THE GATE KEEPER

by JULES GABRIEL

  ‘You’re out of your head.’

  ‘Am I,’ he responded sarcastically as he smiles.

  ‘Look around us the world has change and the process of changes for the better is still on going. You want be able to do a thing about it.’ I walk away.

  ‘I will, believe me I will help make some changes and the most important one is to prevent guys like you to be with young ladies like Samantha.’

  I come to a halt and with my back facing him I told him, ‘One more thing, most of us who think that they the true Americans….’

  ‘Am all ears,’ he responded joyfully in a teasing fashion.

  ‘Well we’re all not the true Americans. Your descendants made them extinct.’

  He was speechless. I step on my bicycle and ride out hoping that he had learn something from our little conversation. Physical racism had been abolished from 1836 but the psychological racism has taken over. The generation of white settlers which had carry on with their racist ideology within their family.

  The law had prevented them from being above it but it didn’t stop them from not liking another person for simply being a different skin colour. Teachings of resentment for the inferior skin were passed on to generation after generation of the white families who believed that they were the superior race.

  9

  Broken hearted was how I felt. Tears keep on rolling down as I ride the bicycle home. I park it next to the garage. Wipe and soak my tears with my T-shirt and stand outside for a while. Worst scenario was to have my mum seeing me in that devastated state.

  I took the key from my front jean’s pocket, open the front door and got in. I ran straight for my room upstairs and closed the door for a bit of privacy. I drop to my bed and curl myself as I face the only windows of my room.

  ‘Phil! Is that you?!’ Mum shouts out.

  ‘Yes, it is!’

  ‘Are you ok?!’

  ‘Yes mum!’

  Then I could hear footsteps up the stairs. The creaking sounds of the floorboards of the stairs were the greatest giveaways of her location. My ears had learned to adapt to the right tone of her movement. So unique that I could deciphers the creaking sound of any strangers.

  ‘I know there’s something wrong with you today and you can’t hide it from me.’ Mum said as she climbs the flight of stairs.

  ‘Please leave me alone I’m just tired.’

  ‘You don’t have to hide anything from me as you can speak to me about any problem you might have. Beside that’s what I’m here for as your mother.’

  Then the door of my room creaks open.

  ‘May I have some privacy please….?’

  ‘Phil, are you on anything?’

  ‘What do you mean mum?’

  ‘Drugs or alcohol?’

  I look at her and say, ‘Please let me be for a while.’

  ‘Oh my G….. You’re on drugs.’

  ‘Mum, do not be naïve and come into conclusion about what you can’t comprehend. What make you think that I’m a druggie?’

  ‘Your eyes are the greatest give away son.’

  ‘Mum, you don’t have to worry about me as I’m too good for any substance abuse.’

  ‘Watching you curling like a baby at an early time of the day just gives me the creep and beside I just don’t want you to spoil your life.’

  Mother walks in and sits on my bed beside me. Then she asks, ‘then what is it my son? I can sense something bothering you.’

  I look at her and she stares at me as if she was reading me. Trying to find out what happened by trying to read the expression from my face. Getting closer to the truth was her aim. Hiding my emotion often left her clueless.

  I felt like I could no longer hold it in. I had to let her know. She was the only person I could trust, beside, she gave life to me….

  ‘I was racially abuse today.’

  ‘Who was it?’

  ‘A colleague who I thought was a friend.’

  ‘What did, he or she said?’

  ‘It was a he mum.’

  ‘Ok, then what did he said to you?’

  ‘He made me aware that my brown skin colour was the same as the dirty water that runs on the eighteenth century canon when it rains. He also Make me aware that I’m not fit for their.....’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’m not fit for their white girls.’

  She keeps quiet for a while as if she was surprise of what I had told her. Mum turns at the window embracing the dusky sky which paves way for the night sky. The spectacular and natural orange colour of the sky slowly fades. I click the nearby switch on the wall and the room becomes alight.

  Outside, two blokes across the street someone had followed Phil. It was the first time the nemesis had done so. It was neither for curiosity nor for pleasure. For the nemesis it was simply business. Better to know the existence of the devil than not knowing his every move at all.

  Estimating the enemy’s move was unprofessional. Dressed in a full leather suite, gloves and a black helmet, it was impossible to identify the stranger. The tinted visor rest atop of the helmet and one leg rest on the pavement. The stranger made a stealthy park in between two neighbouring car and patiently waited.

  Outside, the nemesis had witness the light going on from within the monitored house. As the night sky reprised its role for the day, the enemy could hardly be seen. The silhouette only gave out an outline sketch of someone on a bike. Neighbours were all preoccupied with their own affairs and no one noticed the stranger’s presence. Blending in to remain a low profile was part of the game.

  My mind was racing in thoughts of all the obstacles faces today. Fascinated by the old man I began to wonder if he was for real. I kept the unfortunate events of mysteries for myself. I couldn’t share it with her. After all it all sound too science fiction for even myself to believe in it. Being a witness who had felt the fear and seen it I had become a believer. There was no doubt about that.

  Still looking outside she says, ‘I was born and raised from a little town in Mississippi. I fell in love with someone not of my parent’s wish. In the small community where I and your grand-parents live, this was considered forbidden.’

  ‘Is it dad you’re talking of?’

  ‘Yes, I was this young white girl in love with a young black boy who lived on the other side of a small country village somewhere in Mississippi. Though we all went to school together there was a feeling of abnormality. They were treated as an outcast.’

  There was a pause but I wouldn’t let this chance slip away. It was the first time that she was about to spit it out. The father I had never had a chance to meet. She had always refrain herself from talking about it. She had acknowledged that it was too painful to relive the tale.

  ‘Mum, are you alright?’

  ‘Yes, I am,’ she responded in a low pitch.

  ‘Please continue.’

  ‘We were planning to run away and start a life together over here at the outskirt of Oxnard City, California but…’

  At the side of her right cheek tears rolls down. I allow her to pause once more before she carries on as I did not want to interrupt.

  She wipes the tears and carries on, ‘somehow someone knew about our departure. The night we decided to flee from them it was the night they seize him. White men in white robe and mask rode the streets with wooden torch at the back of their trucks. I could still hear their voices as they scream for our names as we run and they furiously rode behind us.’

  Mum pause for a third time and stand up while she turns her back on me. She wipes her face and says, ‘the funny thing is that I could ID them as their voices weren’t new to me.’

  ‘Who were they?’

  ‘My dad, some young white boys I went to school with, the sheriff and his deputy as well. They murdered him. We were seventeen years old and I was pregnant with you. Two days later I left and came here but I had never forgotten them.’

  She walks towards the door, come to a halt and says, ‘one thing.’

&
nbsp; ‘Yes mum.’

  ‘I want you to not forget where you’re from by not being racist to anyone even if they are of different skin colour, culture or different ways of thinking. Treat everyone equal in the same way you would have wanted them to treat you. Be kind and do no harm to anyone my son. Have respect for anybody but do not fear them. Those that misinterpret and abuse your kindness must face the consequences. Let your action speak for itself and be sure not to use excessive force. Be robust and bold when necessary to allow the wicked to think twice before they take advantage of your kindness, may it either be psychologically or physically.’

  ‘Wow, that’s quite a lot to assimilate. Thanks for the tips mum but I got the picture of what you’re trying to say.’

  ‘One more thing, have you seen the old man that came in this morning?’

  ‘No I haven’t…..’ I lie but I was curious why mum wanted to know that.

  ‘Well he came in this morning with a good intention to help you with your studies. Strange, there was a sense of déjà vu. He reminds me of your father though I had never had the chance to see him old.’

  Mother walks out of my room and I could hear her weight giving out her position as it creaks the floorboards towards the bathroom. The door creaks open and close. Suddenly this was followed by the sound of the key locking the door.

  I come to my senses and sit up. It was only now that I realise that my school bag was on my back and in it I have something which seems precious. I remove my bag from my back, open it and take the envelope out. I was looking at the plain brown envelope from the back. My name and surname was printed in ink with the correct address.

  Something caught my attention that I could not resist to analyse it closely. The hand writing looks very familiar. I take a pen from my bag and scribble down the same name and address at the bottom of the envelope underneath the existing information. Immediately I compare both of them.

  I notice that it was very familiar but slightly different from mine. Except that the original one found on the envelope looks like an evolution of mine. I thought about what the old man had told me.

  I greedily tare the envelope open and take a closer look of what I could identify as a key. Its key ring was plastic and rectangle in shape. Engrave on it was an address which was ten blocks down the road. I needed to know the truth….

  I ran out of my room, lock it and call out, ‘Mum!’

  ‘What?’ she responds from the bath room.

  ‘Please don’t wake me up as I’m going to sleep. I’m too tired.’

  ‘What about your dinner?’

  I slowly and quietly lock the door of my room then reply, ‘No, thanks.’

  Quietly I head for the stairs and to the main door. I slide the key for my room and the main door in my pocket and left.

  Hours had gone by since the nemesis had been keeping the resident under surveillance. The nemesis had become impatient. The nemesis comes off the bike, stand in the middle of the road, out of plain sight and afar from the street light which were at either side of the tarmac road. Under the cover of darkness the biker stealthily head towards the monitored residence.

  Gathering intelligence was a vital task for the biker. Thinking about the possible findings at the other side of the surveillance door made the biker excited that running became inevitable. The biker starts with a light jog and slightly increases it to a sprint.

  To the biker’s amazement the light from inside fill the door step. The biker could also see the shadow of someone coming out. A quick emergency reaction has to be formulates to evade being notice. Immediately the biker dive to the pitch black ground in front of a parked van nearby and slightly opposite the prey’s house.

  The stalker remains still on the ground overlooking the house. The military technics and tactics of concealment had to be applied. To see without being seen, he thought. The stalker’s victim walks out, slowly close the door and lock it as quietly as possible. He then glances in both ways before he finally decided to depart the opposite way, away from the biker.

  Hidden under the cover of darkness the stalker keeps a watch on his enemy as he walks away. When the prey was far enough the biker stands up, slowly move backwards and start to pace back from the middle of the road. There was no way the predator could have been spotted. Darkness became the biker’s best friend in the art of concealment.

  10

  I managed to get out without being notice by mum. The walk had been filled with doubts and curiosity. I gave thorough thoughts about what I was told by the old man. Something wasn’t right but I couldn’t see through yet. What he had told me felt like an anxious mystery.

  Had he committed suicide purposefully? If yes why? Why was he afraid of the police from the flying automobile? Where they real police officer’s vehicles? Where are they from? Is it the future like he had tried to convince me to believe or just a futuristic project undertaken by the government? Perhaps they were extra-terrestrial from another dimension of the galaxy. I just felt like I had to know the truth. After what I had witnessed I had to keep an open mind about the possibilities of where they might be from.

  Something from behind had interrupted my thoughts. I turn around to see what it was while I walk backwards. All I could see was darkness from the road and I was alone. Near my mum’s house was my mum’s car and the opposite was a van. Both vehicles were hidden in darkness. The nearest lamp post shed minimum light on the street. Beyond the illuminating light I could see only dark unrecognised shadows.

  Deep in thought I swear to myself that I had heard the sound of an engine coming to life but my eyes confirmed the opposite. The feelings that I was being watch had corrupted my mind though there was no suspicious movement or light. The street remains quiet for now. I come to a halt and pause my heavy breathing while I listen to my surroundings. There was a faint sound of engine roaring at a distance but still there was no movement.

  I pace myself backward while I search for any sign of movements within my surrounding of thick spacious darkness. Without realising I was at the address engraved on the key ring. I reach for the key in my pocket. With partial light from the lamp post I confirm the address number on the key ring.

  25 Palmer Road matches with the number on the door. There was no doubt that I was in the wrong road. The road which I had known and learn how to survive it for years. I had stand up against so much injustice and resist the temptation of joining a gang of bullies.

  The house had been deserted for years. Words from the kids on the street state that it’s a haunted house. Superstitious beliefs were not my cup of tea but after I thought of it the fear factors were catching on. It had been uninhabited for years after its landowner passed away.

  Dull light from the nearest lamp post made part of the house quite visible. I suck in the saliva of fear and walk up the three wooden steps to its porch. Every step I take the old wooden board gives in a creaking sound. Precaution had to be taken once on the porch to avoid the fallen and collapse of the rotten floor boards. There was no light coming from its windows.

  I slowly move towards the nearest windows and try to see through it. Nothing could be seen except thick blackness. I made my next cautious move towards the main door which was engraved with the number twenty five. I insert the key, unlock and open the door.

  The engine was on and running. The biker had remained still for a few minutes while surveillance had been kept at its height. The predator had seen every move of its prey. Closing in on the prey was the next step for the biker.

  Still camouflage in darkness the biker kick in the sides stand with the heel of the cowboy boots. Suspiciously the biker remains camouflage in darkness while staring at the prey. Making him feel secure and alone was the name of the game. The biker wanted to know what he was up to.

  Without the main headlight on the biker made a slow approach in the middle of the road, hidden in thick darkness. The prey disappears from the porch of the house as if swallowed by darkness. The biker’s bike trail in darkness to min
imise the engine revs as it moves closer to house number twenty five.

  One block away from the house, the nemesis stops the bike and brought the bike to its sides stand. The biker come off the bike and slowly walks to the house in search for the prey. Close enough to where he was Lasts seen, underneath the porch of the house, the biker realised that his disappearance made sense. The main door of the house was staring at him.

  There was a light. Exceptional rays of light which forms from underneath the crack of the screens of the window became visible. The nemesis moves closer to investigate the light.

  I was in and I was amaze to see that there was no corner blind within the interior. The door had mysteriously closed by the force. No entity was present but I came to the conclusion that it had been shut by an unknown source of wind. I could feel its presence and it seems to have come from inside. There was also a flickering source of white light.

  Outside I could hear the porch creaked once but stop as I focus on the movements by staying quiet. There was no time to allow myself to be frozen by panic. My legs had become heavy but I have gone too far to let go of the truth. The old man had promise me that I shall find the truth through the envelope. There was no turning back.

  The room I was in was empty. I went for the white light which was in another empty room across. I made a few steps to the door that lead to it on my left. I took in fresh air, exhale, relax my body and conquer my fear for what awaits for me on the other side. I walk in the room which were filled with the mysterious flickering white lights.

  Unstable flickering white lights were dashing in every direction from within the room. At its core there was a glowing oval shape machine. What appears to be the door was open and I could see its interior. Baffle and aghast I remain still.

  Then the hair on my skin stand up as tingling sensation runs underneath my skin. I look at the unusual machine and I felt compel to seek for the truth. The extreme desires to give it a try. I hide my fears of worries and head for it.