‘You go first.’ She insisted.
‘No, I must insist, lady’s first.’
‘So what are you up to then?’
‘Accompany, you to your house.’
‘I meant this evening?’
‘Ok, I might go through maths and biology tonight as it’s my weakest link.’
‘Ok, how good are you at history and geography?’
‘Good.’
‘The history and geography class you’re in are super good. I’ve been told that you’re one of the super brilliant students of those two subjects, right.’ She praised.
‘Well not totally true.’
We walk down the road and made a left turn towards Samantha’s house. Puzzling, she seek for reasoning, ‘What do you mean?’
‘I won’t lie to pretend that I’m a genius, when in fact, I’m just a simple young man trying to be the best I can be.’
‘Tell me something about history then?’
‘Which part? Is it the eighteen or nineteen century?’ I asked.
‘What happen to Hitler before the end of the second world war?’ Samantha demanded for an answer.
‘Adolf Hitler, the ‘fuhrer’ or leader of the Nazi German party. Presume dead on April 1945 two months before the end of the war.’ I said.
‘Wait a minute, I don’t believe in that word presume. I’d rather use suicide.’ She said trying to outsmart me in the field I’m really interested in.
‘Where do you get your source?’
‘From school and… What about you?’
‘Of course, it’s from the primary source. He never shot himself as they have recently found that he manage to escape. He simply got away as the man which the Russian army identified as Hitler was inches shorter than him.’ I said as we walk towards her house.
‘How do the historians knows that when in fact, the primary witness who was part of his personal bodyguard was much alive in the seventies and eighties to tell the tale?’
‘Hitler’s bodyguard story was unreliable. The only witness alive who has been interviewed every decade has changed his story so many times. This had led historians to believe that he wasn’t a credential witness. One time he heard the shot and another time he said he couldn’t hear it.’ I calm down to give her time to assimilate what I was telling her.
Samantha listens attentively and I allow her to absorb what I was giving out. She walks with her head facing downward trying to figure out the jigsaw facts.
I catch my breath and proceeds, ‘Then at a certain point he said he saw the body but the face of the fuhrer was covered with a blanket leaving only his shoes out for him to recognise it as his.’
‘Then who was the dead man who looked exactly like him?’
‘After operation Valkyrie, where by his own high ranking military personnel’s fail attempt to assassinate him, Hitler in fear of his life secretly used body doubles.’
‘It makes perfect sense. He must have used an imposter of his self-image to fake his own death and vanish without a trace.’ She said as she gave out her thoughts. ‘So why couldn’t he be brought to justice?’
‘He couldn’t be found anywhere but speculation and primary evidence from the other source led for a hunt around the globe. The most wanted mass murderer’s hunt was led in Argentina after two German U boats surface over there and this was two months later after the end of the war.’ I said.
‘Very interesting and for me they are brand new facts.’ Samantha said as she looks at me with a hunger for knowledge, to comprehend and make sense of the past.
‘Even the leader of Russia at that time who was Stalin agreed that Hitler escaped. The sound proof bunker was equipped with safety hatch which he could have easily used to fake his own death. He was never found and our government closed the case late in the 50s after we fail to find him. The world had to content with the conclusion that the look-alike body double was him and that he had committed suicide as to find him alive went cold. Case Closed.’
We reaches her home and she stand at the doorway on the steps. Then she said, ‘Thanks for the lecture and I really appreciate it.’
‘No probs.’
She walks to the door then stop, turns around and said, ‘Will I see you tomorrow?’
‘Sure. I’m all yours.’
Samantha smile and I smile back. We stare at each other. I slowly walk up the stairs. She stands still at the front door of her parent’s home. I smoothly sidle near her to make a connection. I hold both of her hands. Chilly feelings of love produce uncontrollable phobia of rejection, if I kiss her what will she think of me and if she doesn’t want me more than a simple friend?
I slowly move my head closer towards hers while I stare into the windows of her soul. Her blue glittering eyes also display a sense of innocence. She neither hesitates nor resists the temptation that she copies the gesture. As we were close enough she closed her eyes and we kiss. We seize time to make passionate and a tendering kiss of love.
Then we slowly come out of the wonderful and amazing position. We both hold each other’s hands and stare into each other’s eyes. Then she breaks the contact by looking at my hands which she felt massaging hers. Her skin was soft. What an amazing young lady she was.
‘Tomorrow we’ll carry on from where we left.’
‘Definitely,’ I respond joyfully.
‘I’m looking forward to see you again tomorrow.’
‘Me, too,’ I reply.
‘Tomorrow we’ll start studying together at my place. I’ll help you with what you’re not good at and you’ll help me with those subjects you’re a winner at, especially at history.’ Samantha excitedly proposed.
I put a finger on her lips and she look at me. Without wasting time I kiss her again. Samantha acknowledges it and we both were in our own world. We neither bothered about those who had gone by nor those who was passing by and seeing us in action.
I broke the act and whisper her name.
‘Yes.’ She responds as she holds my hands and stares at me in the eyes.
‘Put your mobile number in my phone and I’ll ring you tonight.’ I gently let go of her hands and hand over my mobile to her from my trousers’ pocket.
‘Sure, I’ve forgotten about it.’ She said as she grabs it from my hand and immediately key in her number.
Samantha saves the data and hand over my phone. I was not surprise of her being accustom to my phone as I had notice that she and I share the same taste of make. I ring her phone and said, ‘Now you’ve got mine as well.’
She knew what I meant. She smile and take her phone from the back of her tight jeans. The same identical mobile as mine, except that hers was pink and mine was black. I slowly walk backward and said, ‘Tomorrow then.’
‘Sure.’
We stare at each other as I walk backward. She point out to me. The mood of her face changes instantly. As if she wanted to warn me of something as she point her finger behind me. Then she scream out, ‘Watch out Phil!’
It was too late. I turn around only to find myself bumping into a tall and muscular being. The arms were massive and the chest was proper out as well. I trace the muscle up to his neck and the familiar face.
6
The old man in black removes his hat as he pursues his hallucinating vision of the past. Dense growth limits the density of the blazing sun shine. He was no longer hot as before. The undergrowth and the tall trees ventilate warm air as he heads further down the pathway.
They were no longer dense as he walks deeper along the path. There were gaps in between them. Then the tree line came to an end. He moves further down to where the path comes to an end. It all ends to an open ground he had been before. Where the trees no longer grown, except for the grass which covers and stretch over the fertile soil.
He slowly walks out of the pathway and expose himself to the wonderful weather. The sky was literally blue. After all the land has an edge, he warned himself. He could see the edges and decide to stand still halfway through. A chill of fear
knocked down his confidence for headway.
Decades had gone by since when he last saw this place. The man in black slowly went to his knees. He then rests his butt on his calves and heel bones. He slowly lays his frail and old wrinkle hands on his thighs. He set his mind in a meditating state and thoroughly searched for the past. The day when he was in that similar place.
Old memories of when he was riding the bicycle down that same pathway. Riddles of flashbacks appears and gone. He could hear them screaming like hooligans behind him. Then it all comes back to life. The surreal memories feel as if it was real. It felt as if it was fresh from yesterday. He saw them as he turned backwards to see how far the gang of bullies were.
He experienced blackness as his memory flickers and fought to retrieve the old ones. He focused harder and he saw them but this time he was on the ground. I must have missed something important. He fought his old mind for facts.
They are coming… coming for me… I need to get away…
The kid’s faces were filled with anger. They rode at an uncontrollable speed though the path was quite bumpy. The memory faded again. Then it came back to haunt him. He could see a young version of himself crawling backward as they head for him. He got to his feet in no time and waited.
Quickly their leader, who was a tall and muscular teenage boy, trapped in an adult body dart towards him. Then he furiously jumped off his bike. The old man saw his young self, side stepping the bicycle and avoiding the collision. At the corner of his left eye he had seen the young body builder lunging himself with a powerful punch for his face.
There was no time for negotiation he had to act. He carried on into another side step while he seized his enemy’s wrist. Immediately he moved his nemesis in the same momentum. This allowed the body builder to pick up more speed while his wrist got twisted into three hundred and sixty degrees.
The big body builder’s body went off the ground by the momentum of his own body force and applied technique. He found himself moving with the same angle of his diverted wrist. The body builder felt the full impact of the land. His back struck the sun baked grass and the hard surface which lay underneath it.
In pain and shock he laid still while acknowledging the fall with a quick outburst of cry. Unbelievable, he thought. Confused he was. He must have reminded himself how strong he was and yet a boy half his size had managed to overpowered him. Incapacitate with shame and agony glued him to the ground.
One of the big bully’s friends dressed up in a black gothic suit aggressively threw a right hook in his young face. Automatically the old man’s teenage elbow went up at a ninety degree angle with his hands open and living a safety space in between his head. The block fully absorbed the blow. His opponent’s fingers cracked as his punch hit the elbow.
From there he knew that the gothic teenager must have been an inexperience fighter. A good punch does not crack; he still praised himself how he thought and responds that day. He saw himself stepping outside the arc of fire allowing his opponent to move in the same direction he was heading. Immediately his young self, delivered two powerful kicks at the left side of his opponent’s rib cage. He went down on his knees by holding his stomach and puffing for air.
The old memories disappeared and the old man opened his eyes. He rolled up the left side of his suit and search for a particular mark underneath his arm. It was still there and yet he still couldn’t retrieve that part where he got it from. Slightly three centimetres above his wrist an old stitched scar stretched horizontally towards the edge of the elbow.
He rolled his sleeve back down and sat in the same position. He closed his eyes while listening to the background of birds chanting away. The dried and crunchy leaves swirl by with the forces of the gusting wind flowing by. He inhales deeply to realise that what he was taking in and releasing, was in fact the moist of the sea breeze. The sound of breaking waves splashing out rough tunes on the rocky coast brought the memories back.
He slept into the world of meditation. He saw them rushing towards him like a hungry pack of wolves. The three boys were angry and they barked words which he could not remember. His mind was getting too old to keep up with the sharp and small details of more than four decades old.
All three teenagers furiously charged at him at the same time. Two punches headed for his face while one came for his chest. The old man found himself eluding the punches by quickly moving backward and made a move to the one closer to his face by seizing it by the wrist. At the same time he made half a turn while he put immense power in pulling the wrist in the same direction it was meant to go.
His nemesis body picked up an abnormal speed which slightly upset its own momentum. In those days the old man was at his peak of his youth. He witnessed himself releasing his nemesis wrist. Without delay he generated a powerful blow from his open palm to his enemy’s solar plexus. This immediately changed the course of his aggressor’s fall. The blow at the pressure point sent him sideways and backwards onto his two friends. All three went down and end up on top of each other.
At his peripheral view he had seen something coming. He had sense danger. He turned right towards it and the muscular boy had recovered. Something headed his way. The massive teenager had thrown it at him and there was no time to run.
It was heading for his face. He raised both hands towards his face to absorb and block the impact. Confused by the strong impact which had upset his balance he was forced backward. Next he was falling as the ground seems to crack underneath him.
Nearby the rotten log which he realised that the big teenager had thrown at him perished. Adrenaline rush of fear conquered his bravery. Frightened memories of that fall kick him out of the meditation. Awaken, he turn to the edge of the plateau. The old man remembered how dangerous it had been to go over the edge.
The limit of the plateau abuts with empty ground. It was dangerously suspended from sea level at an enormous height. He was afraid that he might meet his destiny if he moves closer. ‘Curiosity kills the cat,’ his mother had always warned.
The frail man closed his eyes and focus on the sound of the sea birds diving and hunting for fish. His mind fell back into the trance. His body was present but his mind was absent and back in time. He could felt the phobia of falling. He came to his senses and caught hold of something at the edge.
Dangling and staring at his feet was a scary experience. The cliffs that lay feet below brought uncontrollable and shivering fears of madness throughout his body. Volatile waves splashed on the hard surface of the sharp edges of the deform cliffs from below. Frothy sea water which came in and out from the Atlantic Ocean was all, an unpleasant sight of scenery.
Frightening experience of being trapped and falling to his death overpowered his mind. Shock was for certain but he held on to whatever he was holding firmly. Sweat of fear rolled from his forehead, drips on his shoe and disappeared at the fall. Further down, underneath his dangling feet, the waves conquered the robust cliff with a roaring sound of splash and retrieving to the ocean.
The monotone sound of the continuous motion of the waves made him realised that he had to do something. Help wasn’t coming and indeed if it was to come he knew that he would not last long. He noticed that the dripping sweat was no longer colourless, but rather a mixture of thick blood red with dirt.
Overlooking at the top to where his left hand has got hold of, he noticed that he was suspended to the protruded roots of a nearby tree from the footpath. He remembered how he thought the roots might not be able to cope any longer with his weight. His reflex action had automatically take control of the situation by allowing his survival instinct to react. On his way down his hands had fidgeted wildly, closing and locking down at anything it could during his fall. The continuous sliding and dragging effects made their mark. It had slashed opened a gash which spread from his left arm from the wrist up near the elbow.
He knew that it took a while to feel the sharp agony when his blood was still warm. He used his right hand as it was still hanging and aw
aiting to get hold to the rest of the roots. Protrude roots which spread outwards from the disintegrated edge of the plateau became a vital natural ladder. He used his upper body strength to climb the upright edge.
‘Where is he?’ he hear a young voice said.
‘Yes where is he? Does anybody see him?’ He heard a different one asked.
‘Do not move!’ One of the boys said.
‘Shouldn’t we all head back and let him be? After all, the edge of the plateau is not safe for us.’ Someone else said.
‘Yes, perhaps we should leave in case if he is down there? ….And the Police?’
‘What about the police? There’s no murder here. There was no motive here instead just an accident. We need to make an anonymous call about a rescue mission though.’ He could remember the voice of the bully’s main man.
‘I assumed that it’s 911.’ He heard the latter voice responded again.
‘Involuntary manslaughter and voluntary manslaughter are both murders. We should hope and pray that his holding on to something. Make an anonymous call and give the exact location while we make a run. We better pray that he’s not dead and perhaps holding on to something.’ Somebody exhorted to their attention in a curious and scary manner.
He waited for a while though he could not hear them. He wanted to fake his own death. The old man then saw his young self slowly climbing up in pain with the help of the protrude roots. Once he was up he threw himself onto the plateau’s surface and then crawled on his right uninjured side, far away from its edge.
‘You think that you’re Mr Nice Guy.’ Tony said.
‘Now, what’s the problem Tony?’ I asked unafraid.
‘You’re the problem. It seems that you’re deaf.’
Tony had brought his rough terrain bicycle to a halt. Armed with shock absorbers at the front and back, accommodates by the rough terrain wheels. He keeps one leg on the pedal which was up and one leg on the ground as if he was waiting for me to make a run. Behind him a group of four bullies had also anticipate my moves. They mimic and adopt the emergency posture in case I made a run.
THE GATE KEEPER Page 5