But he sliced the air with his hand and cut her short. “Say nothing more until I tell you. From now on I am your sound. Do you feel that?”
Both women nodded their heads but didn’t speak.
Very calmly now and slowly Avrum gave them their instructions. Only his door was to be opened. They would all get out that way. They would follow him to the bottom of Pinky’s driveway, walking in single file with Swat last. At the driveway he would give them further instructions. Avrum took a small black capsule from the glove compartment and flipped it far back into his mouth. He swallowed it and took another. The women took nothing.
Quickly, with barely a sound, Avrum opened his door and stepped out. Swat’s heart was pounding as she waited for Imogene to slip over the back of the seat and slide out the door. Now it was her turn, and she moved across the seat, the plastic whining against her pants, and then she too was out the door. Avrum closed it behind her. There was a soft click and then silence again.
Avrum led the way, their black clothes blending into the darkness and their footsteps almost soundless on the soft earth. They walked close to the side, and when the road turned Swat watched Avrum and then Imogene disappear around the bend.
Alone for an instant, out of Avrum’s aura, a thought caught her in midstep. There could be a choice. But then her foot came down, carrying her forward, and there was no choice. Maybe not ever again after tonight.
The three arrived at the foot of the driveway. It had a gentle slope that rose and climbed and turned half circle in front of Pinky’s house. One dim hall light was burning just inside the front door. From the road they could barely make out the contours of the house. Luscious bougain-villea hid all but the top of the slate roof and the four white chimneys. From the look of the roof peaks, the house rambled on and probably ended in an interior courtyard. It was huge, the size of a mansion, but all on one floor.
Along the road, about ten feet past the driveway, was a telephone pole with steel rungs jutting out from it every three feet. Avrum put on the heavy gloves that were clipped to his belt and leaped up onto the first rung and with great agility made his way up to the top. Once there, he seemed to know exactly what he was about. Sliding the wire clippers from his back pocket, he chose a thick double strand from a dozen such wires and snipped it. Then he slipped the cutters back into his pocket and climbed down the pole, jumping the last eight feet cat-quiet.
Once on the ground, he led the others to the wrought-iron gate at the entrance to the driveway and told them to wait outside until he called them. Quietly he pushed the unlocked gate open just slightly and slipped through.
Outside the gate, Imogene poked her head around the shrubbery. Pinky was nowhere in sight. She could see Avrum leaning against the inside of the stone wall that held the gates. She watched him. He didn’t seem concerned that Pinky wasn’t there or that maybe she wasn’t coming.
Suppose she had changed her mind? After all, it was weeks since Avrum had been with her. Maybe his power had been sapped away by the deprogrammers her parents had hired. But Avrum didn’t look worried, so she wasn’t going to either. When Avrum was with her, nothing frightened her or touched her or even mattered much. She was safe, and her mind was free to fly. Even now, untouched by the enormity of the plans, she peeked around the bushes like a child in a hide-and-go-seek game.
Smiling, Imogene watched Avrum, delighting in the way his muscles rippled under his tight shirt. His stomach was perfectly flat, and as he leaned back against the wall his hips jutted slightly forward, tantalizing her, and she giggled softly, absorbed in some delicious fantasy of her fingers tickling down the sides of his body, weaving under his shirt, and running down over the hard belly. Then suddenly, from behind her, other hands dug pain deep into her shoulders and yanked her backwards. She yelped a soft ooh that was smothered by a sweaty palm over her mouth. Now the hand on her shoulder whipped her around, and the fury of Swat was upon her. In terror, with her back pressed in against the bushes and the sharp twigs sticking into her spine and her lower legs, Imogene stood rigid with Swat’s face not two inches from hers, her foul odor assaulting her at every breath.
“Quiet, you fool,” Swat spat at her.
Inside the gate Avrum waited. It was 2:57. Pinky wasn’t late. She still had three minutes to go. As he had done hundreds of times in the past few weeks, Avrum let his mind work over the details of his plan, easy things like the lights, the cars, the door that should be unlocked, and then the most important thing, the logistics of keeping the people inside where he wanted them. Swat would help handle that. She was strong, smart, and could be counted on to respond instantly to any order he gave.
The boldness of the plan—his plan—mixed with the anticipation and the growing effects of the amphetamine was beginning to charge his brain to racing speed, but the only sign of this inner fury was the shine of his red-black eyes.
It was 2:59. Though Pinky was nowhere in sight, she was there, nonetheless. But well hidden. Directly behind Avrum there was a small rock garden with a child-sized, white cement bench in one corner and tucked neatly under the bench and curled to a third her petite size was Pinky, watching him motionlessly. Not with the sexual hunger of Imogene or the frustrated longings of Swat. Pinky stared with a mixture of fear and fascination. Such strong fear that even though she knew he was waiting and would be angry, still she couldn’t move. Nor would she allow herself to imagine his purpose or what her part would be in it.
It was 3:07, and her legs and back were beginning to ache from the cramped position.
At the same time, outside the gate, Swat had loosened her grip on the terrified Imogene. Still, neither spoke as they stood together, Imogene facing the road and Swat watching Avrum through the bushes. Imogene tried not to stare at the face in front of her, but her eyes kept sneaking back, and even in the dim light she was close enough to make out the tough leather texture of Swat’s skin, the large pores around her fleshy nose, the blackheads on her cheeks, and the raised lumps of boils that made her chin appear misshapen. Everything on Swat’s face was oversized and gross except her lips, which were thin and dry and turned down at the corners. No wonder Swat was always so mean and angry; people didn’t like you if you were ugly like that, and the best thing you could do was to hate them first. Swat hated everyone first. Except Avrum. Even now as Swat watched him, her eyes softened, and some of the sharpness and bitterness left her face. Imogene stared at her eyes until Swat, sensing it, gave her a quick warning look, and Imogene lowered her head instantly and was afraid to look up again.
It was 3:10, and Avrum stood up straight, perfectly still, holding his breath. His eyes narrowed for greater concentration. He’d heard something move. Something in the vicinity of the rock garden. He walked slowly in that direction.
Pinky saw him coming toward her and knew she didn’t want it to happen. She wanted him to go away. Desperately. With her eyes squeezed tightly shut she prayed he wouldn’t find her. He was very close now and then he seemed to step away, and she allowed herself a small, shallow sigh of relief, and he stopped.
And came back. A little moan escaped her lips, and she felt him bending down and then he was looking at her, and she winced, waiting for him to drag her out. She knew his violence. It had happened in the very beginning; his rage had been so powerful and the blows had left her cheek stinging for hours. Worse, the shame and remorse he’d made her feel for not believing in him stayed with her for weeks. Even now she was ashamed at what she was doing. She waited, tense, rigid. Seconds flew past, and then she felt his hand, gentle and caressing, petting her and all the while easing her out from under the bench. She let herself be moved toward him, and he gathered her up in his arms and held her close to him, and she wondered how she could have ever been afraid of him, her dearest friend, her greatest ally, her love.
Now he stood and raised her up with him; her arms were still closed tightly across her chest and her head was wedged under his chin. He held her until he felt her body soften, and then he
moved her face away slightly so that he could see her face, and his lips formed the words, “It’s all right,” and his eyes looked into hers for a long moment, and then he took her by the hand and led her back to the driveway.
Swat saw them coming, saw Avrum wave to her, and with a quick shove set Imogene moving in their direction. If Pinky was surprised to see the other two women, she didn’t show it. Her eyes were on Avrum, waiting for some word from him, but instead he merely pointed his chin ahead, up the driveway, and gently moved her forward ahead of him.
Pinky led the way with Avrum behind her, then Imogene, and, as planned, Swat last. The gravel in the driveway was mixed with tar and gave no sound as they quietly made their way up toward the house.
The first parked car they came to was a white Mercedes. Avrum grabbed the back of Pinky’s blouse. She turned, and he hushed her before she could speak.
“The key,” he whispered, and she dug into her jeans pocket and came up with a ring of four keys. She pulled out the biggest one and gave it to Avrum.
He unlocked the front door of the car, opened it, reached in quickly, and pulled something under the dashboard. The car light was on for barely an instant.
By now Swat was at the front of the car; she quickly lifted the hood and with small clippers snipped three wires and carefully lowered the hood, not closing it completely.
Then, again with Pinky in the lead, they moved up to the next car, a small blue Porsche. This time the window was open on the driver’s side, and Avrum had only to reach in to unlock the hood. Swat lifted it and snipped the wires.
“What about the Rolls?” Avrum whispered to Pinky, and she pointed to the closed garage. He nodded and felt around in the deep front pockets of his jeans, finally coming up with a small lead rod which he carefully inserted in a garage lock. The rod would jam the electrical mechanism on the lock, and it would be impossible to open the door, even manually. He allowed himself some quiet pleasure at his good planning.
Pinky led them to a small clearing on the side of the house. It was out of the way and surrounded by large, full rhododendron bushes. Avrum motioned for the three to come close. They did, and he lifted the knapsack off Imogene’s shoulders and laid it on the ground. The women knelt around him as he opened the flaps. Carefully he eased out a bulky package wrapped in rust-stained toweling and started to unfold it.
As he unwrapped the last corner a shiver rippled through Pinky’s body at the sight of the three huge carving knives. Even Swat, who had known what was inside the towel, gave a small gasp. But Imogene barely looked, more concerned with sliding catlike close enough to Avrum to touch his thigh or rub against his arm. She succeeded as he bent forward to separate the knives.
The largest one was at least eighteen inches long, with a thirteen-inch blade an inch wide honed on both sides to razor sharpness. The one lying next to that was shorter and, where the handle met the blade, was at least two inches wide. Again, both sides were sharpened all down the elongated triangle to its deadly point. The third knife was nearly as long as the first but much thinner, almost delicate, and there was only one slicing side.
Pinky’s stare was fixed on the knives, and a terrible fear gripped her. “Oh, God!” she moaned, and the words seemed to release her bound chest, and a terror rushed through her body and turned to desperation and then instantly to action. She spun around toward Avrum and put both hands on his wrists and wrenched them away from the knives. He allowed her to hold his arms back and turned to her slowly, with great calmness.
He spoke to her, and his voice was soft and low and seemed to come from him, yet be disconnected.
“This is the beginning, Pinky, our birth. And it can only be experienced from your sacrifice. That is the explosion needed to create the movement.”
“I can’t . . . I can’t,” she pleaded, and she hung her head, and tears ran down her face and dropped onto her thighs.
Avrum still spoke, and as he did he put his hand gently under her chin and raised her face so that he could look into her eyes. “From the deepness of my love I have chosen you. Feed me the blood that I may open the world.”
“No. . . .”
“We must banish ego and free your soul to enter mine and together soar.”
And then he took the thinnest knife and with the other hand slipped open the top button of Pinky’s blouse and pushed it back to uncover a small area of her chest above her heart. With the point of the knife and almost no pressure he drew a ragged x on her skin. She made no movement, nor did she take her eyes from him. First the skin rose slightly, outlining the x, then the lines burst red with blood, and he took a smear of that blood with his forefinger and made a one on her forehead and said, “You are my beginning and I am the whole of you. I am your ego and your love.”
And as the blood welled up again on the little x, once more he dipped his forefinger and this time made a small circle on the forehead of Swat and then of Imogene and told them he was their ego and their love and together they would form the nucleus of a new spirit in the world. He had found absolute truth, and it was within him and of him, and they were part of it.
Then Avrum took up the middle knife and handed it to Swat and the thin one to Imogene. He kept the biggest one for himself and, tossing the rust-stained towel under the bushes, motioned them all to rise.
Pinky stood vacant-eyed, with her arms hanging loose at her sides and her blouse still twisted back, exposing the now hardening blood of the x. Her mind was empty, awaiting the new birth. She allowed herself to experience only Avrum’s strength. She felt she had already entered his soul and that there was no one else who would ever be part of her again. Nothing could touch her anymore. Only Avrum. Her life was his.
For Swat, the cool hardness of the steel-handled knife made her loins tense with excitement. She tightened her grip until her nails dug into the palm of her hand. She felt an enormous surge of power harden her body. Armed, Swat had the strength of a man. She knew this would be her moment. Avrum would depend on her the most, and she would be there, coiled and ready to spring with all her force at his word. It would be Avrum and Swat who would carry it off. The others were fools and weak, and she was impatient for him to finish readying them. She wanted to move while the power still throbbed within her. She wanted to move while she was still cresting.
But Avrum took his time with the others. Methodically he spoke to them in an even voice, and his words met no resistance from either Pinky, who seemed catatonic, or Imogene, who listened politely as if he were giving directions to some distant, unknown place—someplace vaguely pleasant, nonetheless.
“Where’s the bedroom door?” Avrum asked Pinky, but she didn’t seem to hear. “The one that’s unlocked, Pinky,” he repeated, and a trace of anxiety emphasized her name, and she answered him quietly, “Around the back.”
David should have been here by now. It’s almost dark—hours since I spoke to Sephra. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he won’t come at all. Why should he rush out here to me when I’ve been so hideous to him and to everyone else?
Oh, God, I’m so miserable. Strung out on a thousand different pills, no food, my stomach hollow and burning, and all of me trembling, racing.
A sudden, frightening thought: if David was at the office Sephra couldn’t have spoken to him. She wouldn’t have known where to call. Oh, God!
I want David here! No matter what it costs, I must have him. And knowing that that decision is the only right one, I pick up my phone and dial his number.
The phone rings and rings and rings, and then he answers.
“David,” is all I can manage to say.
“Johanna, I just got in. Are you all right? Where are you?”
“Didn’t Sephra tell you?”
“I haven’t spoken to her. Johanna, what’s happening?”
“Oh, David, I’m so sorry for everything. Please forgive me. I love you and I need you. Come and get me, please. . . .”
“It’s all right, darling. Don’t be upset. Everything is going t
o be OK now, just tell me where you are, and I’ll come right this minute.”
“I’ve been so horrible to you . . . to everyone.” I love him so desperately and I try to tell him, but my tears turn all my words into sobs.
“Johanna, tell me where you are.”
I pull myself together enough to tell him where I am, and, he says he’s leaving immediately.
“My darling,” he says, “I love you so dearly. You are my life. Wait for me.”
“I will, David, I will.”
And I hang up and stagger back to the computer. Now I have the strength to put all my horrors to rest forever.
David is coming. I will be saved.
Avrum, I will finish you off, you and all my demons, once and for all.
Souls In Darkness (cont.)
The night deepened as a thick cloud passed in front of the moon, and the four frightening black shadows made their way carefully, slowly, along the flagstone footpath that led around the side of the house and followed the twisting curves into the back courtyard.
They were ugly in their evil, the three intruders, butcher knives hanging from their hands. And the fourth, unarmed, but even more lethal in her betrayal.
Pinky stopped in front of the French doors that led to the room where her parents were sleeping. She didn’t speak. She didn’t turn. She simply stood facing the door, her task completed. Now it was their turn.
Avrum moved her to one side. Then he faced the group and spoke, “Swat, you’re over here on my right, Imogene on my left, and Pinky, you’re behind us.” Each moved to her designated spot and waited.
He studied them, these three human beings whom he owned so completely that he controlled their very souls, their love, and their terror. The anticipation of the kill ahead electrified him, and he glared at each of his disciples as if recharging them with his own energy. Then in a harsh whisper he said, “Listen to me. Do not miss one word. This is what we have waited for, our moment of creation. This is my beginning, and if you fail me . . . I am dead forever!”
Save Johanna! Page 22
