by J.R. Bowles
The Seventh Chakra
By J. R. Bowles
Copyright by John Bowles
Dedication
I want to thank Lynda, my beautiful wife of 42 years for loving me, her patience and her help then and now with this book. Also my daughters, Ginny and Laurie, for their suggestions.
I. THE GATHERING
"Within the later part of the twentieth century the energies of the universe shall align, apexing upon a point of tension. There shall be One born in the mountains of an industrialized nation who shall choose to lead mankind into the next era or return to the "Him" of which little is spoken. The awareness of the One born shall be directed by the lesser energies which are known as chakra....
Truth, like life, is constant but yet is it also in flux. Like the ocean's floor, one cannot see clearly through distorted water. One must be able to swim close enough to perceive its reality and then this parable, like those before it, will be understood. Only then can the Universal Plan be grasped."
THE DOCTRINE OF THE CHAKRA CENTERS by Tawadin Djwahan
CHAPTER 1
The sun burned down on Jackie's face as the Coast Guard Ferry docked in the South Ferry terminal. The ferry men opened the gates in slow duty fashion, allowing the blink-eyed zombies to stumble off and enter the Big Rotten Apple. Jackie clutched her purse to her body and headed to the red line subway. It was the number one or nine local uptown and that was what most people called it, but she didn't give it a name-just a color. She had learned it from the map. Red, blue, green, those were the ones she used to go into Manhattan; those were the only ones she needed. As she walked up the street, passing the burnt-out terminal where people waited to catch the boat to Staten Island, she lowered her head. She always stared down at the ground to avoid seeing the homeless people and beggars. She had difficulty telling them no, so she just looked away, hoping they wouldn't beg her for money. Money she didn't have. She didn't feel good about being like that, but with the little money she earned she just didn't have any to spare.
She dropped her token and descended to wait for her train. She hoped the ride uptown wouldn't be as upsetting as it had sometimes been in the past. The day riders of the subway weren't too scary, but lord have mercy on your soul if you ever rode it at night. When the train clattered into the station, she found a seat, eying it for gum, and sat down. As she sat nervously glancing around, she recalled the time one man had stumbled into the train. She shuddered as his image flashed in her mind. He had been covered with sores and had got down on his knees in the middle of the car.
“Please help me. I haven't eaten in four days,” he had cried. “I know I've done wrong. I know, I've got AIDS and my family won't have anything to do with me. Nobody will hire me.” He then burst into pathetic sobs. When the train had stopped, she got off ahead of her usual stop and handed him a dollar. She had waited on the platform until the next train came to resume her ride. A small price for peace of mind ….
Fortunately, today things were much more pleasant and she was relieved the ride was uneventful. She always caught herself thinking, each time she came to this teeming hive of humanity; that anything at all would happen to her here. Jackie got off the train at 42nd Street, making her way through the musky-smelling station toward the steps to the city above. She rounded the corner to ascend―standing above her was a man urinating downward. Her quick reaction was the only thing that kept her dry.
It was no wonder much of New York always smelled of garbage and urine. Public restrooms were a rarity and the ones they did have were neither clean nor safe. Jackie clutched at her bag and squinted as she entered the street. She paused, glancing around at the buildings, trying to get her bearings. Coming up from the ground usually disoriented her.
Bernie stepped off the bus at 42nd and scanned the sea of people. It was amazing to him that they came out in all this heat but of course he was out here too, wasn't he? This wasn't his favorite part of the city, but it was a good central place for starting another day of killing time. The buildings blocked most of the June breeze and he felt a little moist. He sometimes rode the subway, but when it was hot like today, it was usually twice as hot waiting for the trains. He unconsciously patted his pocket to make sure his billfold was safe.
“Damn.” He muttered aloud. He had forgotten to bring his ATM card. He dug down and felt a bill. When he pulled it out he was disappointed; it was only a twenty. Wasn't much in this city, that was for sure but then what plans did he have anyway, other than watching the people? He began walking, dodging the onslaught of the crowd. It seemed they wanted to play chicken: the dumb-ass just walked straight at him as if he were invisible, like they really expected him to move, even little old ladies―and he was far from invisible, at six foot and close to one-eighty. He dodged left and rounded a corner, slamming directly into a young woman.
“Oh god, I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention,” Jackie sputtered a nervous apology. “I didn't see you coming.”
Trying to make light of the situation, Bernie glanced down at his zipper and grinned. “I didn't even know I had a hard-on.”
He watched her jaw drop in shock and embarrassment at his attempt at humor, and realized she didn't find him humorous. All this time hanging around in the city was turning him into a street-wise smart-ass. He quickly stumbled to rectify his big mouth.
“Are you all right? The way you bounced back, I thought I had knocked you down. Really, I'm to blame.” His responses had taken over when they collided and he had reached out to grab her. His hands still held her arms, and he looked down into her eyes with a quick appraisal. He was surprised by the intensity of eyes that stared back.
“I'm fine,” Jackie muttered, trembling a little, trying to regain her composure. “Uh, you can let me loose now, I think I have my balance.” Her quick mind flashed in fear. “Oh no, what have I done. He's probably some kind of murderer or worse.” She tilted her head up and stared directly into his penetrating brown eyes, at a face she wouldn't call handsome but, rather, “ruggedly attractive.”
“Sorry,” he said, and opened his hands, freeing her. He paused, not know what to say for a moment. He wanted to rectify the damage caused by his slippery tongue, but it was suddenly thick. After his major foot-in-mouth, he wondered what she must be thinking of him. He hadn't felt this stupid since he was sixteen, almost fourteen years ago. Besides this woman's feeling and smelling wonderful, he had fallen into her eyes. Eyes that was sad and lonely. They were dark and forlorn, like a storm brewing gray in the evening sunset. Her auburn hair reached to her shoulders, and almost grazed his hands as he held her.
“Excuse me.” Jackie pulled forcefully away and started past him on up the street.
Bernie's usually quick mind searched for something to call her back. “Hope to run into you again.” He groaned aloud and muttered. “How lame can I be? There are a million possible good lines, and all I can think of is a damn pun.” He sighed, watching after her. “There goes the vision of my dreams, and I let her literally slip through my fingers.” He wondered if perhaps he could follow her, but the way she had acted she would probably have the cops on him.
Jackie stared straight ahead and increased her pace. She was dying to turn around and catch another glimpse of him, or at least make sure he wasn't following. She tried to tell herself that was the only reason she wanted to turn around. She could feel his eyes on her, following her. She slightly shook her head; that was ridiculous―but yet she was sure she could feel he was watching. She remembered his eyes, how they seemed to pierce directly to her core. She felt like kicking herself for her awkwardness, her timidity. She had no friends, to speak of, and hadn't had a date in years. She knew by the
way he had smiled that he wanted to say more, but she had been so frightened she hadn't given him time. She just stormed off as usual, always on the offensive. But he had seemed normal, and maybe even handsome, if you like that sort. She smiled to herself, she did like that sort. Finally she shrugged; good looks or not, he was still a stranger. After all, appearances could be deceiving.
Bernie watched her seductive long stride longingly, and realized that when he had awakened this morning, he had felt strange. The day just felt odd. He couldn't quite put his finger on it. It was as if he were traveling at fast forward while everyone around him moved in slow motion. He tried to rationalize that it was only a feeling, but then there just wasn't an explanation for it. He grinned, totally aware of the feeling in his groin caused by his brief closeness to that exciting vision of beauty.
“The white lie is what you, as the black man, have been living with. Jesus wasn't white, he was black.” A strong, vigorous black man in a robe screamed into a bull horn. “You've been brainwashed to the white man's plot to keep you enslaved to him. You got to listen to your own heritage. You can't trust the man. He will keep you down.”
Jamal Mohammed, born Richard Jackson, had been made bitter by the lack of opportunities in his life. He knew he could do better; he was strong and smart, people naturally tended to follow him, to look up to him—but every chance he had to go somewhere, he had been squelched―and it seemed like it was always a white man doing it.
Jamal was here almost every day with his followers, and even his own speeches were beginning to become redundant to him. He swallowed and cleared his throat. As he looked around at the people moving up and down the street, mostly indifferent to him, he saw a white girl glance nervously over at him and his group. She quickly turned her head and scurried across the street to avoid them. He paused and pulled the bullhorn down to his side. There was something strange about her. She had an odd-looking light that seemed to engulf her body. He took one of his massive hands and rubbed his eyes. Turning to one of his followers, he whispered and pointed towards her.
Jamal then pulled up the horn and continued his rhetoric. “The new Messiah is coming. He will be here before you know what's happening.”
Jackie walked up to 45th Street and turned right, heading toward the USO. “The good old USO,” she thought. It had been her lifesaver, her last defense from boredom. She hoped she could get a free ticket to a play, or at least a movie. Being stationed on a Coast Guard Cutter, she hadn't been able to get back to Virginia for almost two years, and she got so lonely. Her job as a Radioman First Class entrusted her with a lot of responsibilities, and she always had to work harder than the men just to prove she was their equal. It just wasn't fair; but life had taught her not to expect fairness. But at least she had the USO. There were only eight women on her ship, and she was the most senior enlisted woman, both in rank and age. Because of the military rank structure, she wasn't allowed to date the guys she knew, though there were several that caught her attention. But she couldn't; that was called fraternization and if you got caught you could be reduced in rank, fined big bucks, or even kicked out of the Guard altogether. She didn't have any women friends, either, because she was twenty-nine and so the younger women didn't want to hang around with the 'old woman,' and the women officers, again, weren't allowed to socialize because of rank. That too was considered fraternization. So, here she was, downtown again, alone. At least there was always the USO.
Jackie entered the building and headed for the elevator which would take her up three flights to the USO. She pushed the call button and glanced around at the narrow vestibule. Although, the space was old it had been built in an era when brass was in its prime. The floor was marble and brass covered the walls. She grinned at the brass; she was sure familiar with it. The Coast Guard liked brass and it was forever, having to be polished. As she looked at the walls she could appreciate the amount of work it took to keep it shining.
The elevator hummed in response to her call and she waited patiently. Suddenly the outside door opened and three black men entered. At first she just glanced at them and didn't think anything of it. But slowly she began to feel uncomfortable as they stood there watching her. Their hair was definitely not a military cut, and they were wearing shirts similar to that of the man she had seen preaching from the bullhorn.
Uneasiness settled in on her and she thought, “I better not get on the elevator with them.” She decided to act like she had forgotten something, and so mumbling to herself while fiddling with her purse, she walked towards the door.
As she started to pass them, one of the men reached out and grabbed her arm.
“Here, take my purse.” She thrust it at him.
“No baby. We want you.” His voice was thick and deep.
He pulled her towards him so fast she didn't have time to say anything else. She felt herself beginning to panic. He swung her around so she was turned with her back to him, holding her arms at the shoulders. He cupped his hand over her mouth and slid the other around her arms and chest, pinning her to his body. One of the other men uncapped a syringe and grabbed her forearm, injecting a clear fluid.
Jackie struggled and tried to stomp his foot, but he had anticipated her move and was standing with his feet spread. As the needle pricked her skin, her last thought was not about her virtue, it was about her life. She gave a muffled cry before she went unconscious.
Bernie had followed the auburn-haired girl and watched as she entered the building. He knew she would probably call the cops on him, but he felt he just had to meet her. No matter the cost. As she went into the building he watched from across the street.
He wondered why she would be going in there. It didn't look like an apartment house. He looked up the face of the building and saw a banner with the letters USO printed boldly. Didn't USO have something to do with the military? She didn't look like she was in the military, did she? He thought all those women looked like diesel dykes. Was it possible?
Bernie had walked casually further down the street when a white van pulled up outside the building. Three black men got out and strolled into the building behind the girl. He couldn't help but think it seemed strange. They were double parked, which wasn't unusual in New York, but they had left the van running unattended, for anyone to steal. He crossed over and moved near the van, peering into the glass front of the building. He hadn't been there more than a second when the three men rushed out; carrying the girl he had been following.
“Hey! What's going on there?” Bernie challenged them, rushing forward.
One of the men turned coolly towards him and reached behind, pulling out a small handgun. The man didn't flicker an eye, as Bernie heard him pull back the hammer. When it clicked, he instinctively dropped to the sidewalk and rolled.
The man never fired the shot. He climbed into the van where they had loaded the girl and it sped away.
