Halvah or Daniel Beloved of God

Daniel, Beloved of God Part Four

“Let me go! “ The girl screamed, swinging a guitar case into the chest of her captor.  The blow did nothing.  He twisted the case from her hand and threw it to the ground. 

“Now come on, honey bunches, be good to your man.” 

The girl reached into her coat and withdrew a crucifix.  “Holy Mary, Mother of God!” she began, holding the crucifix in his face, “Pray for us sinners now and at the moment of our death.”  

The man’s eyes widened.  What was his pet dangling in front of his face?  Then recognizing the symbol, he threw his head back and began to roar with laughter.  By now the other two girls had joined in the melee, bombarding the behemoth with guitar cases and bags of clothes, only adding to his merriment. To a man of his size, they were nothing more than a trio of puppies yapping, nipping and spinning in frenzied circles.  When they failed amuse, he knew he could easily smack them against a brick wall or kick them angrily to the gutter but he had time to play with them, or so he thought.  The laughter had shaken loose phlegm trapped in his lungs.  He began to choke.  Then hack.  The hacking increased in intensity until he had no choice but to release the girl.  She stood motionless, glaring at the evil her priest had warned her about, a demon up from the pits of Hell who could be dispensed to the nether regions by symbols of Christianity.

“A crucifix isn’t going to save you, Catholic!” Daniel snarled, pulling the girl away, “It just distracted him for a minute.”

 “I’m not a Catholic!”

 “If you’re not a Catholic then why are you waving a bloody crucifix around?” 

 “Her mother’s a Catholic.” Venus of the Sewers explained.  “She’s what they call a “charismatic” and does the laying on of hands and talking in tongues and all that stuff. ”  

 “I’m not a Catholic!” 

“Ok, ok – you’re not a Catholic. Now kindly get a move on it before Goliath catches his breath.”

Quickly they grabbed their bundles and shuffled off down the street, glancing back every now and then to make sure they weren’t being followed.  Finally they reached a neighborhood that had not been completely abandoned. Here and there were pockets of light; storefronts that were only gated for the night and not boarded up forever, apartments appeared to be occupied on the upper floors and every now and then a car rolled past.  

As they neared Marcia’s block he heard the Krishnas.   Well, at least they haven’t moved, he thought.   Rounding the corner they saw a cloud of light, spilling from one of the storefronts into the misty street.  Into and out of the cloud, shadows fluttered like moths.  As they drew closer, the shadows were recognizable as men, women and even children, dressed in white robes chanting Hari Krishna, Hari Krishna, Krishna Venu, Hari Krishna as they rattled forearms and ankles heavily bejeweled with silver and gold bangles. 

“What is this place?”  The girls asked.

“The International Society for Krishna Consciousness.  Marcia lives in a carriage house in the back.  Just follow me closely.  Don’t look them in the eye and don’t say anything to them.”

“Why?”

“Just don’t look them in the eye. You might never get away if you do.”  

They laughed.  He was kidding, wasn’t he?  Ha, ha.  No, he replied. 

Inside the institute the light was blinding, especially having come in from the dark streets.  Dozens upon dozens of chanters spun mindlessly into each other,  so absorbed in the coming rapture that they paid little attention to the four strangers huddled together in their midst.  Men sat on the floor slapping drums and rattling tambourines as the stench of burnt cooking oil and sandalwood incense filled the air.  Hare Krishna, Hare Krishna, Krishna Vishnu, Hare, Hare — chanted again and again until eyes glazed over. Daniel herded the girls down a long hall where god-stoned people drifted into and out of candle-lit rooms with no more awareness than billiard balls on a pool table.