by J.R. Bowles
CHAPTER 8
At 11:30 P.M., Jamal entered the severely neglected building on Lafayette. He went immediately to the third floor. He was followed by two of his men. Although Jamal would be thirty years old in a week his movement was graceful and vibrant, like a youth full of force and determination. He had been standing and preaching most of the day, but barely felt any fatigue. His preaching was one of the few ways they earned their money. Occasionally they dealt in stolen goods but they stayed away from drugs. Jamal felt drugs was just another way the white man kept the black man down, and he refused to have them around―except those needed to do their work. Like the tranquilizer his men had used on the girl.
“How's the woman?” he asked as he entered the sparsely furnished apartment.
The man sitting in a worn chair looked up from the TV. “Everything's just as you ordered. She's tied up, naked and gagged. I don't see what you want with no white woman, though.”
“Listen, Azid, I don't have to explain anything to you, but I will. If just to help justify it to myself.” Jamal sat down in the kitchen chair. “When I saw her, I saw this light around her and it was like I heard a voice, but it wasn't quite a voice. It said, ‘She's one!’ I don't know what was meant by ‘she's one’ but I do know she's somehow connected to the coming of the Messiah. But when I looked at her I saw this kind of purple and yellow glow around her.”
Jamal stood up and headed for the bathroom. He turned to the other man. “Azid, I want you to call my disciples and tell them to get here before midnight. We're going to have an awakening ceremony.”
Azid rose from the chair, shaking his head in confusion. This just wasn't like Jamal. Azid's name had been William Thorton but when Jamal had taken him into the family they had renamed him Azid. He liked Azid better. It made him fit in. When he had been a boy growing up in the projects he had always been kidded because his mother had called him Willie. Most of his friends had exotic African names, but his had been plain. When he had the opportunity to join the family he jumped at the chance and they had given him the name of Azid. It meant he “who listens.” Although Azid was only twenty-two, he had always hated the white man, the Man, as he called them. He blamed them for the poverty and problems his poor mother had put up with. She had a pathetic job and struggled to make ends meet; although, he was proud of her for being able to endure. He also blamed his father for leaving his mother pregnant when she was only fourteen and taking off.
“Why we going to do an awakening on a whitey, man?”
Jamal's chiseled jaw tightened as he spoke. “Just do what I tell you. And tell them they had better be here in time.”
Azid rose and left the room to call the rest of the family. There were thirteen in all, and five of them were already here.
Jamal went to the room where the woman was. He opened the door and saw her tighten her eyelids. He gave a brief smile. How could he have been so wrong, he asked himself. He had come to believe the Messiah would be black, and there wouldn't be any whites involved, but somehow he knew this woman was a key. He just wasn't sure how. He knew she was afraid, and for some reason, he could tell she was oblivious to her own involvement in the coming of the Messiah. He could feel a power emanating from her. It was a power she wasn't aware of yet. If she knew about it, he doubted they would be able to hold her here. He stared at the bed and noted it was dry. He knew his men hadn't let her up to relieve herself. She was strong. She held her urine even though she had been here for hours. Although, she feigned sleep, he could sense her uncomfortable struggle to control her body, to retain her water.
“Soon.” Jamal barely whispered as he jerked on her restrains. He smiled when she didn't move. She had a strong reserve. He ran his hand down her belly and touched her pubic hair. She remained still, with her eyes closed.
Jamal took one more glance at her before he left the room. He just didn't know what to think. He felt confused. There should be no whites involved.
As Jackie heard the door close, she let out her breath. She knew he was gone; even before she opened her eyes she could sense he was no longer in the room. Her eyes flew open and again she began to struggle futilely against her bonds. What had he meant by “soon,” she thought. Images of rape and slow torturous death raced through her mind. The lingering feel of his touch against her made her belly convulse. She had to fight back the nausea. She swallowed to keep the bile down.
As she lay there she saw a movement outside the window. A fleeting shadow. At first she thought it was a distortion of light from some headlight as she tried to blink away her tears. As her vision cleared she could see the image of a white man staring in. Could he be part of these guys that kidnapped her, she thought.
Jackie watched him as he put his index finger to his lips, indicating that he wanted her to remain quiet. She had a feeling she knew him, but the pale light through the window clouded his image with dark shadows, making his face almost sardonic. More fear rose in her. In a day where her fear had constantly ebbed and flowed, she hadn't thought she could become more frightened, but she had been wrong.
The man kept waving his hands. She realized he was trying to convey to her to remain quiet. His gestures were vague and unreadable, yet she had a sense that his thoughts or emotions were being relayed to her.
Bernie peered in at Jackie's naked, outstretched body. Although he knew he had precious little time, he couldn't help but absorb her raw beauty. He had followed the preacher man on the subway here to the lower West Village.
Bernie had waited downstairs for over thirty minutes, trying to figure out how to find out if the girl was in the building they entered. Finally, he entered the vacant building next door, by passing through a half-boarded-over window. It was evident the building was often used by vagrants or crack-heads. Slowly he had managed to move through the darkness of the house, which was barely lit by the street lights.
He found the steps and worked his way upward. On the second level he went into one of the rooms which faced the building where the kidnappers were. The buildings were not far apart, and he looked up to the next floor where he could see the glare of a dangling light.
On the third floor he located a room across from the one in which he had seen the light. The buildings were approximately four feet apart. From that window he saw the outline of the girl tied naked to an old poster bed. The space between the two buildings was close enough to jump, but the ledge wasn't wide enough for him to land on. He had searched several rooms trying to find a board to use as a bridge. He finally located a discarded cupboard and as quietly as possible, moved it to bridge the gap.
He had started across his makeshift bridge when a man had entered her room; and he quickly backed back into the building. When the man left, he started across, and got the woman's attention in hopes she wouldn't cry out.
Bernie felt fortunate the window was opened a crack. Most of these old buildings were not air-conditioned and eventually the tenant would open the windows―even when they had to break through several layers of paint.
“Shh! don't talk.” Bernie barely whispered. He moved quietly untying her. Although she was naked, he had too much adrenaline fear pumping to pay it any meager attention. He scanned the room for her clothes but found no evidence of them. Cupping his hand toward him, he indicated for her to follow.
Bernie crossed the bridge first to show her how to creep across it.
“Here, put this on. “ Bernie handed Jackie his shirt and helped her into the room. “It won't cover much but it'll help. We've got to move fast before they discover you're gone.”
Jackie inhaled deeply, stretching her sore limbs and rubbing her ankles and wrists.
“Uh, go in there for a second, I need to be alone,” she said to the strange man.
“We've got to get out of here!” Bernie protested in a whisper.
“I've got to pee!” She groaned as she gritted her teeth.
“Oh.” Bernie responded a
nd left her in the room.
After several minutes which seemed like an eternity, Jackie came into the dark hallway.
“Okay, I'm ready.” Jackie said looking around the dark hall for the man.
“Over here.” Bernie called and waved his arms around so she would see the motion. “We're going down some rickety steps, so hold on to my shoulder.”
“Okay.” Jackie answered, placing her warm hand on Bernie's bare shoulder. He hadn't worn a tee shirt and the feel of his skin surprised her.
They managed to work their way down to the window where Bernie had entered.
“We've got to get out of here and hide until we can figure out what to do now.” Bernie said, helping her out.
Jackie breathed a sigh of relief as she felt the night air against her. She didn't care if she was almost totally naked; it felt great to be free. But the man was right―they had to get away.
Bernie led the way, running down the street with Jackie following barefoot close behind. His shirt tail barely reached her thigh.
When they were a block away Bernie quit running and turned to her. Jackie became apprehensive and came to a dead stop several feet away.
“You can't exactly travel very far like that.” Bernie said. “There are not many people out on the street in this area, but the ones that are out we don't need to run into. Let's go a couple of blocks over and see if we can find a place to hide you. I'll see if I can find you a little more to wear.”
The street light glare bounced brazen images as she nodded in agreement.
They traveled a couple of blocks and then made a left. Bernie stopped and pointed at a set of stairs which led down toward someone's basement.
“Down there.” He pointed and led the way down the concrete steps back into darkness.
They spent several minutes catching their breath.
“I'm going now and try to find you some clothes. Wait here.”
“Wait,” Jackie began, “I just wanted to….”
“We can talk soon as we get out of this area. Soon as they find you gone they're going to be out on the street hunting you. Right now I'm going to find something else for you to wear, so we can get on a subway and get the hell out of here.”
Jackie watched the man's silhouette as he bounded up the stairs. She couldn't figure it out, but he seemed familiar, even though she hadn't got a good look at his face yet.
Who was this man? She didn't know who, but she felt thankful, although she quickly told herself she could be moving from one group of crazies to another. She quickly dismissed the thought. After all he had risked himself to help her and she didn't even know him—or, did she? Feeling a shiver in spite of the warm night air, she thought, at this point what other alternatives did she have?
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. It was 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 are 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?
