Save Johanna! (21 page)

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 to 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.

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!”

In terrible agitation, each one began to shake her head, protesting, but with a raised hand he silenced them and continued, “It will be a countdown, starting at ten and going to one. The word after one is what we move on.”

All three stared at him, waiting.

“Ten!” he said; the sound was low but cut from steel. A pause, and then he continued speaking very quickly in a whisper to all. But his eyes fixed on Swat.

“Start mobilizing your bodies. Tense them. Move in close together. I want a solid mass.”

They drew close and he watched them, and when he was satisfied he spoke again.

“Nine!” Again in that urgent whisper, still directing himself to Swat. “Harden your muscles. Tighten the skin around them and aim your bodies forward.

“Eight!”

Now he turned and nailed his eyes on Pinky who reeled slightly at his words. “They’re going to be sleeping. Both of them soundly sleeping in their bed.”

And then to Imogene, “Seven!”

And over to Swat and back to Imogene again, “We’re a sharpened wedge of power and we’re pointed at those doors and we’re going to crash them open and rush in!

“Six!

“And with all our might we’re going to send our bodies flying across the room and dive onto them!

“Five!

“And hold them down and bury their bodies into the bed with our hands and our knees and smother their heads with their pillows and they will be so stunned by the suddenness of our attack that for the first moment they won’t resist.

“Four!

“And in that instant of our advantage,” he said, making each word stand alone, “we shall strike!”

And as he spoke, Swat’s body stiffened, pounding under the restraint, and Imogene’s, too, her normal lethargy transformed into a passion that made her quake with excitement. Only Pinky’s breath came at normal speed. Like an automaton she would respond.

Sweat glazed Avrum’s face to a high shine. His whole body was charged with an energy that fused his muscles and made them swell and strain against the thinness of his T-shirt, and the hardness of his erection pressed his jeans to near bursting. The panting sounds that rushed from his chest forced gusts of air into his whisper, giving it a staccato beat that set the rhythm of their passion and brought Swat and Imogene to the threshold of orgasm.