The Gatekeeper's Son (21 page)

I looked down at the grass, at the gun lying there—blue steel shining amid a field of glowing dewdrops. I picked it up. “Can you die? Could this gun kill you?”

She looked at it. “I am flesh and blood, the same as you. Cut me and I will bleed—but I assure you, I will not die alone.”

I bowed my head. I wanted to fall over and cry. Let them come and find me—the police, Grandpa’s men, I didn’t care who.

“The bloodshed and this talk have made me sad,” Shoko said as if speaking to herself. “I want to go home for a while. I need some peace.”

“Go,” I whispered. “Just leave me here.”

Silence descended as I slipped further away, my heart dropping further and further.

“Would you like to come with me?” she said.

CHAPTER

19

I stared at her, speechless, as thoughts and emotions stampeded though my head. She watched me struggle with something like sad amusement on her face.

“You mean travel … across?”

Her dark eyes reflected the city lights. “It is against the rules, but this whole assignment is bewildering.” She knelt on the grass and looked at me. “Do you want to come?”

“But how—”

“It is either yes or no.”

I took a deep breath. “Yes,” I whispered, “but would you really kill me?”

“That is up to you.” Then she broke into laughter. “But I am an excellent teacher, so I
probably
will not need to.”

I frowned. “I don’t think that’s funny.”

“I am sorry,” she said. Giggling, she added, “Do not fear me.”

“I’m not scared.”

She was still smiling as she reached out and took my hand. Immediately, the warmth of her hand radiated a peaceful energy into me. I took a deep breath and felt my anxiety lessen.

“We will go straight across, to the exact same place on the Other Side. This is the way I started.” She made a face. “But that got me into some awkward situations, let me tell you.” She let go of my hand and knelt. “I should do this the proper way.” She bowed low and touched her head to the earth, the same way Okaasan and I bowed in the dojo. She was silent for a moment before sitting upright. “One must thank the gods and the Mother Earth. Without them, this is not possible.”

“But if you can’t see where you’re going, how do you know it’s safe there?”

“Anywhere there is safe.” She took my hand and slapped her right hand on the grass.

The dizziness came, along with swirling lights. I closed my eyes and we tumbled through the darkness, for far longer than we had before, but Shoko’s hand clasped tight with mine eased my fear.

I felt a cool breeze against my face and sensed movement around me. Scurrying sounds, leaves rustling, the creak of tree branches—nighttime sounds. And my head didn’t hurt.

I opened my eyes.

We knelt on soft ground covered in needles, still holding hands, bathed in the light of the moon. Huge green ferns and cones as big as footballs lay scattered on the ground. Trees towered above us, hundreds of feet tall, some at least twenty feet across, larger than any redwood I’d ever seen.

Shoko inhaled deeply. “This is what air should be like.”

I took a deep breath too, filling my lungs. My head cleared and my exhaustion lifted.

It was a while before I realized we were still on top of the hill where the Crescent was. Man had changed the landscape somewhat, but it was obvious that this was the same place. Through the trees, moonlight shimmered on water. The outline of the distant hills, Alcatraz Island, Angel Island, even the shape of the bay were the same, but the familiar bridges and buildings were gone. This was San Francisco Bay, the way the Spanish explorers must have seen it when they arrived in 1769.

“Did we go back in time?”

She shook her head. “This is a parallel world that follows a different destiny, free from man’s relentless conquest and suffering. Our population hasn’t changed in a thousand years. Each generation leaves the world
as is
for the next. No tree is cut without asking the Mother for permission, no animal taken without need.”

Shoko smiled at me. In that moment, I knew I was looking at an angel.

“I told you Junya, I am no angel.”

“Hey! I thought you couldn’t hear my thoughts!”

She grinned. “In your world, I cannot. Also, from here I can see where I want to travel in your world—and I can hear you call me.”

I looked at her. Angel or not, she was something special, and despite her warning, I couldn’t help thinking how much I’d like to kiss her.

She gave me a sad smile. “I have that desire, too, at times. But nothing must distract me from my duties.”

I nodded, both happy and disappointed simultaneously.

She pointed to the gun, still dangling in my right hand. “I do not like that thing. Dig a hole and bury it deep.”

I grabbed a broken branch and dug into the soft earth. At two feet, I dropped it into the hole. After replacing the soil, I scattered a layer of needles over it.

She nodded in approval. “I am hungry,” she said as she started down the hill.

A man was waiting when we came out of the trees. He wore a knee-length skirt and an elaborate headpiece, both made of supple bark. His chest was bare, revealing a powerful body. He bowed in greeting. Then he looked at me.

“He is one of us?” the man asked.

“A guest,” Shoko said. Even in her school uniform, she looked confident and strong, easily this man’s equal. I doubted I looked the same.

The man squatted. “You are from Izumo?”

Shoko nodded.

“We see warriors only in times of trouble, which is rare.” He assessed her. “Others will come because of him.”

“No one will come.” Shoko’s tone had a note of finality.

He nodded, but not in agreement. “I sensed your arrival, and your needs.” He indicated a basket. “There is food and a blanket.”

“Thank you for your kindness.” Shoko bowed. “I would prefer this event to remain between us.”

“They will come.”

I glanced over my shoulder, suddenly nervous. “Who will come?” I started to reach out with my energy.

The shaman looked surprised. Shoko looked angry. “Close off your mind, now!” She grabbed the basket with one hand and my arm with the other. “Let’s go,” she whispered.

The man was barely out of view when I jerked to a stop. “Something’s coming.” I couldn’t define the energy as good or bad.

Her head snapped up and she listened, and then her eyes widened. She dropped to the ground and put her hands in a prayer position. Energy began to radiate from her so intensely that I had to grab my head. Then, slowly, as if she’d pulled a curtain around us, all sounds vanished—the waves, the night sounds, even the wind. I didn’t move. I tried not to even think. Finally, after several minutes, Shoko turned to me. “You sensed them before I did.”

“What was coming?”

She was quiet for a moment. “Before I tell you, I need to explain some things. But before that, let’s eat!”

There were several bowls filled with nuts and berries, mussel shells and smoked fish. As we ate, the evening became cooler and Shoko moved closer to me. When I pulled the blanket around us, she smiled.

“This is nice.”

I nodded, although I imagined she thought it was nice only because it was warmer. For me, the blanket made my body as warm as my heart had become.

“This really feels like God’s world,” I mused. “I feel so relaxed, like nothing bad happened tonight.”

“It is difficult to feel negative here,” Shoko said. “And it is not God. There are thousands of gods here, both small and powerful, gods of the shrines of Japan and gods from around the world, gods of the desert, of the mountains, streams, and lakes. Worship is what gives them strength, but as the years pass, there are fewer believers. New religions or disbelief have replaced the ancient ways, and the gods grow lonesome.”

I turned to look at her. “Why do these gods need someone like … you?” I couldn’t find a delicate way to say it. “You’re a killing machine.”

Shoko snorted contemptuously. “Show me one great civilization that survived because of their kindness. O̅kuninushi commanded my people to be the guardians of this world, to keep out the evil that had infested your world.”

“But why women?”

“You think us incapable?”

“Of course not.”

“O̅kuninushi considered women to be the daughters of the Sun Goddess. He knew the strength of a woman’s heart and decided we—the life-givers—would also be responsible for taking life.”

“So that makes you …”

“We are the Gatekeepers. O̅kuninushi created gateways between our worlds so the gods could pass back and forth. Most are locked, and some allow passage only temporarily—only Gatekeepers can travel at will as I do. The ancient peoples of your world had their shamans, their witch doctors, medicine men and druids, who knew the location of gateways and had permission to cross. But there are few left since your people began spreading around the world, crushing the old religions and cultures. And there are intruders, those with stolen knowledge, who cross over without permission and with evil intent.”

I thought for a few minutes. “You haven’t told me what was coming. Was it those Gatekeepers?”

“Yes.” She took a deep breath. “There is a break in the energy field of the Mother Earth each time someone crosses.”

“That wave that knocked me over?”

She nodded. “When that break is detected, whoever has crossed over is intercepted. Depending on their intentions, they are accepted, returned … or killed.”

I chill ran up my spine. “But my grandpa wasn’t killed.”

“When Tomi and the other Gatekeepers arrived, Edward was on the floor of a hut, the home of an old Indian—a shaman from your side. The old Indian spoke of destiny and showed Tomi Edward’s map. And thus,” she said, opening her arms, “the continuation of that fateful moment.”

A lump came to my throat as I stared at the ring on her finger. “Is my mother a Gatekeeper, too?”

Shoko was looking toward the water and didn’t reply. She had a screen around herself, guarding her thoughts.

“Come on, Shoko, tell me. You can’t go this far and then clam up.”

I felt sadness seep out of her, but she managed a smile.

“
Clam up
, I like that.” She let a few more seconds tick by. “She
was
one of us. And that, in part, could explain some of what you can do.” She shrugged. “But I, too, am in the dark about many things.”