Mr. Gateman

We call him Mr. Gateman.

A group of tourists find he wandering by de blue lake. And Mr. Gateman is the strangest case I ever come across in twenty-five years as a cleaner at de mental hospital.

Before I retire and had to fight down NIS for my benefits.

Them time duh, the job didn’t pay me enough to care. They barely pay me enough to keep a roof over me and muh ailing father heads. But when the orderlies bring in Mr. Gateman, couple things stood out right away.

Yuh ever see a old, young man? Well Mr. Gateman was a old, young ma n. That was de first thing. Instead of black hair with a hint of white, Mr. Gateman had white hair with a hint of black, in self styled braids. That, he rounded shoulders and he haunched back, screamed old age.

Yet still, he face de young! Mr. Gateman looked younger than me and I was thirty four at de time. De man look like he still had he baby face from school!

The second thing was his composure. I accustomed to seeing, from a safe distance, inmates dragged in biting, kicking and screaming. Dem always protesting dem innocence. Dem always accusing everybody but themselves, of being de mad ones.

Not Mr. Gateman. He was de calmest mad man I ever see. The first day, he kept muttering something about "Coalinoir" and “the gates. Who will watch the gates?"

After duh, Mr. Gateman never spoke a word to a soul for de next three months.

In or out of his cell, he would stand there raising one hand like he waving and pulling he other hand like he opening a gate. Suh till de other inmates would copy he. They would all wave and pull during breakfast, lunch and dinner. Like if dem choreograph this thing. We let them because, well, de inmates were so busy concentrating that dem forget to mek mischief.

Then one day, he stop. And that mek de other inmates angry. They were like sheep, lost without dem shepherd. We had to confine he to he cell, cause every time he come out anded inmates didn’t get what they want, we would nearly have a riot. I for one de glad they put Mr. Gateman back in he box.

Cause deh didn’t pay me enough fuh help control a riot.

The first time to my knowledge dat Mr. Gateman ever spoke, it was to me. Lucky me eh? Well I definitely didn’t feel lucky, with how de conversation went

I was sweeping the corridor outside he door.

“I’m sorry,” a quiet, kindly voice said.

Listen! This voice was so quiet, so sudden, for a minute I stop and wonder if is jumbie I hearing! So I stood there holding my breath for like a minute or so.

Well after a minute or two of lack of breathing, I say yuh know what? I mussy overworking myself. Ah suppose to get couple leave days, I gon apply for it.

I continued sweeping.

“My condolences,” the kind voice spoke again.

I was always a big fella, but yuh shoulda see how quick I run to Mr. Gateman cell door and peep in.

He was sitting cross legged in the middle of the floor, staring at me. Most of his face was in shadow, but I could see the whites of his eyes.

“Yuh just say something?” I asked, my voice trembling.

“Yes,” Mr. Gateman said, a hint of impatience creeping into his voice. “I’m telling you condolences on your father’s death. And I’m sorry you never got the closure you longed for.”

If you cut me at that moment, you wouldn’t have seen blood. I left my father at home that morning, in good spirits. Closure? How could he know I craved closure, from reliving the memories of my childhood. A childhood where my parents got into shouting matches and called each other nasty names. Where the slightest mistake could trigger my father and earn me a belt whipping.

My father lived with me now. But I was yet to have these conversations with him because he was suffering from alzheimer's.

After not hearing from him for over ten years, McKenzie hospital called me last year to come pick him up. Mom died four years ago. I was the only kin that responded to the call.

I didn’t have friends or family to confide all this into. So how de hell Mr. Gateman could know I need closure?

Well, I ended my shift right there and then and rush home. I found the old man slumped across the arm of he favorite chair.

I asked my workplace for a month’s compassionate leave. They gave me two weeks. Enough to organize a lil funeral for my father. De only thing I felt during that time was numbness. Except for the occasional flash of anger every time I got hugs from relatives who were completely missing in action when I needed help with my old man.

Not one soul from my work even show up at de wake or de funeral! Can you imagine duh? Anyway, the year of taking care of my father, then planning his funeral, bled out all my lil savings ah work ten years fuh.

I couldn't even afford to quit.

I was still numb when I got back to work. Numb with worry over money. And knowing I would never get closure for a childhood lost.

One day, Psychiatrist Dr. Andrew Anderson stopped me in the corridor and patted me on the shoulder.

“Sorry for your loss Freddie. And sorry I couldn’t come to the funeral. Things so busy here,” the doctor said. He pursed his lips and frowned.

I nodded, keeping my eyes downwards and he hurried off.

“Gateman say anything else?” I blurted before I could stop myself.

Dr. Anderson swiveled on his heels, an excited gleam in his piercing eyes. “Anything else? Did he say something to you?”

I wanted to konks my forehead with my mop stick.

“No doc,” I said, forcing a smile and glancing away. “I don’t know wuh ah saying.”

The doctor looked disappointed, though he eyes narrowed.

“Yes… grief does have that effect,” Anderson said. I nodded and turned to go. But I could feel the doctor’s eyes on me.

Before my shift ended, I visited Mr. Gateman again.

“How you know bout muh father?” I demanded, peeping into the little barred window.

There was silence fuh so long, I thought d man sleeping. I turn to go.

“I know alot, Freddie Arthur,” the man said. “For instance, I know you will continue to feel hollow and dead inside, until you have your closure.”

I turn and slide down d door until I was on d floor, my back braced against it.

“Well, he dead and buried,” I muttered. “He doan even know the mess he leff behind. And me ain’t get closure to get. At least, not anytime soon.”

“He’s not as dead as you think he is,” Mr. Gateman said. “I can grant you an audience with him. If you free me.”

When I hear duh I jump up. My heart was beating like an African drum. Wuh kinda madness this man telling me?

“You crazy!”

Mr. Gateman chuckled. “I have occasional mental breakdowns, yes. But I’m very sane right now, even though you continue to keep me locked up like a common criminal.”

“Duh’s above my pay grade,” I muttered, looking at my threadbare sneakers.

“True. But you can do the right thing now. Free me and I swear, you’ll get your closure with your father.”

Duh’s when a suspicion sneaked its way into my mind. This man way of getting me closure with my father, would be to kill me as soon as I release him!

“I gah go,” I muttered and hurried away.

For over a month, I avoided the corridor with Mr. Gateman’s door. To the extent where Dr. Anderson even call me in he office fuh pull me up about not doing my duties. While he shouted I avoided eye contact. It was my way of not antagonizing him any further. But he still threatened to fire me!

Things wasn’t going so well in my personal life either. I sulked and completely isolated myself in my- at the time- modest, two bedroom flat wooden house. I hadn't come across the good fortune that gave me this four bedroom, two story concrete house I am sitting in right now, telling you this story while the A.C blowing. Yet.

During that month, I ain’t had no peace. I finally gave up and a night, before my shift ended, I was outside his door again.

“You’re back,” Mr. Gateman quietly said . There was no surprise in his voice.

“Yes.”

We kept each other’s company in silence for about five minutes. Silence broken every now and then by the distant slamming of doors or voices.

“I realize you have no reason to trust me,” Mr. Gateman’s voice intruded, making me jump. I was starting to doze off, slumped on the floor with my back to the door. “But I would like to give you one.”

“One ah wuh?” I asked. Ah de wake up stupidee.

“A reason Freddie, a reason,” Mr. Gateman said. “I’m going to give you a reason to trust me.”

“If yuh give me money, duh would be helpful,” I muttered. Is true. My lunch that day was egg and rice. I didn’t even have money for greens. If wasn’t for dem couple chicken ah does mind in my back yard, lunch woulda been rice alone.

“Listen carefully. Remember the old house your family use to rent? Before your mother called police and got your father evicted? There’s a mango tree in the yard. Years ago, your father buried something under that tree, in a groove by the roots. Something he stole and hide. Because he feared the people it belonged to would find it, more than he feared for the lives of his family. Consider that my gift.”

I laughed. Laughed all the way home. I couldn’t help it! My friend, is de second time since talking to Mr. Gateman, that I had to remind myself where I work.

And yet, curiosity nibble at the corners of my brain for de next few days. When Saturday came, I had to find out. I tek a bus and go down to Ameila’s Ward.

Now, my memory has never been d sharpest. I wander d road for like two hours, in de hot hot sun. By de time I find we old house, my shirt covered in sweat and sticking to my back and my tummy.

The house looked run down. De fence was full of holes. Weeds were choking the yard. But there were blinds in the window. People lived here.

I found so many memories! The chicken coop my mother used to mind chickens in, was now rotten and in pieces among d weeds. Forgotten fragments of a yellow cleaning bucket I had broken as a child lay in a corner in the back, among some other old rubbish.

My panicking mother had hidden it there, before my father came home.

I even found a rusted old iron pipe, sticking out of the earth. I remember I use fuh swing it about in d yard and practice what I saw dem movie stars doing on TV. I don’t know who I was practicing for. For myself?

And de tree. De mango tree. It was still bearing and I picked one. A nice, rosy looking one. Sweet! Ah didn’t care how much juice dribble down my chin and on to my clothes.

I de so focused on eating mango, I forget what I came for. Is till when de mango done, then I remember. I went and fetch my old martial arts practice pipe and start digging at de mango tree groove.

It didn’t take long to find it. Muh pipe start scrape iron and when I bend down and reach in the hole, out comes a small box! Rusted and muddy, with a padlock on it. I put it down and two swings with my pipe ripped the padlock off. I opened the lid.

Raw gold! If you see raw gold! I nearly faint. All of a sudden, de place get more hot and sweat start stream down my neck and my back again. I closed the box and hurry out de yard, glancing around all de time.

Is not till I reach home, that I realize. This damn man had all this wealth buried in he old yard. And watched me struggle! For over a year, he watch me struggle and go hungry to care for he and pay he hospital expenses? I knew d bastard hated me but suh much!

Well he had Alzheimer's, you would say. It didn’t matter! I care fuh my mother when she d sick. I care for he when he d sick. With no help from him in either case. I was mad. I trashed my house. Chased away my chickens.

And then I cried myself tuh sleep.

De next day I wanted to meet my father. I didn’t know or care how Mr. Gateman would do it. I still didn’t trust him. But I was past caring. I wanted to meet he so I could tell he what a POS he was.

“Even if ah wanted to, ah can’t release you,” I told Mr. Gateman that night. “De shift supervisor is de only one with keys. And he always supervises if ah gotta clean inside.”

He was silent for so long, I get frighten he change he mind.

“There’s another way,” Mr. Gateman finally said. “But it won’t be pretty. People might get hurt.”

I balked at this. “I doan want anyone getting hurt.”

Mr. Gateman was silent again. He finally spoke. “What I’m about to ask you to do, must be done between the hours of three and four this morning. Hopefully, there aren’t many guards out.”

Well, growing up I know dem hours as de hours jumbie does walk de most. I swallowed.

“Wuh you want me fuh do exactly?”

“First, I want you to bring me a knife.”

I stared at the little barred window in the door. “You gah be joking.”

“I’m not!” Gateman snapped, his friendly voice gone. “And I’m not going to try to pick the lock with it… or hurt you.”

I said nothing.

“You want to see your father, don’t you? All those years he kept that gold from you? All those years he made your childhood a living hell? You want to see him!”

Right away I clench my fists. “Yes!”

“Then bring me a knife! A sharp one too.”

Getting the knife was easy. The kitchen was empty. And while they kept an inventory of all the items, no one would notice a missing knife until morning. I’d have it back by then… depending on what plans Mr. Gateman had for it.

“What you still doing here Freddie?” A voice boomed behind me.

I spun my head and open my eyes like if I hear Jesus call my name. But it was only Dr. Anderson, he hands behind he back and he lab coat swaying, in the kitchen door.

Well, I choked. I didn’t know what else to do. Here I was, in de kitchen past time for my shift, with a knife hidden behind my hand.

I’ll never forget the way his sharp eyes darted to my hand and he frowned.

“What’s that you’ve got there?”

He start coming towards me and everything turned into a struggle. My breathing. My sweating. Even my trembling. It would be over for me when he found that knife.

At least I had the gold. That would set me up nice.

But after I get fired, how would I help Mr. Gateman escape?

How would I get to see my father?

He’s been stress eating, sneaking food out of the fridge when the kitchen staff are asleep. Ask him.

When I hear Mr. Gateman voice in my head, I coulda drop dead. I settled for bracing against the counter top. Dr. Anderson stopped and quirked his eyebrow. Probably wondering if I should be a patient too.

Ask him!

“Wuh you doing down here, Dr. Anderson? I gatto clean. But wuh you doing down here so late?”

All de time I talking, me legs like dem get a mind of they own and start trembling.

But to my surprise, Dr. Anderson stopped dead in he tracks and watch me. Then he straightened he tie and turn around. “Get on with your cleaning then Freddie.”

I trembled my way back to Mr. Gateman’s ward, where he grabbed the knife as soon as I pushed it through the barred window.

“How de hell I just hear you in my head?” I hissed.

“All will be clear to you once I’m out,” Mr. Gateman’s voice came from the other side of the door.

“Wuh you doing with duh knife?” I asked.

He didn’t answer, but I could hear movement on de other side of de door. That's when I start wondering if is kill he going and kill heself. If he did, then I would be in the sauce. I was just about to peep through the window when his hand came reaching through de bars.

Mr. Gateman dropped the knife, wrapped with two of his whitest blood smeared locks, in my hand.

I dropped it and backed away.

“Fool!” Mr. Gateman snapped, his face at the bars. “Handle my hair with care!”

Reluctantly, I picked it up. “Wuh I supposed to do with this?”

“You will go to the blue lake where they found me,” he said. “You will throw the hair, wrapped around the knife, in the lake. And you will tell whatever comes out of the lake, where I am.”

De blood drained from my face.

“Wuh gon come out of the lake, Mr. Gateman?”

He didn’t answer.

“Wuh gon come out of the lake?”

“Whatever comes out of the lake, will not harm you,” Mr. Gateman finally said. “You have my word. That hair and blood is your safe conduct. But you must go between three and four this morning.”

He gave me directions to de blue lake, all the while trying to reassure me that nothing would harm me. I was not reassured. But I remembered why I was doing this in de first place and that gave me strength.

When work was over, I wait until after midnight to call for a Wisroc taxi. Ah know how these taxis stay.

Soon, I was walking along a trail. A check of my watch showed me that it was two thirty. White sand and hills surrounded the trail. But under the night sky, the white sand look like it was glowing with a blueish hue.

In that moment it struck me how… small, how vulnerable I was. How little I mattered, to the universe and the stars looking down. Walking out by myself, through an abandoned bauxite mine. To god knows what fate.

As I got closer to the lake, I saw something to my right move. Something white, whiter than the blueish sand that surrounded me.

My heart jumped in my throat and it was all I could do to stop from screaming and running. But ah hurry. Yes, ah keep my head straight and ah hurry.

By three fifteen, I was right next to de lake. I threw my head back, feeling the cool breeze caressing my face. Cooling my sweat from the little race walk I just did.

I watched the long stretch of blue lake and the shadowy outline of trees. The glowing blueish white sand on the other side.

And while I watched the gently lapping water, I could feel something watching meh. All my pores and hair raise up and it took all my willpower not to run. Or turn around. Before I could find what I was looking for.

Mr. Gateman had promised me I would be safe. Did I trust him? No. But something I couldn't see was at play here. And I was curious.

Shuddering, I draw back my hand and pelt the hair and knife out into de lake.

For several minutes nothing happened. I crossed my arms for warmth and waited.

Still nothing.

Fear rooted me to that spot. And yet, fear stopped me from going back up the trail. Soon, I would have to pick the lesser fear.

I sat down in the sand, out of reach of the waves gently washing the shoreline.

And I jump up right away.

Something was moving. Under water.

Coming straight towards me.

Something white.

I screamed as de thing head break the surface. And turned to run. But the heavy sand hook my foot and I fell down. Jerk up muh neck.

When I raised myself up on my elbow, my eyes bulged at what I saw.

It was a huge, white tiger. No, not a tiger, I realized as more of its body emerged from the water. A jaguar. I could tell from the faint outline of its spots.

Its face was white. Everything was white. Its claws, white.

Its eyes, if you could call dem that. Because all I could see were de outlines of eyes. They were white too. Not even pupils.

It turned its face towards me.

I screamed again and tried to get up.

That’s when I realized my ankle was rooted in the sand.

I trashed about, trying to free myself as it got closer.

Be still, human. I have no cause to harm you… if you reveal why you carry the blood and hair of Sego McKenzie.

“Seg… Seg… Sego?”

The Jaguar turned away, its tail swishing, and paced around me.

Ah… you call him Mr. Gateman. Comical… but not inaccurate.

The thing stopped mid stride, its paw still raised. Its tail stopped twitching. The air suddenly felt charged with something malevolent. Evil. Angry.

They have imprisoned one of the ten guardians? Fools! Do they know what they have done!

When it swung back to me, it was no longer pure white. Its blank eyeballs were filling with blood, like ink being injected into water. It lifted a huge paw and flared its claws. I could see its white fangs, ready to tear into my flesh. Even the inside of its mouth, its tongue, were white.

You are one of them! You carry their stench! You will die for this, human!

I ain’t gon lie, I wet my pants. I covered my head and bawl like a baby.

“He promise! He promise! He promise! He pro-”

Quiet!

I abruptly shut my mouth, blowing a snot bubble.

Why does he want you spared?

I sniffled.

He did promise you safe passage. I will honor that.

The deep voice in my head sounded disappointed. I wasn’t taking chances though. I kept my trembling arms over my head.

Get up, human. Your night is just getting started.

The walk back to the mental hospital was torture on muh lungs. My feet felt like they were on fire. I was heaving for breaths. In that moment, I felt in my bones how out of shape I was. At a subconscious level, I prayed for someone to put me out of my misery.

But at the same time I felt… safer? With the white Jaguar leading the way, as if it was it, not I, that worked at the hospital. For sure, it took a path through the trees that I had never seen before.

We finally came to de edge of de forest and sure enough, the back of the hospital was there.

The Jaguar glanced back at me once, its gleaming white fangs reflecting the moonlight.

I hope you will not mourn for these humans too long.

I collapsed against a tree, my chest heaving. “Don’t… kill…”

For Sego’s sake, I promised not to kill you. Any other human that gets in my way will receive no mercy from me.

Before I could say anything else, it leaped out of the trees and streaked across the grounds. A guard saw it coming and jumped up, scrambling for his gun. It happened so fast, I couldn’t look away. De thing barreled straight into de guard and pitch he through de window! Then the Jaguar jumped through de window after he. The sound of glass shattering crossed the distance a millisecond later.

I waited with my back against de tree. A heard sporadic gunfire and saw flashes of light through the windows. Meanwhile, the blackness of the sky start to lighten, turning purple.

I don’t know how long I sat there, but the Jaguar finally came strolling through the door. Its pure white fur was now smeared with blood around de mouth and paws.

Following after it was Mr. Gateman. He had on he same inmate clothes. And he still stooped.

When they reached where I was, Mr. Gateman looked at me.

“Thank you,” he said.

“Who are you?” I asked. “What are you?”

De Jaguar glanced at Mr. Gateman. They exchanged a look. Then he laughed.

“Korinah believes I shouldn’t tell you anything. That I should keep everything you don’t know about the spiritual realm, hidden from you.”

“And wuh you believe?”

Mr. Gateman looked at me. “I believe you should use the trip to your father, to get in as much questions as you can.”

And that was how I found out that there was life after death. For some, at least. Those dead who still had unfinished business with the living. Those dead who could not rest in peace, no matter how many times you typed that under their pictures. These souls lingered in the region where they spent the most time. In a land named Coalinoir. Separated from the living by an unseen barrier between our world and theirs.

But there were gateways to the spiritual world. Every region had one. And every gateway had a guardian, bound to protect their gate. To stop spirits from escaping and upturning the land of the living.

“In Region Four, the gateway is by the chimney,” Mr. Gateman said. “In Region Three, its one of the forts.”

“And here?” I asked him.

“You’ll see,” he said.

“But how did you become the guardian?”

The deeper we went into the forest, the more anxious Mr. Gateman seemed. Korinah, its muscles rippling under its white fur as it walked ahead of us, also seemed tense.

He told me about recurring dreams he had. Dreams of a white monkey with pale eyes, leading him through the forests until he arrived at a place. With each dream, the monkey’s insistence on leading him to the place became more urgent.

“You see, the previous guardian had died. Died in 1838. I only learned that afterwards, when I met his spirit. The longer a gate remains unguarded, the more bad spirits come through. So the monkey had to get me to come exploring and he had to get me fast. When I found the place, all was revealed to me.”

“You said 1838?” I frowned at that.

Mr. Gateman nodded, looking up in the trees. He raised his hand to signal them to stop. “I was born in 1807. A long lifespan of service is one of the side effects of this job.”

I heard branches breaking and when I look up, I saw something big falling through through de tree. Straight at us. Well, I didn’t wait. I run and hide behind a tree. When this thing fall, is like de whole ground shake. And like de shaking transfer to me too, cause I was shaking like a leaf when I peep.

The first thing I noticed was the brown school pants. But these pants had to be big as hell, cause they were on a huge, hairy monkey waist and had to fit broad, hairy monkey legs. Its hairy monkey arms dragged on the ground, as it slowly got up and dusted itself off. It was huge, mussy eight or nine feet tall, with arms so long I felt it could swing them like a helicopter. But something was wrong with it. I could feel it in my bones and all the hairs were alive and upright on my arms. Its head was bent and I couldn’t see its face.

Then it looked around at Mr. Gateman and Korinah and I gasped. It’s head was that of a chubby faced baby. Curly hair stuck to its forehead and sparse little teeth showing as it exposed its pink gums in a smile.

Korinah charged at it when it was facing Gateman, but its head snapped around. I saw one long arm arc through the dawn air, landing with a deafening thud that threw up dirt where Korinah was only moments ago. Korinah darted around a tree and disappeared out of sight. The baby faced spirit lumbered after Korinah. It peeped around the tree, looking for the Jaguar.

All this time, Mr. Gateman had been standing there, motionless and calm. But he suddenly sprang into action. His sweaty face contorted with concentration as he made a series of abrupt hand gestures. The tree the spirit was peeping around came to life, twisting its branches like rope. It wrapped around the neck, shoulders and one arm of the baby faced spirit. Leaving it contorted and awkwardly bound to the tree, while still standing on its monkey legs.

Ears laid back, Korinah slowly stalked out of the shadows. The jaguar looked up at the baby faced behemoth and growled. But Mr. Gateman laid his hand on Korinah’s head and it calmed down.

Despite the baby face spirit’s best efforts to pull itself free, it just did not have enough room to maneuver. After several tries it sagged against the tree, its knees buckling. Only the branches seemed to hold it up.

Baby face began to blubber and cry, exactly like a baby would.

Mr. Gateman looked up at it, pity in his eyes. “Michael Pike. You are merchant pledged. There’s nothing I can do for you.”

I stepped forward, wondering what the hell was going on. “Wuh duh mean? Merchant pledged?”

He turned to me. “It means Michael pledged himself to a body merchant.”

Well, that didn’t clear up things even slightly. When I still looked confused, he explained.

“Just like Korinah is a blue lake spirit able to mold a body of his choosing, to physically return to the land of the living,” Mr. Gateman said. “There are spirits behind the barrier who have been there so long, they have grown powerful enough to mold body vessels for other spirits desperate to flee the gate. We call these spirits body merchants.”

“Whenever the gate is weak, they offer the deal of a lifetime to the dead,” Mr. Gateman’s voice turned bitter. “Pledge your soul to them and they will mold a body for you. A body with which you can rejoin the physical world and settle your unfinished business. Only catch is that if the body is destroyed, they absorb your soul. But they always trick them. They always make the bodies so misshapen, so monstrous, that they can never reenter society. Their humanity is forever lost. So they remain at the outskirts of society. Growing more envious, bitter and dangerous. Until society or a gatekeeper, whoever gets there first, finally puts them out of their misery. A self fulfilling prophesy.”

The silence was broken only by the crying spirit once known as Michael Pike, in his manufactured body.

“So what now?” I asked.

Mr. Gateman said nothing. Instead he turned to Michael, laid his hand on the spirit’s hairy forearm and closed his eyes.

I watched the baby face switch from crying to rage, twisting as it glared down at Mr. Gateman. It opened its mouth. Lemme tell you. I watched all this and still I wasn’t prepared for when this thing roar. It was like something from another world. I don’t know any other creature that could sound like duh. And the weird thing is, I could feel the spirit’s frustration and rage. De tree branches stopped it from lashing out physically, so it lashed out emotionally.

I covered my ears and doubled over. But Mr. Gateman, who got the worst of the noise, seemed like he went in a trance. The only evidence that he was still in the moment, were the tears trickling down his face.

The baby faced spirit start glowing from within. And then, as soon as Mr. Gateman stepped away, it burst into blue flames.

The heat was so bad I had to step away too. A smell of burning flesh was heavy on the air. The flame burned through the tree and the branches quick, freeing Michael Pike. But all he do with he brief freedom is take couple steps towards Mr. Gateman and tumble over. Behind the body, the tree toppled as if in slow motion.

We stood there, watching as the two fires finally petered out. Mr. Gateman stood over Baby face’s second corpse and kicked at the ashes until he scattered them far enough.

“Well,” he said, wiping his eyes on his sleeve before turning to me. “Shall we continue?”

Mr. Gateman led the way until we exited the forests. Sand hills, some taller than others, surrounded us on all sides. But Mr. Gateman seemed to be looking for a special hill, so I let him look. He bent down at the foot of one hill and examined something. Then he straightened up and half turned.

“Hope you’re not afraid of heights, Freddie.”

With duh, he start climb like salvation itself was at the hill top. Karinah leaped after him. And me, well I brought up the rear. As I passed the spot he had been examining, I looked down.

It was half of a monkey skull.

As I continued climbing, I passed many fragments of monkey bones sprinkled all over the hill. I also passed as many jaguar paw prints as bones. The prints varied in size. Some were juveniles. But some were huge, though not as big as Karinah's.

When I finally reached the top, Mr. Gateman and Karinah were waiting for me.

“Are you ready for this?” Mr. Gateman asked me, as soon as I caught my breath.

Looking out over the hill, my eyes settled on the blue lake stretching into the distance. The water looked so peaceful, bathed in morning light that grew stronger.

I nodded.

“Some rules,” Mr. Gateman said, grasping my shoulders in his hands. Memories of the baby faced spirit bursting into flames.

“You must never leave my side. Never! Body merchants are very skilled shapeshifters. They won’t hesitate to deceive you and lead you astray. There are also spiteful, very spiteful spirits to look out for. They would attack you if they get the chance and seek to restrain you. And you don’t want that. If your spirit separates from your body for too long, your physical form will wither and die.”

I squinted. “Wait… what? What do you mean separate?”

“Just what I said,” Mr. Gateman released me. “Karinah will remain behind to guard your body.”

“I don’t know,” I looked down at the Jaguar, who was sitting on his haunches looking bored. “I didn’t know I would have to leff my body. You never tell me duh.”

Mr. Gateman frowned. “You can’t make an omelet without cracking some eggs. Now make up your mind. Are you in or out?”

I wanted to pull out. This was crazy! I was dabbling in spirituality and powers I had no concept of!

He seemed to read my mind. His eyes hardened. “Are you going to be a coward all your life Freddie? When are you going to plant your feet and say, no more?”

Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and nodded my assent. When I opened them, Mr. Gateman had already turned away. Facing to the east, Mr. Gateman did something I had seen done many times at the asylum.

He raised one hand, as if to wave, and with the other he pulled as if he was pulling a gate.

The dawn light shifted to a deep red and purple sky filled with stars. I could see no sun or moon, but with so many stars they weren’t necessary. I drowned in the beauty of the sky for so long, I almost jump out my clothes when someone touch me.

It was only Mr. Gateman.

“We’re here,” he said. He stood ramrod straight and his hair was no longer white. Instead it had become black, making him look more young than ever. “We’re behind the barrier. Welcome to Coalinoir.”

We were no longer on the hill. Instead, dark sand and low hills surrounded us. As far as I could see, what looked like shops dotted the landscape. Despite how bright the sky was, an impenetrable darkness shrouded everything below it. Karinah was gone. Blue lake was gone. It looked like Linden was gone.

“Remember, stay close to me.”

As we walked, I looked around. I could now see that there were people walking about. They looked like ordinary people when silhouetted. But when I got closer, they either looked depressed or manic. They all looked like they belonged in the asylum.

“Sego!” A voice said behind us. “Yuh alive boy.”

When we turned, it was to see a tall, rotund man with a bald head and gray eyes. His lips, stretched in a smile that did not reach his cold eyes, were so black I thought he was wearing make up.

“And yuh bring a live one today,” the man continued, his gray eyes flickering to me. “Who he lost in here? A wife? A mother?”

His grin widened. “A father?”

Mr. Gateman stared coldly at the man. “He is under my protection, so that means you will stay out of this matter Agard. And yes, I’m alive and back in charge at the gate. I will hunt down every single one of those poor souls you and your kind sent through in my absence.”

Agard smiled and raised a bloodstained gold wrist watch with a broken screen.

“You better get on with that then,” he said, tapping the screen. With another smile and a glance at me that sent chills through my body- well, spirit- he turned and strolled away.

As we continued walking, Mr. Gateman looked troubled.

“Is he one of d body merchants you warn me about?” I finally asked.

Mr. Gateman nodded. “One of the oldest ones. He’s also one of the few body merchants who’ve actually made bodies for themselves to return to the land of the living, whenever I’ve left the gate unguarded. Though he never stays long. By the time he learned the skill of body molding, everyone he ever had unfinished business with was long dead.”

“You left the gate unguarded before?” I stared at him. “Why?”

He didn’t answer.

We finally walked far enough to leave the shops behind. A setta dark, scary looking trees stood nearby, Mr. Gateman stopped and sat on the ground, his legs crossed.

“What’s your father’s full name? And did he have a nickname?” he looked up at me. “Anything his friends use to call him by?”

“Nathaniel Arthur. But all he friends in the bush use to call he rush,” I said. “I always wonder why.”

Mr. Gateman closed his eyes. “Remember, do not leave my side.”

I looked around. A group of what I assumed were spirits stood some distance away. They were talking and appeared to be watching us.

“Bro, you ain’t gah tell me twice.”

Mr. Gateman half smiled and we settled into a waiting game.

I had no concept of time. When I checked my watch, I saw that it had stopped working. With a sigh, I raised my head.

And saw someone emerging from the forest. A spirit that was hurrying towards us.

“Mr. Gateman,” I grasped his shoulder and shook him. But he seemed to be in a trance. “Mr. Gateman! Sego!”

No movement from Mr. Gateman. And meanwhile, the spirit continued to barrel straight towards us. My entire being screamed at me to run, that the longer I delayed the less chance I had to escape.

I had the mother of all decisions to make. Should I stay? Or should I go?

I turned to run.

And then I stopped and glanced down at Mr. Gateman. I remembered how he had grieved the baby faced spirit. How much care he had taken of me. And I remembered his admonition that I stop being a coward.

Stay or go?

I did better. I stepped in front of Mr. Gateman, to face the oncoming threat with my fists raised.

As the spirit got closer, I recognized more and more of its features. And as I did, my fists dropped lower.

“What’s going on?” Mr. Gateman said behind me, getting to his feet.

I turned around. He really missed everything that just happened?

“My dad.”

Together, we watched as Nathaniel got close enough for me to make out his features. Gone were the wrinkles, the droopy eyes, that I last remembered. This was a father before my time. This was a young father. In death, the clock reversed on his old age.

Or maybe it was Coalinoir, since Mr. Gateman also seemed younger? I looked down my body and my eyes widened. My undisciplined belly was gone. Instead I had the flat tummy of my teenage years. And if I had a mirror, I had no doubt my face looked younger.

I had no time to savor this moment of vanity. My father was here.

“Freddie.” He said, stopping several feet from me.

I looked at Mr. Gateman for confirmation. When he nodded, I stepped forward. “Dad.”

“I’m glad you’re here son,” he said, raising his hand and then dropping it.

“Where was this gladness when you d alive?” I snapped. “That was when I d need it.”

He flinched, as if I had slapped him. Mr. Gateman faded into the background.

“I dead and yuh still holding this grudge?”

“Yes! You think when yuh dead, all the damage you left behind does magically fix? You abused mom! In front of me!”

“No!” My father raised his finger. “No no. I never abuse she. Never! I never hit she. Is that what you believed all these years? That I was abusive? Your mother just wanted any excuse to get me out the house, so she lied.”

I threw up my hands. “No you didn’t hit she, but that don’t mean you’ze not an abuser! I remember being so afraid. Mom was so afraid. Everything had to be perfect before you come home. You telling me that wasn’t abusive?”

He shook his head, as if he could drown out my words. “I didn’t hit her.”

I closed my eyes, willing myself to stand strong. “Why are you still here? Why you ain’t move on?”

Dad shrugged his shoulders. “I wanted to see you one last time.”

“He wants your forgiveness,” Mr. Gateman said quietly. “Before he moves on.”

“Forget it,” I snapped. “He not getting nothing. He could rot here for all I care.”

Nathaniel frowned in indignation at my outburst. I remembered as a child, I could not raise my voice. I would get the same frown. I squared my shoulders, as I stared at him.

“Then forgive yourself,” Mr. Gateman said. “All you endured as a child. All you still endure as an adult. None of it is your fault. So forgive yourself and move on.”

Mr. Gateman and I exchanged a look. I nodded, before I turned back to my father.

“I just have two questions for you. Did you know about the gold?”

He smiled. In death, he still had his gold tooth at the side. “So, you found it? Good. When I came to you, I had Alzheimer's remember? Is only when I came here, I remembered.”

I watched him, wondering if he would have tell me about it if he de remember. Then I sighed. What would it matter? The gold would be my reparations.

“What’s your second question boy?”

“Why them use to call you rush?”

I swear, my dad raised his chin and puffed out his chest. “Cause I use to get de rush from d girls every time I went bush.”

With a final look of disgust at him, I turned away. “We’re done here.”

As we walked away, he called after me. “Is only one father you could get boy!”

I walked faster.

The purple and red starry sky abruptly gave way to sunshine and bright blue. Birdsong filled my ears. Coalinoir had been so quiet! As if I was underwater. Not even a whisper or a breeze blowing.

I sank to my knees and watched my fingers sink into the white sand. Tears sprang to my eyes. I didn't know if it was relief at being back in the land of the living or if something unlocked when I met my father.

“Freddie!” Mr. Gateman’s voice trickled through. “You’re not back yet.”

I looked up at him in confusion. He was pointing at something. But before I could see what it was, I felt something tug my hand. I looked down.

The sand was up to my wrist now. I was sinking lower and lower. I screamed and tried to pull myself out. But it kept pulling me down.

Muttering to himself, Mr. Gateman came and yanked me out by the elbow.

“Its my fault,” he said, gesturing forward. “This way.”

Still plenty confused, I followed him in a daze. But when I finally came to where he was showing me, I understood.

I was lying there in the sand, my body twisted, my default belly showing through a button I had skipped in my shirt. I looked disheveled. And badly in need of a shave. Korinah was still sitting by my side. Watching me as if he knew what I had endured in the spiritual world.

“That’s how I look?”

“That’s how you look,” Mr. Gateman said impatiently behind me. “Forgive me.”

“Forgive? What-”

I felt Mr. Gateman shove me hard in the middle of my back. My world turned 360 degrees over so fast I thought I would be sick. All I saw was white and blue and my own disheveled body, spinning closer until it was all a blur.

And then I was staring at brown boots and huge white paws. And a bleached white fragment of monkey bone.

I turned my face and vomited in the sand.

When I wiped my mouth and could finally get up, Mr. Gateman was watching me with an amused look on his face. Then he exchanged a look with the spirit jaguar.

“Korinah is ready to take his leave,” he said.

I nodded and the jaguar turned to me.

You’re not bad for a human. A little slow, yes. But there is good in your heart.

Before I could say anything, Korinah turned and bounded down the hill and out of sight.

“Hey! He called me slow!” I gasped, as we began our journey down the hill. Mr. Gateman chuckled.

We walked in silence for a while. “So… what’s next for you?”

“Me?” Mr. Gateman smiled, but it was a grim one. Tired. Which suited his hair, now returned to its previous white color. “I have a duty to hunt down the malevolent souls who breached the gate while you and your colleagues locked me away.”

I detected a hint of blame in his voice and remained quiet.

“Afterwards? I must start looking for a successor. I’m tired, Freddie. People think immortality is a gift? Well, first the mind goes. Then the body follows,” he sighed. “I need rest. Least I end up in your care again.”

“Not my care,” I said, my mind decided. “With the money from the gold, its time for a change. Maybe I’ll go into business? Who knows.”

“Good idea. Only… don’t resign too fast. You’ll make police suspicious.”

We reached the edge of the forest, only a few feet from the main road. Every once in a while, a car passed. Traffic would pick up later. The morning was still young.

“How many people did Korinah kill at the asylum?”

To my surprise Mr. Gateman threw back his head and laughed.

“Kill?” Mr. Gateman shook his head. “I gave Korinah strict instructions not to kill anyone. You’ll find nothing worse than broken bones, a few bites and some very confused minds when you get back.”

Still chuckling to himself, Mr. Gateman faded into the trees.