Lovers’ lane
of the dead

>> Kaimuki

He'd shoot them right here at Diamond Head Memorial Park. The acoustics of the big truck would mute the gunshots. Then he'd leave with the radio playing softly, draining the battery, and the doors locked. The lovers' lane of the dead.

Fon Du turned in the driver's seat, aiming the pistol at the second Lama Jey Tsong Khapa. Bodhicita Guzman, Fon Du's lover until two days ago, sat close to the young lama, clutching his hand.

Hoping to hear them both beg for mercy, he said, "Before I shoot you, any last words?"

"Actually, a question, if I may," the young lama said, no sign of fear in his voice or bearing.

This rattled Fon Du. Fear was his greatest ally. Still, there was something about this young man, so full of peace and strength. "One," he said.

"Why does the peaceful Buddha frighten the Chinese Communists so?"

"Fear? We fear nothing."

"Ah, I see. Then why are you pointing a pistol at me? Do you fear me?"

Suddenly fear had another ally, an unexpected one.

"Because I have my orders," Fon Du said tersely, as if that were that.

"So someone in China fears me? Your superiors, I presume. How can such strong, intelligent men be fearful of me? You're not scared of me, are you, Fon Du? How could you, I practice non-violence?"

There was something about the way he said his name. Fon Du liked it, wished to be addressed again by this young man.

But this was insane thinking. How had the lama turned the conversation around so fast? Fon Du had heard that Buddhists knew tricks, that for certain adept practitioners the time-space continuum continued off into strange, unknown places. Maybe he was doing that here. Or maybe it was the fading remnant of whatever it was (triple Prozac) that had been on the dart.

"The laws of the Motherland are sacrosanct," Fon Du, repeating by rote what he'd been taught from his days with the Young Workers Brigade.

"Ah, yes, the dear Motherland. Ignoring for the moment of whether or not Tibet ought to be part of China or an independent nation, doesn't a loving mother provide discipline as well as nurturing for her children? Doesn't she support their noble dreams and ambitions?"

"Mao Tse-tung said religion is the opiate of the people," Fon Du said, running on auto-pilot.

"I thought opium was the opiate of the people, but never mind. Buddha taught the search for absolute truth, using logic and reason, cause and utter effect, and that each of us is responsible for that ourselves, not a god."

Fon Du shook his head, waving way these crazy thoughts. "I don't want to ruin your clothes, your, uh, lamaness. Take 'em off. Now."