The Arms of Kali td-59 Read online

  Ban Sar Din took A. H. Baynes aside. "You're bringing your family into that ashram? Out there?"

  "Yes," said Baynes. "I have searched my heart and I find that I wish to be a part of something meaningful and spiritually rewarding. I want to belong to Kali."

  "They're crazy killers," hissed Ban Sar Din, louder than he wanted to. "That's your family."

  "They're going to kill us, Daddy. They're going to kill us. I don't like it. I want to go to our church," cried the girl.

  "Nobody is going to kill us, dear," said Mrs. Baynes soothingly. "Daddy would not permit it."

  "He said so," said the girl, pointing to the balloon of a man in his white silk suit. Ban Sar Din blushed.

  "Daddy says this is a rewarding faith, dear, and we have to give it a chance," said Mrs. Baynes, and turned to Ban Sar Din to ask if the ashram offered yoga programs, breathing, discussion groups, chanting, and had guest speakers.

  Ban Sar Din did not know what else to do, so he nodded forlornly.

  "See?" Mrs. Baynes told her children. "It's just like our church at home."

  Mrs. Baynes did not mind that there was no minister talking about. Jesus or salvation. There hadn't been much talk about that at her church back home for a long time either. Back home, there was usually some revolutionary leader giving a speech against America and then being invited to one of the homes, where if he hadn't talked about overthrowing America, he would not have been allowed in the neighborhood. It didn't matter to Mrs. Baynes, because she never listened to the sermons anyway. One joined a church to be with the sort of people one wanted to be with. These people did not seem to fit that category, but good old A. H. would never let her and the children join a religion that was not socially acceptable.

  She heard about some man who was supposed to be coming for the goddess, Kali, to be Her lover. Not at all unlike the Second Coming, her other church used to talk about before they got into revolution.

  One thing she liked very much was the way this new church referred to God as She.

  A. H. Baynes knelt in the rear with his family, and they all waved their arms and screamed when the rest of the ashram screamed to kill for the love of Kali.

  "Kill for the love of killing," chanted the people as they bowed before the many-armed statue.

  A. H. nudged his son, who had been silent. "I don't like to yell, Daddy," said the boy.

  "You yell enough at home," whispered A. H.

  "That's different."

  "You can yell here," Baynes said.

  "I don't know the words."

  "Move your lips," Baynes said.

  "Who do they want to kill?"

  "Bad people. Yell."

  A. H. Baynes let his mind wander pleasantly as the chants began to roll: kill for the love of killing, kill for the love of Kali. This was a resource driven by a power he had never experienced before. In the rear of the ashram, he felt as if he had just discovered atomic energy.

  There was one problem that he could see. If this group kept growing, there would be an ever-growing need for travelers to kill. And that many killings might not just kill travelers; it might kill travel itself.

  No more communications, no more commerce. Professors unable to travel, students unwilling. Civilization might well return to the Stone.Age.

  The Stone Age.

  Baynes thought about that for a moment as the chanting beat out like thunder from the skies. The Stone Age, he thought. Everything gone. Could it happen? Maybe.

  He knew what to do. He would have to buy up some good cave property as a hedge. In the meantime, all was right with his world, and he opened his lungs to shout, "Kill for the love of Kali." And his children joined him this time.

  And then, suddenly, the ashram fell silent. All eyes turned to the door in the back as a young man raced forward, down the aisle, his eyes glittering with excitement. "She has provided," he shouted. "She has provided." In his hand he held a large pile of airline tickets. "I found them on the street outside," he said. "She has provided."

  The other followers nodded. Some mumbled. "She always provides. We love Kali."

  A moment later, Ban Sar Din ran out into the ashram from his holy office in the back, dumped out a batch of yellow handkerchiefs, and ran back to his office. The floor of the ashram shuddered with the slam of a steel-reinforced door.

  Chapter Ten

  Holly Rodan finished making her five hundredth tissue-paper carnation and attached it to the garland draped around the statue's neck.

  "Oh, Kali," she purred. "You are even more beautiful with these. When he comes, he will not be able to resist you."

  She sang a little song as she wound the paper flowers around the statue, as if it were a maypole. One of the flowers must have fallen from the garland and gotten underfoot, because suddenly her foot slipped out from under her and she fell forward on her face with a crash.

  "Clumsy me," she giggled, and applied a blob of spittle to her skinned knee.

  She had just barely started on the 501st carnation when she fell again with a loud thump. This time she slid almost to the edge of the raised platform on which the statue stood. She tried to get up and fell again, this time careening completely off the platform with a hard thump.

  "Noise! Noise!" Ban Sar Din screeched, waddling out of his office. On his way out, he slammed into a computer console that had been delivered that morning for A. H. Baynes.

  "First the crazy American installs two private telephone lines in my sacred office, and now this," he snapped. He kicked the computer. "What does he want of me? Oh, I live the life of a pig."

  Holly thumped loudly to the floor again, this time near the empty chairs of the faithful.

  "What is the matter with you, noisome child? In my land, women do not crash on the floor, even when they bend to kiss the feet of their husbands. Do you not think I have headaches enough with this Baynes pirate taking over my inner sanctum? Boom, boom, thump, thump. Even in Calcutta it is not so noisy."

  "A thousand thousand pardons, Holy One and respected of Kali," Holly said. "I just can't seem to get a grip on my . . ." With that, she slid halfway across the floor and banged her head on the incense table. "I've got it," she suddenly cried, sitting up. "I know why I'm stumbling and falling all over the place."

  "Ah, drugs. It is the curse of our age. What are you on?" he said.

  "It's Kali," Holly said, beaming. "Don't you see, Holy One? She's pushing me out the door. She wants me to leave on a mission. Alone. And somehow I knew She would. That is why when the others left on their trips, I chose to stay behind to decorate the statue."

  "If you say so," Ban Sar Din said.

  "The goddess has spoken to me," Holly rhapsodized. "Me, Holly Rodan. She has chosen me especially to serve Her." She stood up with dignity, crashed to the floor again, then crawled on her hands and knees toward the statue. "O Holy One," she shouted. "I can smell her."

  "Fine, fine," Ban Sar Din said, smiling and nodding agreeably. Inwardly, he made a mental note not to let Holly go on any more flights. The young woman had obviously gone over the edge. A planeful of closet killers was risky enough, but a genuine loud-mouthed loony-tune like Holly among them was sure to attract attention.

  "The scent, the scent," Holly chanted, whipping her long blond hair back and forth across the base of the statue. "She wants me to carry her scent with her. Smell for Kali," she intoned. "Smell, smell, SMELL. O Holy One, I will never wash again," she said.

  "Very Indian," Bar Sar Din said. The telephone rang.

  "Smell for Kali. Kill for Kali," Holly was chanting.

  "It's for you," Ban Sar Din said. "I think it's your mother."

  Holly made a disgusted face as she disentangled her hair from the goddess's feet.

  "Oh, Mother, what is it now?" she said into the phone. "Yeah. Yeah. So what? Huh? Well, I don't know. God ... that's it. She made it happen. What? I'll explain later."

  She hung up and looked at Ban Sar Din with an unalloyed expression of pleasure. "Holy One. My fa
ther's been killed in a car wreck," she said breathlessly.

  "Poor child. My sympathies-"

  "No, no, no. Don't you see? Kali did it."

  Ban Sar Din looked dubiously at the statue for which he had paid forty-three dollars. "Kali killed your father? Is he around here somewhere?"

  "No. He's in Denver. Or what's left of him is in Denver. See. That's where Kali wants me to go. The call from my mother was a sign. My mission is to go to Denver. Maybe there's someone special I'm supposed to kill there."

  "Now, don't be rash, Holly," Ban Sar Din said, wondering what would happen if she got picked up for murder alone, without another member of the ashram around to kill her before she could spill the beans to the police. "Perhaps you should be accompanied . . ."

  "I must go alone," Holly said fervently. "I must go where Kali sends me."

  "And Kali is sending you to Denver?" Bar Sar Din said. He realized he no longer had any plane tickets to Denver.

  "Denver," Holly said, her voice almost lyrical. "Kali is sending me to Denver."

  "Fly tourist," Ban Sar Din said. "I don't have a free ticket to Denver."

  Holly Rodan chanted "Kill for Kali" under her breath during the taxi ride on the way to the airport. She chanted while she waited for her plane in the just Folks terminal. It was now the most crowded terminal in the airport. Banners everywhere with just Folks's red-white-and-blue logo announced it as "the Friendly, SAFE Airline." In the waiting area, loudspeakers droned constantly, giving the safety statistics of just Folks compared with International Mid-America Airlines.

  The loudspeakers annoyed Holly. It was hard to chant with words blaring at her, but she kept trying. "Kill for Kali," she said softly, trying to concentrate. "Kill for the love of Kali."

  "Hey, baby," rumbled a voice in her ear. The owner of the voice was a middle-aged man wearing a raincoat.

  Holly looked up at him, blinking. Was he the reason for her journey? Had Kali sent this man for her to kill? "Maybe you're the one," she said.

  "You bet I am," the man answered. He pulled open his raincoat to expose a flabby naked body underneath.

  Then he ran away, but the experience left Holly shaken. "It's a test," she told herself. "I am supposed to go to Denver. Kali has decreed it. And She knows all." On the plane, she sidled up to an elderly woman and asked if she could help her with anything. The lady punched her in the stomach. Then as the passengers were leaving the plane in Denver, Holly flashed a bright smile at a good-looking young man and offered him a ride to his hotel.

  "The games and ploys of aggressive heterosexual females is something I find particularly disgusting," he said.

  "Oh, I'm sorry."

  "You'll do anything you can to get a man, won't you?"

  "I was only offering-"

  "Yes, I can see that you're very generous with your offers. Well, you can take that hairless perfumed carcass of yours and parade it around some singles bar. Some of us happen to prefer the pure beauty of our own gender."

  "Faggot," Holly said, walking away.

  "Breeder," he called after her. "And you smell bad, too."

  In the Denver terminal, a teenager with red-and-blue streaked hair began to walk alongside her.

  "Are you the one?" she asked in despair.

  "The one and only," he answered. "Superman, doing it through the night, a whole lot of loving just waiting for you, and I work hard for the money. I am the One."

  Her worries disappeared. "Thank Kali," she said. "Can I be your friend?"

  "Sure," he said. "Give me all your money and I'll be your friend forever." He snapped open a switchblade, pressed it against her throat, and herded her into a narrow dark corridor. "Let's see some friendly greenbacks."

  Holly shambled into Denver broke and disappointed. She had failed in her mission. Kali had selected her to serve in a unique and special way, and Holly had blown the opportunity. "Maybe I'll never be worth anything as a killer," she said in despair. As she walked into her parents' split-level suburban home, her mother saw Holly's tears and ran to comfort her.

  "Poor baby," Mrs. Rodan said. "I know this is a trying time for both of us."

  "Oh, get lost, Mother. Where's Father?"

  "He's dead. Remember?"

  "Oh, yeah. It's about time."

  "Would you like some tuna-noodle casserole?" her mother asked.

  "I'd rather eat barf."

  "Yes, dear. The funeral's in an hour. I've had your good black dress cleaned."

  "I'm not going to any funeral," Holly said.

  "But, dear, it's your father."

  "I didn't come here for any stupid funeral. I've got important things on my mind."

  "Of course, dear. I understand," said Mrs. Rodan. Holly wandered aimlessly around the streets of Denver, pondering her obscure mission for Kali. If the statue had wanted her to leave the ashram, she reasoned, it must have been for a purpose, a serious purpose. But no one seemed to be available for killing. She had tried to be a faithful executioner, but things kept going wrong.

  "A sign," she said aloud. "What I need is a sign." The sign came from the Mountaineer National Savings and Loan Association, which was inaugurating its first nighttime hours and having them commemorated by a bank robbery. The armed robber came fleeing through the doors of the bank with pistols blazing. He killed a policeman nonchalantly, fired into a crowd of onlookers, and dashed toward a tan Lincoln Continental parked half a block away. Holly was standing directly in front of the door on the driver's side of the car when he reached it. With a curse, he shoved Holly aside, tossing her into the line of traffic, and flung open the door.

  As he got into the car, almost as an afterthought, he turned and pointed his pistol at Holly to kill her. Then a peculiar thing happened. A thin young man with thick wrists stepped between the two of them. Holly watched as the door on the driver's side of the car ceased to exist. Then the steering wheel magically spun off its column and embedded itself in the bank robber's stomach.

  The young man then turned and appeared to stop an oncoming automobile five inches away from Holly Rodan's head by placing the heel of his shoe against the car's bumper.

  The bank robber, hopelessly pinned in the car, watched, feeling his insides turn to mush. Then he felt himself being lifted from the seat by the thin man, moved so quickly he felt like a blur. He felt the air whoosh around him as he sailed through the air, back toward the Mountaineer National S. ded in a lump in the midst of a crowd of onrushing policemen, who pinned him to the ground. The last thing the bank robber saw was a reflection in a plate-glass window of the man who had stopped him.

  Holly huddled on the street, her long hair strewn about her face like golden seaweed.

  "Are you all right?" Remo asked as he bent over her. She looked up and gaped at him. "You're the one," she said.

  "Oh, no." Remo stood up and skittered away from her. His back moved against a telephone pole. He couldn't breathe. A ghastly fear shook him to the pit of his stomach.

  "Get away," he whispered as Holly Rodan rose and came toward him.

  "No." Holly's voice was triumphant. "I finally understand. You're the reason She sent me here. I wasn't sent to kill. I was sent to bring you back. For Her. For Kali."

  "Go away. I don't know what you're talking about. And besides, you smell like a steer."

  "It's the scent of Kali. It's on my hair," Holly said. "Come, smell it."

  "Go fumigate the county jail with your hair," Remo said. He edged farther away from her.

  "Don't be afraid," Holly said, smiling sweetly. "I know about you. I know who you are."

  "You do?" Remo said. Maybe now, maybe this time he could kill her. Maybe if the reason was strong enough, he could do it. Maybe if she knew too much, if she was a danger to CURE, to the country. Maybe then he could kill her.

  "Who am I?" he said.

  "You're Kali's lover. She selected you and She sent me here to bring you to Her," Holly said. She moved closer and wrapped her arms around Remo's neck. The scent of her hai
r disgusted and excited him. He felt a loathsome stirring in his loins.

  "Go away," he said hoarsely. "Go away."

  She rubbed her hand on his thigh and Remo felt his resistance drain away. Her hair was so close to his face, the smell so pungent. It was a smell of far away and long ago.

  "Maybe you don't understand," she whispered into his ear, "but I do. I know your destiny. You must come with me. Follow me to Kali." She pulled him off the street and into a narrow twisting alley between two tall buildings. He felt powerless to resist.

  "What are you called, Lover of Kali?" she asked.

  "Remo," he said numbly.

  "Remo." She savored the word. "I am Kali's messenger, Remo. Come to me. I will give you a taste of what She will give you." She kissed him. The sickening, perverted smell crawled into his nostrils and set fire to his blood.

  "Take me," Holly said, her eyes glazed in a trance. "Take what Kali gives you." She pulled him down to the slimy bricks of the alley, littered with rotted cabbage leaves and coffee grounds and bird droppings. "Take me here, in the filth, for it is as She wishes." She opened her legs to Remo and then gasped as she felt his flesh burn inside her.

  When it was over, Remo turned his face to the wall of the building. He felt ashamed and dirty. Holly took his hand, but he brushed it away as if it were a maggot. "I don't always do this on the first date," she said.

  "Go away."

  "It really wasn't my idea," Holly said. "It's something that came over me."

  "Just get out of here, all right?"

  "Look, I've heard of postcoital tristesse, but isn't this a bit much?"

  Remo stumbled to his feet and staggered back from the young woman, who still lay on the ground amid the dirt of the alley. He barely had the strength to move. The smell of her was as a drug in his nostrils; his limbs felt leaden.

  "You can try to leave," Holly said. Her voice broke into brittle sharp laughter. "You can try, but you will follow me all the same. Kali wants you. She will bring you to Her. You'll see. You will come to Kali."

  Her voice grew small in the distance as he stumbled away. But even when Remo could no longer hear her, the scent of her still followed him like an invisible, teasing demon, and he knew that the girl was right. He would follow her, and somehow he knew the path would lead to death.