Gatekeepers

by Sam Ferguson

  Flint fingered the bullet and then put it away once more. He looked at me and offered the faintest of smiles. “My point, Mills, is that all of us have lost family. Take a good look around the table. We may be crazy, we may be the most incompatible misfits you can think of, but we are the only family any of us have left. Each of us knows a portion of your pain. We share it, but we have a job to do, and we have to move through the pain.”

  I nodded. I understood now that I was indeed part of the circle. I was a Gatekeeper, just like the rest of them. “Well then, I had best get started on locating Rathison. I won’t let any of you down.”

  We broke from the room. Mack followed me into my bedroom. I sat on the cot and Mack sat at the table. I reached out my hand and tried to conjure up my sword again. Nothing happened. Mack watched intently as I tried for several minutes. When nothing happened, I gave up on that and turned to Mack.

  “Do you have a picture of the mansion or a map or something?” I asked. “This is the first time I have tried this, so anything you could give me would help.”

  Mack nodded and left the room. He came back a few minutes later with several print-outs and his laptop. I set the pictures on the cot in front of me and studied them. Meanwhile, he brought up a satellite image on his laptop and then spun it around for me.

  “What else do you need?” he asked.

  “Time, I guess,” I replied. “I’ll have to figure this out on my own.”

  Mack took the hint and left the room, stopping at the door only long enough to say that he would be waiting right outside in case I needed anything at all. I smiled. Mack was a lot kinder than what I had first judged him to be when I had met him. Sure, he was arrogant, but he had a good heart, and he wasn’t nearly as off-putting as that first meeting would have suggested.

  I sat on the cot and focused on the pictures and the map. I remembered the old man’s counsel to find the place between sleeping and waking. I tried a modified meditation ritual and tried to lull my body into a more relaxed state. I was there until my feet were prickling from the lack of oxygen, but was met with no success. I stood and stomped out my feet to wake them up. After they felt normal again, I went back to the cot and started over. I was there for another hour before the door opened and in walked Indyrith.

  The tall elf closed the door behind himself and came to sit at the table where Mack had been. He looked at me intently with his bright, violet eyes, but didn’t speak. As he watched me, I felt a twinge of guilt squirm its way through my soul.

  “I should not have spoken to you like that,” I said with my eyes averted downward. “I was upset, but that was no excuse. If you have lost face in front of the others, I could make the apology a public one if—”

  “No, Joshua Mills, that will not be necessary,” Indyrith said. “I understand you are attempting to create your own portal into the dream world. I thought I might be able to help.”

  I wanted to extend my condolences for his daughter as well, but the words seemed to get caught between my brain and tongue, so instead, I nodded and accepted his offer. Like Flint said, we have all lost loved ones, but we had to persevere and finish the job.

  “I can help you get into your trance, and even direct you to the mansion,” Indyrith said. “But I will not go with you. I can dive into memories, but I cannot go into the actual dream world and actively use it. The best I can do is open the doorway for you.”

  “That will help a lot,” I said. “I have been sitting here forever and I can’t even find the door,” I said.

  Indyrith smiled. “Sometimes, we can try too hard, and thereby overlook the very thing we are searching to find.” The elf reached out with his hands and placed them on either side of my head. A warmth flowed into my temples and then I felt a rush of air swirl around us. A fog rose up from the floor and we were swallowed in darkness. Then, there was a single point of light off in the distance. It grew larger and brighter as we sailed toward it. After a few moments, I realized it was a great, sprawling mansion.

  The grounds were beyond enormous. There were gardens, pools, a river, a fairground, and several pavilions all along the land leading up to the massive, four-story building that was capped with a bright green and gold tile roof and set with turrets and towers. Great gargoyles clung to the white stone of the wall with one hand while reaching out toward the air with the other. Their snarling faces scanned the grounds, as if watching for intruders.

  A blue fountain shot up into the air some thirty feet in front of the granite staircase leading up to the french doors of the mansion. Parked at the bottom of the stairs were three cars, a Rolls Royce Wraith, a Mcleran 570 GT, and a BMW i8. Even if I hadn’t known that Brant Rathison was the son of a vampire family, the beamer would have made up my mind about him. As I dropped from the sky and set foot upon the driveway, I noticed that the license plate said “Vrum-Vrum.”

  Arrogant prick.

  Indyrith’s image waved to me and then faded away. “This is as far as I go,” he said.

  I watched him fade away and then looked around the grounds, wondering where I should go first to find the engine. Before going inside, I conjured up a nice, shiny key and made sure to redecorate the BMW. The dream world was turning out to be quite a bit of fun!

  I floated up the steps and slipped through the doors as if I were a ghost. I nearly cried out as I found myself about to bump into some sort of servant carrying a tray of food, but just as with the door, the servant passed through without being disturbed. I looked down at the key still in my hand and marveled at the power I suddenly found at my disposal. I could interact with objects if I wished, but if not, then they would be entirely undisturbed by my presence. Wanting to test the limits just enough to know how careful I needed to be while in Rathison’s mansion, I called out to the servant.

  “Oi, fetch me a plate of olives gov’na!” Not my best line ever, but it served its purpose. The servant continued onward without even stopping to turn around. Next, I ran up in front of the servant once more and waved at him. This time, he did stop. The bald man turned and looked as if noticing something for the first time. I froze, hoping I hadn’t made a terrible mistake.

  “Just your imagination Stanley, as you were,” the servant said to himself with a shake of his head. He then resumed walking toward a large door that was at least nine feet tall. He pulled the ring on the door and slid it open into a pocket in the wall.

  Beyond the opening I could see Brant Rathison. He was standing in the room with another man, and they were eagerly looking down at something on a round table and laughing as they spoke.

  “Ah! Stanley, good man!” Rathison said.

  I crept up to the door and walked through it just as Stanley closed it once more.

  “I took the liberty of making cucumber sandwiches and house lemonade, sir,” Stanley said.

  “That looks wonderful,” Brant said. “Place them on the table there, will you? Thanks.” Brant was not entirely what I expected. He had what could almost pass for a mullet, with his hair flowing down to his shoulders and a great goatee encircling his mouth. His eyes sparkled happily as he moved to grab two sandwiches and a drink. He turned to his guest and motioned toward the food. “You must try Stanley’s lemonade. It’s his own recipe. He won’t tell me everything that’s in it, but it does have a spritz of coconut rum, I can tell you that.”

  The guest turned around and nodded. “That sounds wonderful,” he said with just the hint of an accent. “As I was saying, my government is prepared to offer you another seven hundred hectares, tax free, of course.”

  “Mateo, I have all the land I need, so while I thank you for the generous offer, I must decline. I need only the help with the launch, as previously discussed.”

  The man identified as Mateo sighed and held his hands out to the sides. “It is a pity to waste such a ripe opportunity, but, I understand you have your reasons. As for the help with the launch, everything is already in place. We have the personnel standing by as we speak. The facility prepara
tions are ahead of schedule.”

  “So I will be able to launch three days after the gala?” Brant asked between bites of his sandwich.

  “You can launch the day after, if you like, Señor Rathison.”

  “No, no, three days after will suffice.”

  Mateo took a drink of his lemonade. “This is most excellent,” he said with a smack of his lips. “I shall have to ask for the full recipe.”

  “Alas,” Brant began, “Stanley will not divulge the secret, not even to me. Now, back to the launch. Can you guarantee the fuel I have requested?”

  “Yes, yes, everything is ready. You can rest easy, Señor Rathison. My government is most anxious to make this leap with you. Sending men to Mars will dwarf even the moon landing. The whole world will see Argentina as a power player. Once we have established the colony there, you will continue to use the launch site as your only launch center for when the tourist flights begin, yes?”

  “Of course, Mateo,” Brant said. “Argentina will be known as the most important place for advancing space exploration the world has ever known.”

  “Pfft!” I scoffed. “You mean it will be known as the last launch center if you have your way.”

  “Can I see it?” Mateo asked.

  “The rocket?” Brant asked. “My friend, you will see it soon enough, I promise.”

  “No, please, I want to see it. Come, just a peek. What can it hurt?”

  “Mateo, please, I’d rather not.”

  “Come, after all my government is offering you, I think it’s fair that I get to see the rocket. You owe me this,” Mateo said, his tone becoming far less playful than before.

  Brant popped the rest of his small sandwich into his mouth and promptly drank the rest of his lemonade. “Very well. If you insist.”

  “I insist, amigo.”

  Brant nodded. “Follow me.” Brant pulled a smart phone out of his pocket and flicked through a couple screens. A few seconds later, classical music filled the home, piped in by speakers in each room and hallway. I followed the two of them through the grand entryway, and then down into an elevator that dropped several levels below ground. It opened into a dimly lit hallway. This part was unlike the rest of the house. Instead of polished marble and aged wood, the walls were bare concrete, with metal conduit running along the upper corners. Every ten yards there was a single bulb on the wall. Music played down here as well, but the speakers here were far more obvious, and looked to be part of a PA system rather than an expensive entertainment network.

  “Amigo, you should not work in conditions like this,” Mateo said. “It’s too cold.”

  “The cold doesn’t bother me,” Brant replied calmly as he led Mateo down the long corridor to a single, red door. It opened before we reached it, and a pale skinned fellow came out from within. He wore a lab coat and held a clipboard in his hands.

  “Ah, Bob, how are you doing today?” Brant asked.

  “Fine,” Bob replied with a nod of his head. “Just on my way to grab a bite to eat.” The pale man looked at Mateo and offered a close-lipped smile.

  “Señor, you should let your workers see the sun more often,” Mateo said.

  “Not to worry, amigo, they have grown accustomed to the darkness,” Brant said.

  Bob walked past them and then his lips opened as his soft smile turned into a wicked sneer. “Oh yes, the darkness suits me fine,” he said with a laugh. I gasped when I saw the pointed fangs protruding from Bob’s mouth. I suddenly realized that Mateo was walking into a great deal of danger.

  They passed through the door and locked it. Feeling a sense of responsibility for Mateo, I rushed forward to warn him. Fully expecting to pass through this door as easily as all the others, I set into a full out sprint.

  Thwack!

  I bounced off the door and landed on my back, staring up at the ceiling and seeing through a pair of blurry, spinning eyes. What the crap was that? I sat up and tried again, but moved slower this time. My fingers stopped at the door. It was impermeable.

  The speakers began playing Ave Maria loud enough to nearly deafen me. I glanced up to them, but then went back to the door. There was a small, round window through which I could see the other room. Brant and Mateo were talking as Brant pointed to a schematic hanging on a wall. Three more pale-faced “engineers” were in the room as well. Brant pointed off to a hallway to the right, and the engineers began to lead Mateo out of the room in front of me. Brant turned to the red door and walked a few paces toward it. Then he stopped, and looked directly at me and waved. He flashed his billion dollar smile and then said something to the others that I couldn’t hear over the blaring music.

  The engineers turned on Mateo in a fury of fangs and claws. The poor man never stood a chance.

  Brant then smiled wider and offered me a casual middle finger before waving once more.

  I turned away from the door and tried to float up. I knew I couldn’t get through the door, but I had to get out. Somehow the man knew I was there. I had to warn the others that our attempt at covertly finding the engine had failed. I sailed upward and slammed into the ceiling as hard as I had the door.

  What is going on?!

  I turned and ran for the elevator, but that’s when I saw them. A pair of gargoyles, statues no longer, were blocking the way and snarling at me.

  The music paused and I heard the distinct sound of someone clearing his throat.

  “Hello, intruder,” Brant said. “I must commend you on your attempt to infiltrate my home. It was very brave, stupid, but brave. Now, as you can see, I have some urgent business to attend to, what with the Argentinian Ambassador now lying dead on my floor and a rocket to prepare. If you don’t mind, I’ll have you escorted out by my two friends there in the hall. Good day.”

  The speakers popped and then the music began playing once more.

  It was the ‘have a good day’ part that pissed me off. It wasn’t enough to trap someone, he had to rub it in my face. If I made it out of here, I was going to torch his frickin beamer, and then I was going to bring the three Vikings back to knock that smug smirk off his stupid face.

  The gargoyle on the left stood up and roared. Great fangs dripped with spittle as I saw all the way down the beast’s massive, black throat. I held my right hand out and called for my sword, but nothing happened. The gargoyles started laughing at me. The second one snapped its jaws together like some sort of monstrous Rottweiler. They began advancing slowly, prolonging the moments before the attack. I tried to summon my sword again, but still it wouldn’t work. I didn’t understand it. While it was true that I was walking through the real world, I was in the dream world, a world of spiritual essences that should allow me to do what I wanted. I glanced back to the door and had to wonder what kind of material it was made out of to prevent me from passing through it. Perhaps whatever it was also was in the walls of the tunnel.

  The first gargoyle shook his body as he dropped to all fours and stalked along the corridor.

  I looked up to the conduit running along the ceiling and an idea formed in my head. I launched up and ripped a section of it from the wall with superhuman strength. Sparks shot out as I pulled the cord from the last light in the hallway. The first gargoyle lunged toward me. I turned the metal piping around and held it like a spear. Tiny streaks of lightning shot out around the gargoyle’s chest as the heavy body crashed into it. I could smell burning flesh as the electricity scorched and seared the gray skin. The beast hissed and fought to turn away from it, but I pushed forward, driving the conduit into its flesh until it burned through. It roared in anguish as lightning jumped between its fangs.

  “How do you like that?!” I shouted as I drove my legs forward and pushed the behemoth back. The second gargoyle tried to squeeze past the first, but as its wing brushed against the first gargoyle’s body, it received a jolt of electricity that knocked it into the wall. Its head hit the cement hard enough that the wall itself shattered to reveal a silvery layer of metal inside of it. The gargoyle hissed
and walked backward.

  “That’s right, back, get back!” Brackets and bolts holding the conduit in place on the wall popped and shot out as I bent the long piping more with each step. I could hear the current humming and crackling as it searched out for targets, but with me being in the dream world, it didn’t harm me. The gargoyles snarled and roared, even clawed out at me, but they couldn’t get to me. When we finally reached the elevator shaft, I blew them a kiss and then bolted for the elevator. Having easily slipped through it on the way down, I knew that I could fly up.

  I did my best Neo impression and shot upward through the shaft as quickly as I could imagine. I heard a crash below me and looked down to see the gargoyles ripping the elevator apart in order to access the shaft. I flew out and into the entryway.

  Almost free!

  I passed through the front door, smiling and almost laughing at my victory.

  That was when I saw a massive, clawed hand sailing at my face. I turned to avoid it, but was caught in the left shoulder. Claws dug into my flesh, stopping my momentum as easily as one might snag a baseball from the air. A second later I was sailing backward, flung through the air by the gargoyle who had been lying in wait to catch me on the way out. I passed through the doors and watched as the portals shattered under the gargoyle’s strike. Wood splintered out across the marble entryway as I slid backward.

  I came to a stop in the middle of the room. The gargoyle from outside clawed his way into the house just as the two from below clambered out of the elevator shaft.

  “I’d give anything to have Katya’s big gun right about now,” I said. My sword appeared in my right hand. “Not exactly a hand-cannon, but it’ll have to do I guess.” I jumped up and watched as the beasts closed in. Other than the smoldering hole in one of their chests, each of them were in far better shape than I was. Blood was running down my left arm and the puncture wounds burned terribly. I was starting to understand what Wolverine must have felt every time his claws came out.