The Gatekeeper: Chapter One, Part One

 

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Chapter One

The Fugitive

The sky was dark, clouds overhead. He could tell it had rained recently, the concrete beneath his feet still darkened and dampened by moisture. The streetlights above glared, their slight halo irritating the man. With a scowl, he put up his collar and tipped his hat, careful not to be seen. His trenchcoat almost dragging behind him, he did his very best to keep a low profile as he walked the deserted streets of rural Los Angeles. 

Even at night, every car headlight that shone upon him made him flinch a little, wary that he’d been caught after so much effort put into evasion. But no, it was always a neighbor, returning home from work, or the postman, or some banal, ordinary thing like that. And so he kept walking, looking for but one thing.

He checked his recently purchased burner phone, an extremely outdated model that nevertheless functioned almost exactly like many of the popular, new phones on the market. It was getting late now, almost eight o’clock. That time of night when a creature of darkness like himself would be at his best, so accustomed to the night as he was, but also when anyone roaming the streets - again, like himself - would be held to twice as much suspicion. And, with the amount of distance he had to put between him and his pursuers, avoiding suspicion would be paramount to survival. He could not help it; he would have to stop for the night.

But how, he thought. To explain such an incursion into one’s property at such a late hour from such a stranger as I? This is not like home — I cannot come and go from other people’s houses as I please. Humans have standards. How to abide by them…?

He noticed the emptiness in his stomach — he had not eaten since yesterday, when he had stolen a pie someone had foolishly left on a windowsill to cool. Still the shame persisted from such an incident. Whoever’s pastry that was, they had invested, surely, significant time and effort into it. They did not deserve to have such misfortune, such intentional harm befall them, but there was nothing that could be done about it. If he had not swiped that pie, he would be starving even more than he already was. And, of course, he wouldn’t still be here — not with his precious cargo, at least.

Ah, yes, the twelve-year-old gang, he recalled fondly, smiling despite the near mortal danger he’d been put in. A chance run-in with a group, five or six people - he couldn’t recall exactly, the excitement having been a little too much for his memory to recall anything in depth beyond that - with blades, crude and unrefined craftsmanship evident. He’d barely eaten any of his regretfully earned pie, delicious as it was, before he’d been surrounded by those young thugs. He’d thought he’d been blown, captured by those who sought him, but no, these were mere common criminals, hungry and turned to violence. Almost like himself. So when they demanded the contents of the satchel he wore so protectively across his chest, he had offered them a trade, instead, and they had accepted the pie… well, not gratefully, but contently, and let him go.

He chanced another look at his phone, having almost lost himself in thought, and realized the battery was running somewhat low. No problem, of course, because he had several portable chargers with him… but that fact was by no means obvious to anyone who observed him. He grinned, almost regretting it immediately — he knew what to do now.

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 [Author's note: Thank you for reading the first part of Gatekeeper! Sorry if it seems a bit off, Gatekeeper originally wasn't intended to be read in such short parts, but this seems to be the best way to bring it to you through M&M. It's a short story set in the same world as my novel, and I'm really excited to be publishing this here and seeing how you like it. New parts should be coming weekly. Until next time!]