All the Gates of Hell

by Richard Parks

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  Chapter 17

  The next morning the door to the Legal Aid office was locked when Jin arrived. She just stared at it curiously for a moment or two, then realized that the blinds were still pulled and the lights, except for the few they habitually left on, were off. Jin fumbled through her bag until she found her key and let herself in.

  No Joyce. The message light on her phone was blinking, but no Joyce. Jin checked her own phone, but there were no messages, especially nothing from Joyce explaining her absence, or "hold the fort until I get there," or anything of the sort. Jin dialed Joyce's number and got her answering machine, but that was all. She hung up without leaving a message.

  Jin pushed the code into Joyce's machine that forwarded her calls to Jin's phone and tried to get on with her work, but it was hard to concentrate. After about an hour Jin couldn't stand it any more. She called Joyce's apartment one more time and, when that only got Joyce's answering machine, she took a photo she had of Joyce and scribbled Joyce's address on a sheet of note paper. In that instant Ling appeared in a blink of light, just in front of Jin's desk.

  "Jin, I'm afraid the person calling himself Jonathan Mitsumo has eluded us."

  Jin, her mind still on Joyce, shifted gears slowly. "Shiro? How?"

  "We're not entirely sure," Ling said, a little defensively. "He went to his office this morning as usual, and then he just wasn't there."

  "Can he open one of those gateways like you and Frank do?"

  "Certainly not," Ling said. "These means are not for the likes of him. We're searching for him now. We will find him."

  "No," Jin said. "I have another errand for you. I was going to call Frank, but since you're here..."

  Jin handed her the paper and a photo Jin had taken of Joyce having lunch in the park the year before. "Remember Joyce, my boss? I've written down her address. First I want you to find Frank and tell him to go watch my mother instead. If Shiro's up to something I want her guarded, understand? Then go to Joyce's apartment and see if she is there. Don't let her see you or anything, just come back and tell me. I'm worried about her."

  "As you wish."

  Ling vanished through the familiar doorway of light. She wasn't gone five minutes before she reappeared in almost the exact same spot. "Frank is watching your Mother now; there's no sign of Shiro. And no one is at Joyce's home."

  How very strange...

  Jin nodded absently. "Thanks... uh, do you think Frank will be all right on his own for a little while? It isn't like Joyce to go missing without letting someone know. I want you to find her."

  "If that is what you want, I am ready. As for Shan Cai, he can take care of himself," Ling said which, Jin thought, might be the closest thing to a compliment the girl had ever paid to him within Jin's hearing.

  "I'm glad someone can. Get going, then."

  "Going now, Jin," Ling said, and in another moment she was, in fact, gone. Jin thought it might have been her imagination, but Ling seemed to give her a lot less attitude when she was given a clear task to perform. Jin resolved to keep that in mind.

  Jin thought she was worrying for nothing. Doubtless Joyce had car trouble or needed to run an unexpected errand. Jin repeated the thought often, but it didn't help. She tried to concentrate on her work as best she could, but the minutes seemed to crawl by until Ling returned about an hour later.

  "I've found her," Ling said.

  Jin realized she'd been holding her breath, and let it out. "Great! Where is she?"

  "On her way to the Terrace of Oblivion."

  "Terrace...? You mean she..." Jin suddenly couldn't see very well; Ling's face was blurring like a badly focused presentation.

  "The Ninth Hell, yes. She is dead."

  Ling said it so calmly, with neither malice nor sorrow. It was simply a fact, and she was reporting it as Jin had requested. That was all.

  "What...what happened?"

  "I do not know. You did not instruct me to question her about her absence."

  Jin rose a little unsteadily from her desk and went to lock the door to the office entrance. "Please take me to her."

  "Do you really think that's wise? The process is working as it should -- "

  "Now," Jin said.

  Ling made no further protests, but opened a doorway as Jin rushed through. They were at the entrance to Madame Meng's palace. "Joyce has already entered," Ling said, "I can't go to her directly now."

  "Wait here," Jin said unnecessarily, and passed through the doorway as she had done the day before. Nothing had changed so far as Jin could tell. People still arrived, shuffled toward the Terrace and its fountains, while others shuffled back toward the entrance to the Tenth Hell and their next chance -- or rather their next obligation -- in life. Jin looked about frantically, but of course it was like looking for a needle in a haystack the size of a mountain.

  Jin gave up and ran out onto the terrace. Madame Meng was there, in almost the exact same spot she'd stood the day before. "Madame Meng, you've got to help me! I'm looking for a friend..."

  "Yes, I know," the old woman said sadly.

  Jin staggered to a stop as Madame Meng's words sank in. Now she remembered what the old woman had said before Jin had left the Ninth Hell after her first visit, something about "visiting again soon." Jin hadn't thought too much of it at the time. Now and for a little while it was all she could think about.

  "Son of a..."

  "I don't see how insulting someone's mother is going to help," Madame Meng said. "Nor really what you hope to accomplish now, Jin. Lovely as it is to see you again, I think you should go home."

  "I have to talk to Joyce!"

  Madame Meng regarded her with an expression of polite curiosity. "Why is that?"

  Jin stopped. She had no idea what the answer might be. She thought furiously. "I need to know that she's all right!"

  "All right? She's dead, child. Dead, that is, until she passes through the Tenth Hell and returns to Medias. She's not ready to move on, but of course you already know that."

  Jin realized she did know that since, if Joyce had been ready to leave Medias, Jin would have known, just as she knew about the man hoarding lemon slices in the diner. "She died too soon, then! It shouldn't have happened!"

  Madame Meng sighed. "Several lifetimes are often required before a person is ready to leave a particular hell, and this was merely one. Even in your currently confused state, you know this, too."

  "She was my friend," Jin said softly.

  "I'm sorry, Jin, but the one doesn't change the other."

  Jin took a long slow breath, and let it out again. "Madame Meng, I need to know what happened to her. Why... why she's here. Please, it's important."

  "To whom? Joyce?"

  Jin met the old woman's gaze. "It's important to me."

  Madame Meng nodded. "So long as you understand that, I'll help you. Go to the third fountain to your right. She is there."

  Jin took off at a run. She passed the first fountain, then the second. She skidded to a stop by the crowd clustered around the third fountain, waiting for their turn to drink. Jin took a closer look at the fountain and realized what she'd thought was water was really a very fine mist, almost like smoke. It pooled and swirled as the people there cupped their hands and drank.

  Where...?

  There. Just at the edge of the crowd, calmly waiting her turn, was Joyce.

  "Joyce! It's me, Jin!"

  Joyce didn't look at her at first. She seemed fascinated by the fountain. She moved closer as the people closer in took their turn and left the terrace. She finally turned around when Jin rushed up, breathless.

  "Oh. Hi, Jin."

  For a moment Jin thought she was going to burst into tears of relief. "You still know me!"

  "Of course I know you. Listen, can we talk later? It was a long walk here and I'm just so thirsty..."

  "Please don't drink yet," Jin said, "I need to find out what happened to you. Was it an accident? Did... did someone hurt you?"
/>   Joyce just stared at her for a moment. "I don't know what you're talking about."

  "Don't you know where you are?"

  "I'm where I'm supposed to be. Ain't that weird? I've never been here before and I don't really know why I'm here now, but I'm supposed to be here. Are you supposed to be here, too?" Joyce glanced at the water. "I'm supposed to drink. I need to drink, Jin."

  Jin knew it was impossible now, but she wanted to grab Joyce's shoulders, hold her, make her understand. More even than that, she wanted to hug her tight and say how sorry she was, for everything. For not being there. For not stopping it, whatever it was. For not being able to help. For not being a better friend. For not... Jin stopped, and she felt ashamed. This couldn't be about Jin. Now now.

  "Joyce, listen to me just for a moment. Can you do that for me? Do you remember what happened to you? Try hard, please. Just before you found yourself on this mountain, where were you?"

  Joyce frowned. "I was with someone. Then I wasn't..." Her expression cleared. "Oh, that. Yes, I remember, Jin. It doesn't matter."

  "It does matter!"

  "Not to me, not to nobody. It happened."

  "What happened?"

  "Jin, let it go. I think I'm about to."

  The way in front of the fountain was clear, and Joyce reached down and took the smoky liquid in her hands and drank deep. Her expression didn't change for several long moments, then noticed Jin staring at her. "Oh. Hello. Do I know you?"

  Jin shook her head, slowly. "I was looking for a friend. You reminded me of her."

  Joyce nodded politely. "I think I have to go now. I... I hope you find who you're looking for."

  "Thank you. So do I," Jin said, as Joyce joined the crowd shuffling off to the gate to the Tenth Hell. Jin remained by the fountain. She wasn't sure how long she stood there, but that's where Madame Meng found her.

  "Did you get what you wanted?"

  "No," Jin said.

  "I'm sorry she wasn't more cooperative, but dying does change one's perspective, I'm told. It's been so long since I've done it that I quite forget," she added a little wistfully.

  "You knew Joyce was going to die, didn't you?" Jin asked.

  "Of course, since everyone mortal dies at some point. Perhaps even I will, if my job here is ever done. Did I know your friend was going to die and didn't warn you? No. I'm not omniscient, Jin, and there's just too much going on to keep track of it all; even Bodhisattvas have to specialize and, as I already told you, I'm not one. But I can see ahead, just a little, now and then. I knew you would be back, and it would not be for a happy reason. I shouldn't have said anything."

  Jin went to the terrace railing and Madame Meng followed her.

  "Why not?" Jin asked after a while. "You should have told me more! Maybe I could have figured it out -- "

  "There was nothing to 'figure out' Jin. All my comment did was make you think there was something you could have done to change what happened to your friend. That's why I shouldn't have said anything."

  "There must have been something I could have done!"

  "Why? Because you would have it so?"

  Jin smiled a grim smile. "You said it yourself -- you're not omniscient."

  Madame Meng sighed. "True enough. But I still don't think I'm wrong. And I am sorry about your friend."

  "Me too."

  Jin didn't say anything else about it. There didn't seem to be any point. Joyce was dead and, somehow, Jin had let it happen. Nothing could change that now, but there was still something she could do. There had to be. Jin said goodbye to Madame Meng and went back to where Ling was waiting for her.

  "You don't look pleased. Were you too late?" Ling asked.

  "Apparently. Please take me back to the office...wait." Jin looked around.

  "What's wrong?"

  "I felt as if someone pulled on my hand."

  "There's no one else here," Ling said.

  Jin knew this was true. She had even risked cracking open her Third Eye for a quick peek, but there was no one. What there was instead was a shimmering golden thread tied around her left wrist, invisible when she looked with her two human eyes. "So that's what that tugging was... That's how I know where I have to go. I just didn't see it before... I think I've been summoned."

  "Yes. Shall I take you there?"

  "I don't know where 'there' is yet, but I have no doubt I'll find it. Please go on back and help Frank."

  Ling frowned. "Are you all right?"

  "I'm fine. I'll call if I need you, thanks."

  Ling looked doubtful, but Jin smiled at her and after a moment Ling dutifully opened a circle of light and vanished. It was only after Ling departed that Jin started shaking. She stumbled to a rock next to a weeping willow a few feet off the pathway and sat down hard.

  Ok, so I lied.

  Jin wasn't sure how long she sat there, staring out into the depths of sky between Madame Meng's mountain palace and the cliffs leading to the hell corridors. She didn't cry. Jin had expected to, indeed taken it for granted that, once she found a quiet place to sit alone, she would cry: for Joyce, for herself, for everything in her life that seemed to call for mourning, but none of it happened.

  Not yet. I don't have the right.

  Was that it? Or was it simply not the right time? Jin wasn't sure, but as she sat there the constant faint tugging at her wrist finally brought her back from the beautiful abyss in front of her and back to more practical concerns. She stared at her wrist, ruefully.

  "I don't suppose you'd mind waiting until I feel more like myself? No? I thought not."

  Jin tested her legs and, when they didn't wobble overmuch, she got back on her feet and started down the mountain path, always led by the tug of an invisible golden chain.

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  Chapter 18

  Jin was rather hoping for another Japanese garden, like the one that had surrounded Michiko, but no such luck. This was a more hellish sort of hell. Jin stood on a high ridge overlooking a plain of black sand and what looked like the charred skeletons of burnt-out trees. Here and there across the landscape firepits erupted like the craters of volcanoes, throwing ash and molten rock into the air to fall like searing rain onto the sand. Jin felt another tug on her wrist. As she had done so many times before, she peeked with the Third Eye just enough to tell which way the golden thread was leading. She was in the right place, though she wasn't particularly happy about it.

  Dante would have loved this place.

  Jin had taken two steps down the slope before she realized that she was in full demon form. She stared at her taloned feet for a moment, curious. She didn't feel frightened, especially, despite her surroundings. Just now Jin didn't feel much of anything. Why had she changed, other than this obviously was not a nice place to be? Jin was wondering whether she should change back. Despite its strength and ferocity, or perhaps because of them, Jin didn't especially enjoy her demon form most of the time, and the few times she had, such as when she used it to pound that mugger back in Medias, she'd felt a little sick afterwards. Then one of the nearby firepits threw a small lava bomb that struck her squarely on the side of the head and exploded into steam and tektite shards.

  "Shit, that hurt..." Jin reached up and rubbed the spot where she had been struck. It was another full moment before the meaning of what had just happened got through to her, and it was simply this -- if that lava bomb had hit her mortal human form, it would have killed her stone dead. At that point Jin surrendered all notions of walking through this particular hell in her human body.

  When it comes to being Guan Yin, my instincts are smarter than I am.

  Jin realized that, buried somewhere deep inside her, the same irritating Guan Yin who appeared now and then to bedevil her dreams was alive and working and, when it came to the duties of the goddess, she was in charge, not Jin. She still could not remember being Guan Yin and perhaps never would, thanks to Madame Meng's skillful brewing, but she had to be grateful that there was a part of her who knew how to be Guan Yin at n
eed. It had never failed her before. Jin hoped it wouldn't fail her now.

  Hear that, Guan Yin? Don't screw this up... whatever it is.

  Jin followed the trail of the golden thread. She wasn't in a particular hurry, despite her awful surroundings. Now and then she caught herself dallying, such as the time she paused to watch a pack of demons flogging several people into climbing one of the seared trees. Embedded in the trunks and branches of those trees were the same volcanic shards that resulted from lava bombs like the one that had struck Jin; the people climbing the trees were being cut to ribbons. Jin wanted to feel sorry for all the people being tortured, except they weren't making it easy for her. They screamed, they cried, but through it all Jin saw no fear, only anger. They cursed at the demons driving them, cursed the trees, cursed at Jin as she walked by, and through it all lashed out at each other even as the demons lashed them.

  All that torment and pain, and all they can feel is rage?

  As much as she wondered about this, she wondered even more why she had stopped to watch it. Jin wondered if, perhaps, there was a principle here that she was overlooking, but for the life of her she couldn't quite see it. She shrugged and kept walking.

  The tug at her wrist was persistent but not frantic. Jin knew that there was no particular urgency, so why did it feel wrong to her that she did not want to proceed with any urgency? After all, her whole purpose here was to free someone suffering in hell and help them move on to whatever came next for them. Shouldn't she want to hurry? Hadn't whoever it was suffered enough, or at least enough of this particular hell?

  One quick trip to Madame Meng's fountain terrace and they'll just be back in hell...well, a different one, anyway. What difference does it make?

  Jin thought of the little girl she'd freed from the corridors of hell on her first day on the job. It had made a difference to her. It had made a difference to Michiko, and Buddy, and even that silly man counting lemons. It mattered, even if she didn't pretend to understand precisely why.

  Jin's taloned feet sank a bit into the sand under her weight with every step. Jin paused for a moment to look behind her at the trail of dark footprints she'd left behind her. Jin almost giggled. It looked like pictures she'd seen of a volcanic sand beach in Hawaii. Certainly nothing at all like Ship Island...