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eBook Category: Science Fiction
eBook Description: What should you do if you meet the Buddha on the road? You're supposed to kill him, of course, because you can never meet the real Buddha. Or so thinks the narrator of this time-traveling tale of nihilism, muscle cars, religion, and violence.

eBook Publisher: Fictionwise.com, Published: S1ngularity, 2003
Fictionwise Release Date: February 2004

33 Reader Ratings: Great Good OK Poor

Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: Adobe Acrobat (PDF) [68 KB], eReader (PDB) [30 KB], Palm Doc (PDB) [16 KB], Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [15 KB], Microsoft Reader (LIT) [66 KB] - PocketPC 1.0+ Compatible, Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [87 KB], hiebook (KML) [64 KB], Sony Reader (LRF) [44 KB], iSilo (PDB) [13 KB], Mobipocket (PRC) [17 KB], Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [45 KB], OEBFF Format (IMP) [25 KB]
Words: 4951
Reading time: 14-19 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Adobe Acrobat (PDF) Format:  Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED

We killed the Buddha for the first time outside of Berlin.

It was fitting that we caught sight of him walking barefoot next to the autobahn, where it would be a real bitch to stop in time to pick him up. But we were nothing if not up for a challenge. I brought our '75 Firebird screeching to a stop next to him on the narrow shoulder, giving him a few centimeters of breathing room between muscle car and blocky metal guardrail, and opened the passenger door. Traffic screamed past us like bullets as the little man lifted his robes and stepped into the car. With a groan, Ari had jumped into the back and onto Marco's lap, crushing Annina, Marco, and Yeshev. The Buddha rode shotgun.

He was bald, of course, but a lot skinnier than I'd ever imagined. He'd been walking west, out of Berlin into the German countryside, probably headed for Madrid or Amsterdam or some damn place like that. I had to grin at the dirt trapped under his fingernails like brown scars. His face was made up of delicate bones, like a china doll I'd had as a little girl, before I broke it with my baseball bat.

When the Buddha smiled at me I felt the world teeter, but that could've been caused by the two oversized bottles of beer I'd already downed. Before tromping on the gas, I checked the rearview mirror for the first time all day, looking around the multi-colored faces cheek-to-cheek in the back seat so we wouldn't get into a wreck. I wanted to savor the moment, stretch it out like day-old taffy. It wasn't every day you came across someone who--for all intents and purposes--was a major player from the spiritual realm, thumbing a ride.

And you know, of course, what you're supposed to do when you meet the Buddha on the road.