by J. R. Bowles
Even if she could get to a phone and call the police, those other men might catch her before they arrive. She would just have to wait and put her faith in this stranger.
As Bernie exited the alcove where they had been hiding, he spied a man coming down the street. At first glance, Bernie thought it was one of the cult members; but then he saw what appeared to be a typical-looking indigent. Just another homeless, in his long overcoat in the middle of summer.
What luck, Bernie told himself. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the remains of the twenty he had earlier. Quickly he determined how much they would need for subway fare and slid it back into his pocket. He then separated a ten from the remaining amount and decided he would offer the bum ten bucks for his coat. Most of these people would sell an overcoat in the middle of winter for a ten spot. Even less, if it would buy them something to drink.
“Good afternoon sir.” Bernie began as he walked toward the man.
“How do you do?” The man responded cordially and swayed slightly as he approached Bernie.
Bernie watched the man and decided it was more of a swagger than a sway.
Bernie was a little surprised by the clarity and quality of the man's voice. He appeared to be Oriental or Polynesian, although of unusual height for that ancestry. What was strange, now that Bernie thought about it: he had never seen a vagrant Oriental, not in New York. They were too hard working for that, or their families were too close knit, perhaps.
As the man approached, Bernie noted he wasn't actually filthy--probably wasn't a vagrant after all. It may be harder to get the coat than he had thought.
Bernie cleared his throat. “I was wondering if you would possibly sell me your coat?”
“Sell?” The man's eyes widened. “And how much are you offering me for it?”
“Ten dollars,” Bernie said hopefully.
“What do you need it for? I see you're running around without your shirt. Did you lose it gambling--or get mugged?” He smiled at Bernie and added. “I believe it is warm enough to travel without a shirt, though. So why do you need my coat?”
“Well, it's a long story, but it's not for me; it's for my girlfriend, she sort of lost her clothes.” Bernie exaggerated, hoping the man would respond.
“Girl friend? I don't see this girl friend?”
“She's hiding. Would you please sell me your coat!” Bernie pleaded, knowing he was wasting valuable time. “I haven't got much time. There's these guys after us, and they are liable to locate us anytime.”
“No, I won't sell it to you—but I will loan it to you. “
Slightly confused, Bernie said. “How can I find you to return it?”
“I'll go with you. I have nothing better to do.”
Bernie paused, running this through his mind. The guy looked harmless enough, and they were running out of time.
“Okay,” Bernie agreed, “here's the money.”
“Keep your money. Believe me, I'm not in need of it, but thank you anyway,” the man said, shaking his head and then taking off the long overcoat.
He handed it to Bernie. “Don't worry, no lice, I promise.”
Bernie nodded at him and headed back to Jackie with the coat.
Jackie crouched down as she heard his footsteps begin to descend.
“Hello,” Bernie called. “Jackie?”
“I'm here,” she responded.
She stood up and accepted the coat he was offering. Even in the dark he was acting like a gentleman, for he had turned his back so she could slip it on. She removed his shirt and put the coat on. Jackie wondered how he knew her name. She had no money, so she resigned herself to listening to this stranger.
“How did you know my name?” Jackie asked.
“Uh, well,” Bernie grinned in the dark. “I'm the one who bumped into you on the sidewalk up on 42nd Street. And I guess I followed you to the USO this morning, and saw those guys grab you. So I went into the USO and asked a bunch of questions. The girl there has a big mouth.”
“You’re a stalker?” Jackie paused. “Thank goodness, and thank you.”
“We've got to get out of here,” Bernie interrupted her.
“Okay, lead on. What's your name?”
“Bernie Goldfarb.” He offered his hand out into the darkness, and felt her warm hand clasp his in response.
“I guess you already know me then. Let's go.” Jackie said.
“We've going to have a little company going with us.” Bernie explained. “I had to borrow the coat. The guy didn't want to sell it but he said he would go with us to wherever we were going. Uh, Jackie?”
“Yes.”
“I thought we should go to my apartment. We will be safe there.”
“Okay.” Jackie agreed softly.
As they walked back up the concrete steps, Bernie greeted the man waiting there for them.
“Hi. We're ready. I'm Bernie and this is Jackie.”
“Call me Zolar.” The man offered his hand out and shook Bernie's and then Jackie's.
“I don't mean to be rude,” Bernie said, “or unappreciative, but we have these guys chasing us and we've got to get the hell out of here fast. Do you know where the nearest train to Brooklyn is from here?”
“No problem. I have a car in a garage a half a block from here,” Zolar offered. “I'll be glad to take you. Follow me.”
Bernie and Jackie turned to glance at each other in blank astonishment. He didn't look like he had a dime to his name--yet he had a car. They couldn't believe their luck. They fell in behind him.
“I'm familiar with Brooklyn a little, so where do you want to go?” Zolar asked them as he unlocked the four-door luxury car.
Bernie glanced down at the decal on the back and noted it was a rental car. Again Bernie exchanged glances with Jackie. It was as if their ordeal of this day had made them old acquaintances. Bernie told Zolar his address, opened the rear door for Jackie and then got into the front seat with Zolar. He wanted to ride in back, but felt Jackie would probably be a little more comfortable alone, since she had nothing on but the coat.
As Zolar pulled out of the garage he gritted his teeth and whispered. “There's a couple of black guys moving around the corner ahead, as if they're searching for someone. You better duck down.”
The two men scrutinized the car as Zolar drove past them.
“We're out of sight now, you can get up,” he told them.
They sat up looking around.
Zolar looked at the digital clock on the dash board. “Listen, I will explain this in a few minutes; but right at this moment we have to pull over and park. Please trust me. I know you don't know me, but you soon will.”
Zolar whipped the car over to a curb and came to a complete stop.
Bernie was ready to dart from the car, and already had the handle of the car door pulled. Jackie sat in the back seat just wondering to herself, now what?
* * *
Azid opened the door of the room where they had been holding Jackie prisoner to get her ready for the awakening. He was startled to find her gone. His first reaction was to run to the window, where he discovered the makeshift bridge.
“Oh shit,” he said aloud. “Jamal's going to go berserk.”
He ran from the room to find Jamal. “ Jamal, the bitch is gone.”
“What? How the hell did she get by us?”
“I don't know. It looks like someone helped her go through the window. They crossed over and went out through the house next door.”
Jamal stood up. His fists were balled and a vein stood out in his forehead.
“I want you to get everybody out on the street and find them!” he ordered vehemently.
Azid spun around and started calling everyone, telling them to find a white girl who would probably be running around without any clothes. He told them she was probably with somebody, but he didn't know who.
II. THE FIRST CHAKRA
MANIPURA THE SOLAR PLEXUS
The Solar Plexus in the center of the body brin
gs forth the crude energy of life's beginning. Perhaps, you the disciple on the road to higher learning, have used the term 'gut feeling'. This is but the low animalistic beginning of self awareness. As the umbilical closed to contain your essence and begin your life, so shall be the gateway for the disciple to enter at the door. When that which once was, is remembered, then the new body to the next plane shall be born.
THE DOCTRINE OF THE CHAKRA CENTERS by Tawadin Djwahan
CHAPTER 9
“Now the main thing is to enjoy being close to her.” Billy leaned back in his chair and explained to John. “Let yourself feel like a magnet; you're being drawn to her, and she to you. Most important, be patient. As you're holding her continue to kiss her, ever so gently. Cherish her, feel your desire mingle with hers. Forget yourself and let her know she is all that is important. If she wants you to stop she will let you know. Now, hopefully, you will feel her nipples become erect—and by this time, so will you.”
Billy leaned further back in his chair, paused and watched John's expression for a moment. He still wasn't sure about this man, but as he sat explaining it he felt himself becoming aroused. Surely this wasn't queer, he thought to himself, although it had an unusual feeling about it. He shook the thought away. This man had been sincere when he had explained he was a virgin.
“Now picture this girl you will see tomorrow in your mind,” Billy, said noticing by the bulge in John's pants that he, like himself, was aroused.
Sweat began to bead on Billy's forehead. He felt he should stop because of the unnatural feeling of the situation, but he continued.
“Billy,” John interrupted, “I really do feel desire for her. I can picture her in my mind. I--I don't know what's happening. I feel strange.”
Billy felt it too: as if he were ready to climax, and he hadn't even touched himself. Yet he was on the brink. His own body began to shudder. Billy's mind flashed back to the first time he had ever jacked himself off. That first climax had cramped the muscles in his stomach, and he thought he was going to die. It had hurt so bad it scared him, but yet through the pain, there was a small amount of hidden pleasure. But it had been the pain he felt the most, and it had kept him from masturbating for quite a while.
Billy groaned out loud, and saw John was having a similar experience. His body began to tremble and the pain in his stomach was starting to increase.
John felt as if his stomach was going to drop out. Was this what an orgasm felt like? He felt himself doubling over in pain. Around his navel he felt the muscles began to ebb and tide in contractions, and then suddenly felt himself climaxing. He screamed out in agony. He felt a stab of pain pierce his gut. He gasped for breath.
John closed his eyes and then opened them. Through the pain, he saw Billy responding to pain. His mind flashed: maybe they had been poisoned. But yet he felt the sticky emission being shot out into his underwear.
The room began to fade, and John felt a pulsation in his umbilical region. Like the orgasm, it was a constant ebb and tide, throbbing, and then he was in blackness.
He felt as if his entrails were spilling out into a vast nothingness. As his body took hold of his mind John felt himself falling. He had no visual perception, yet he was at the edge of an abyss. A great nothingness before him. He felt as if his abdomen were being ripped away from him and cast into the void. Then the throbbing ceased, being replaced by a vacant desire that he could not comprehend. A ravenous hunger. Agony tore at his stomach; his lungs burst into flames. His entire lower body from his rib cage to his groin was ripped away and was being expelled downward. An automatic mechanism took control and the emptiness which he lost, he now craved to fill. He had to replace the vacuum. He began to breathe in, as if his mouth was eating the very substance of life. He felt his mouth consuming everything possible.
A fibroblastic fire engulfed his lungs. His oral intake became greater than his capacity to contain it and he suddenly regurgitated all he had consumed. At the expulsion he once again felt the need to intake; slowly he repeated this process, and the burning eased.
The upper region eased its fire but the lower remained empty and needed to be filled. It was another ache he needed to soothe, a great hunger. Again he sought to satisfy the void and he did satisfy it.
He felt like both the mother and child, the creator and the created; but the strangest was, he was the destroyer and the destroyed.
As John's vision began to return he felt the drips of blood where he had bit his inner lip and jaw. He had literally sucked the blood of life from his own flesh. His mind revolted. He became nauseous. Looking down at his body, he felt as if he had eaten of his own self.
He felt the drops of semen on his belly beneath his pants, and was awed at the life that lay destroyed there; that semen would never serve its purpose. An image of standing on a cliff came to his mind. He was standing there throwing body parts over, piece by piece. As if his very life energy was being cast away to be lost for all of eternity.
“That which lay withered and dying would not create.” He suddenly heard the words in his head.
“The greatest of creations is life, and when man's seed falls on an empty womb, like the seed thrown on barren soil, is the beginning of the end of creation.”
John looked up at Billy, who was sitting watching him.
Billy sat there, staring blankly, and did not speak. Billy felt as if he had been sleeping all of his life and had suddenly woke up. He now had an awareness greater than John's; now he knew who John was. He had seen what was taking place within John, and the knowledge Billy had was a vague foreboding of what was to come.
CHAPTER 10
The Reverend Thomas Lamb had been kneeling on the wooden floor of the cheap hotel. At midnight his words began as he prayed aloud and he immediately felt joined to some force. It was exhilarating, yet frightening as well. As he doggedly repeated his prayers, bizarre images and sensations kept invading his thoughts. His mind was being pulled away into a strange place. He fell into a dream in which, as though through another's eyes and mind, he witnessed the opening of the umbilical center.
As he regained consciousness and control of his body, he trembled in fear. He felt as if the Anti-Christ had touched his very soul, had pulled him into the ghastly ordeal.
When he had returned fully to his own body, he tried to continue the prayer.
“Our Father,” he began, feeling images flash through his mind. His thoughts were traveling the micro-connectors of his brain at the speed of light: a light which seemed to burst forth, illuminating his mind.
“Our Father?” his mind asked. That which was the genetic codes that brought him here. All of his forefathers' and mothers' minds seemed to open and align him with an awareness of who they were. All was passed forward through the crudeness of the human flesh. Each ancestor's physical remnant was like a garment which had been used and discarded, bringing forth the seed that brought him to where he was.
Thomas felt weak in his struggle to continue his prayer.
“Who art in heaven,” he barely whispered. Suddenly, as if a great command had been spoken, he wondered where “heaven” was. Had not Christ come from heaven, lived, died and returned to heaven? Then where was this kingdom that had many rooms? For it was true; if it were not, Christ would not have said it. But what is this room of which he spoke? He pondered this, as he slumped over in the hotel. A room with peeling walls, greased with the smoke and grime of previous tenants. His head fell onto the mattress stained with countless carnal odors. The stench of the sins of humans burned into his brain. He knew this room kept him separate from the other lives of those in the city. This room felt vile and putrid, much like the earth itself.
He struggled to continue his prayer. “Hallowed be thy name.”
He fell into unconsciousness again when his mind asked what is God's name?
CHAPTER 11
In the lower West Village, Jamal glanced at his watch as the pain he had felt eased.
He had been standing on the stairca
se when the pain hit him. It had doubled him over and he had felt his stomach to see if he had been shot. When he came to he was collapsed on the stairs.
“Damn!” he cursed. The Messiah was here in New York. He felt him. He also felt someone with him, someone, whose name was Billy. He thought quietly for several minutes, trying to regain his own sanity. He had been touched by whatever had happened, and he had seen something he didn't understand.
He knew the other person's name, the name “Billy,” but he did not know who the Messiah was. He knew this Billy was with the Messiah.
What had the vision been? And why had they experienced so much pain--as if he had exploded into pieces and was floating away?
Jamal struggled to stand and had managed to gain his equilibrium just as Azid returned.
“Jamal, we can't find her. Jamal–what's wrong with you?” He shouted the alarm, rushing to help Jamal and led him back up to the apartment.
“I'm okay now.” Jamal protested but accepted his friend's assistance. “I've seen him, Azid. I've seen the Messiah.”
“Where is he?”
“He's here in New York. But I was wrong, dead wrong.” Jamal shook his head. “He's not black, I can tell by what just happened to me. I can sense him. He's not black.”
“What are you saying? He was supposed to be black?” Azid asked as he helped Jamal into a kitchen chair.
“I don't know, but I think we're going to have to kill him.” Jamal paused and looked at his friend. “Azid, go call off the hunt for the white girl.”