or four men, and surprisingly bright, with daylight streaming through the gaps between the boulders overhead. The ceiling was black from ancient fires. I sensed nothing, good or bad—it was a cave, nothing more. I unloaded the gold and stacked it near the back wall. My watch went on the top of the pile.

“That’s all of it,” I said as I stood up.

The earth gave a small rumble. I reached for the wall, nervous, but only a gust of wind passed over the rocks. It blew sand through the cracks.

I crawled out of the cave. The heat struck me and I stumbled. Another gust of wind roared toward me, spinning and twisting, becoming a dust devil as it boiled across the dirt road. I ducked back inside the cave to escape it.

Inside, I stopped dead. There was a layer of dust on the pile of gold now, and the watch was gone. The earth gave another shudder, more violent this time. The ground moaned and rattled, sending dust and small rocks down onto me.

After what seemed like hours, the earth became silent and I crawled back out of the cave. I braced for the heat, but instead a cool breeze touched me. The mountains were the same but the desert was gone. Now banana trees and date palms swayed in the warm breeze, the rocks replaced by deep green vegetation.

Somehow, I was on the other side.

A thin trail led away from the cave and I followed it, wary but enjoying the squawk of parrots and the feel of the breeze on my face. I pulled a mango off a low branch, peeled the thick skin with my teeth, and ate it as I walked, juice dripping off my chin. But even here I felt the darkness inside me. My bokuto and katana were heavy, but I’d need them soon enough. Shoko had tried to kill me. I knew she, or others, would try again.

After a few minutes I came to a wide clearing with a stream trickling through the center. Off to the side, under a stand of date palms, stood a pueblo-style hut, a mud block structure with a straw roof—the same one I’d seen when I was daydreaming on Grandpa’s hospital bed. I walked through the soft grass and peered through the doorway.

“Come in, James.”

The inside was humble but comfortable, with colorful woven rugs on the dirt floor, a simple wooden bed, and a low table. Square-cut timbers crossed above me, supporting the straw roof. Grandpa sat on a straw mat, looking healthy and strong.

He smiled. “Come inside. I promise this won’t hurt a bit.” He motioned with his hand and I sat on the rug across from him. He looked more relaxed than I’d ever seen him, and happier, too. Before I could assemble a reply, two young girls, with almond skin and dark shiny hair, maybe ten or eleven years old, entered the hut. They wore white robes and beaded turquoise jewelry, and they carried earthen bowls overflowing with fruit, nuts and dates. After they placed the bowls on the mat, they knelt nearby, their faces impassive but their eyes curious.

“I put the gold back,” I said.

He nodded.

“So what are we doing here?”

He chuckled. “I thought maybe you could tell me. I assume I’m dead.”

“You’re not dead.” I was quite sure of that.

“Too bad. I would happily stay here forever.”

I motioned around us. “What is this place?”

“This is where I woke up after the old Indian found me in the desert.” His face was radiant, lost in his memories, before a cloud moved across his features. Maybe, like me, he was waiting for the Gatekeepers to come again—but the only movement outside was the swaying of the grass and the rustle of palm leaves.

“I wish I could change things,” he whispered.

“The gold wasn’t the treasure. You know that, right?”

He sighed. “The gold was real. I could feel its weight, feel its power.” He shook his head. “To me it was the road to the happiness I craved.”

“But you live like a prisoner.”

He shrugged. “We make our own hell. I made my deal with Bartholomew, and off I went to conquer the world.” He thought for a while. “But later, wealth and power began to lose their luster.” He spread his arms to take in everything around us. “I understand now. This place was the treasure. The gold became my obsession.”

“When I saw you with that machine gun, … you were like a stranger to me.”

His eyes met mine. “Deep down I always knew Bartholomew wanted the map but it was mine to keep … and protect. It was my ticket back here.” He shrugged. “The only thing that kept me going was the thought of this place.” He stared down at his hands, turning them over. “Where did my dreams go?” He looked up at me. “This wasn’t supposed to be my destiny.”

I stared at him, feeling sad. It was as if he never knew that his life was his to make. When he looked back at me, his eyes were hollow and expressionless.

“They watched me all my life, afraid of what Bartholomew might do or what I might become.”

“You know all that?”

“I know it now.”

I became annoyed at him. “You have choices—you’ve always had choices. Maybe not with Tomi, but you had a chance to get out, to give the gold back—to live a different life. Look at what I’ve inherited from you.”

“Well, I’m not going back.” He reached for a plump date. “There’s nothing left for me but a world of lies—theirs and mine. Maybe in death I can find peace.”

I stood and walked out into the sunlight. A few minutes later, he followed me.

“You go back, Grandpa, and make things right. Don’t leave us. Don’t leave Lin.”

His gaze dropped to the ground.

“You can become a new man if you want.”

He shook his head. “It’s too late.”

“Bartholomew will leave you alone. I’m going to make sure of that.”

His eyes widened. “How? What can—”

“He wants to meet me.”

He stared at me a long moment. “There’s no such thing as a fair deal.”

“We’ll see. Now go back.”

He shook his head. “Go back to what?”

I glared at him. “If you really can’t see what’s waiting for you, don’t bother.” I turned away. “You’re such an idiot.”

“Guess it runs in the family.”

CHAPTER

40

I returned to the cave and passed back through the gateway, back to the wicked heat of the Mojave. When I emerged, the diamondback was coiled not far from the cave entrance, its rattle shaking like a maraca. I stopped about five feet away, not liking the energy it was giving off.

“What’s wrong?”

It shot out at me, its mouth open wide, its fangs bared. My katana sliced through the air. The snake’s headless body swung away and thumped against the rocks, but its head, still very much alive, sank its fangs deep into my left forearm.

I screamed and dropped the katana, but the bodiless head held on, jaws locked, fangs buried deep into the muscle. I slammed my arm into a boulder again and again until the head finally came off. It bounced once and came to rest on the sand.

I fell to my knees, clutching my arm. It felt like someone had hit it with a red-hot sledgehammer. I stared at the snake’s head. Its eyes still showed life, its tongue still moved.

Then I understood. I was alone in the Mojave, without water, with a poisonous snake bite—a death sentence.

Bartholomew was waiting for me.

My energy drained away like water wrung from a sponge and the desert sand sucked it up, leaving no trace of it, taking me with it.

I fumbled with my leather jacket and left it on the ground. I did a slow spin, assessing each direction, wondering where I should go—not that it mattered. A gust of wind surged past me and sent a dried-up sage bush tumbling toward the shimmering haze to the east. I followed it.

The pain radiated from the four small holes and was getting worse. I managed to walk for about half an hour, weaving between the boulders and small bushes, trying to pick the straightest route between them. The sun was high and hot, well over a hundred degrees. I stopped and looked around. There was nothing to see, just sand and boulders, all the way to the distant mountains.

I was tired, more tired than I would have imagined I could be. The pain was horrible and I couldn’t move my left arm. The forearm was twice its normal size, swollen like a red water balloon. I sat on a flat rock and mopped my face with the bottom of my shirt to get the grit and sweat off. I looked at the shirt—it was dry. I wasn’t even sweating. Well, that was good; it must not have been as hot as I’d thought. Screw Bartholomew. I’d make it to the highway, to help, after all.

A nice cold drink would have been great, and the thought of it got me up, but as I stood I got a head rush far worse than any brain freeze. My head throbbed and I staggered, holding my head. I looked around through half-open eyes. I needed to figure out which way to go, but I wondered why I even cared. I was sleepy and the heat was nice, so unlike the cold and fog of San Francisco, and it wasn’t that hot after all.

I looked down at my feet, confused. They weren’t cooperating. I was kicking stones, shuffling through the sand like a toddler. Little cacti, balls the size of brussels sprouts, stuck to my socks. Brussels sprouts—I hated them! Okaasan said they tasted like candy, but she must have eaten some horrible candy in her time. Maybe while she was washing clothes in the creek.

That was so funny that my eyes must have filled with tears. Why else would everything be blurry?

Three steps later I dropped to my knees. I was so tired, so very tired.

It surprised me when my face hit the sand.

I hit the ground so hard it knocked the breath out of me. I lay gasping on the cool grass. Grass? The smell of the earth filled my nose while the sun warmed my back. It wasn’t the heat of the desert—this was just regular old sunshine. The songs of birds and the buzzing of insects filled the air, but my mind was quiet. No feelings came to me, no sensations of evil or good—there was nothing. I felt like my old self, before Shoko had awakened me.

I still had my bokuto and katana. When I could manage it, I opened my eyes and looked around. Surprised, I rose onto one elbow to get a better look. I lay on the bottom of a wide canyon, a lush green place, watered by a wide shallow river that left the air cool and pleasant. Trees grew near the river but thinned out as the canyon sides sloped up into red and gray granite walls that climbed hundreds of feet above me.