The Final Circle Of Paradise Part 12

"I'm warning you, one more stunt like that, and we'll throw you out. A drunken kulturfuhrer -- it's enough to make you sick."

"Stop preaching at him, give a man a chance to sleep it off."

"Fellows! There he is, the l-louse!"

The street was empty, and the louse was clearly me. I could bend my left arm already, but it hurt like the devil, and I stepped back to let them pa.s.s. There were three of them. They were young, in identical caps, pushed over their eyes. One, thickset and low-slung, was obviously amused and held the other one, a tall, open-faced, loose-jointed fellow, with a powerful grip, restraining his violent and sporadic movements. The third, long and skinny, with a narrow and darkish face, was following at some distance with his hands behind his back. As he got alongside me, the loose-jointed one braked determinedly.

The short one attempted to nudge him off the spot, but in vain.

The long one pa.s.sed by and then stopped, looking back impatiently over his shoulder.

"Thought you were gonna get away, pig!" he yelled drunkenly, attempting to seize me by the chest with his free hand.

I retreated to the fence and said, addressing myself to the short fellow, "I had no business with you."

"Stop being a rowdy," said the distant one sharply.

"I remember you very well indeed," yelled the drunk.

"You're not going to get away from me! I'll get even with you!"

He advanced upon me in surges, dragging the short one, who hung on with bulldog grimness, behind him.

"It's not him," cajoled the low-slung one, who was still very merry. "That guy went off to the shivers and this one is sober."

"You won't fool me."

"I'm warning you for the last time. We are going to expel you."

"Got scared, the b.u.m! Took off his bracelet."

"You can't even see him. You're worthless without your gla.s.ses."

"I can see everything pe-erfectly!... And even if he isn't the one..."

"Stop it! Enough is enough!"

The long one finally came back and grasped the drunk from the other side.

"Will you move on!" he said to me with irritation, "Why the devil are you stopping here! Haven't you ever seen a drunk?"

"Oh, no! You aren't going to get away from me."

I continued on my way. I had not far to go by now. The trio dragged along behind me noisily.

"I can see right through him, if you please. King of Nature! Drunk enough to retch, and to beat up whoever comes along. Got beat up himself, and that's all he needs.... Let go of me, I'll hang a few good ones on his mug...."

"What have you come to, we have to walk you along like a hood."

"So don't walk me!... I loathe them.... Shivers, wenches, whiskey... brainless jelly..."

"Sure, sure, take it easy, just don't fall."

"Enough of your reproofs... I am sick of your hypocrisy, your puritanism. We should blow them up, shoot them! Raze everything off the face of the earth!"

"Drunk as a coot, and I thought he was sobered up!"

"I am sober. I remember everything... the twenty-eighth, right?"

"Shut up, you fool."

"Shh! Right you are! The enemy is on the alert....

Fellows, there was a spy here somewhere.... Didn't I talk to him?... The son of a b.i.t.c.h took off his bracelet... but I'll get that d.i.c.k before the twenty-eighth!"

"Will you be quiet!"

"Shh! And not another word. That's it! And don't worry, the grenade launchers are my baby."

"I am going to kill him right now, the b.u.m!"

"Lay it on the enemies of civilization.... Fifteen hundred meters of tear gas -- personally... six sectors... awk!"

I was already by the gate to my house. When I turned around to look, the burly man was lying face down, the short one was squatting alongside, while the long fellow stood rubbing the edge of his right hand.

"Why did you do that?" said the short man. "You must have maimed him."

"Enough prattle," said the long one furiously. "We can't seem to learn to stop prattling. We can't learn to stop boozing. Enough!"

Let us be as children, Doctor Opir, thought I, slipping into the yard as quietly as possible. I held the latch to keep it from clicking into place.

"Where did he go?" said the long one, lowering his voice.

"Who?"

"The guy who went ahead of us."

"Turned off somewhere."

"Where? Did you notice?"

"Listen, I wasn't concerned about him."

"Too bad. But all right, pick him up, and let's go."

Stepping into the shadow of the apple trees, I watched them drag the drunk by the gate. He was wheezing horribly.

The house was quiet. I went to my quarters, undressed, and took a hot shower. My shirt and shorts smelled of tear gas and were covered with the greasy spots of the luminous liquid. I threw them into the hamper. Next, I inspected myself in the mirror and marveled once more at how lightly I had gotten away: a b.u.mp behind the ear, a sizable contusion on the left shoulder, and some sc.r.a.ped ribs. Also skinned knuckles.

On the night table, I discovered a notice which respectfully suggested that I deposit a sum to cover the rent for the apartment for the first thirty days. The sum was quite considerable, but tolerable. I counted out a few credits and stuffed them into the thoughtfully provided envelope, and then lay down on the bed with my hands behind my head. The sheets were cool and crisp, and a salty sea breeze blew in through the open window. The phonor susurrated cozily behind my ear. I intended to think awhile before falling asleep, but was too exhausted and quickly dozed off.

Later, some noise in the background awakened me, and I grew alert and listened with eyes wide open.

Somewhere nearby, someone either cried or sang in a thin childish voice. I got up cautiously and leaned out the open window. The thin halting voice was intoning: "... having stayed in the grave but a short time, they come out and live among the living as though alive." There was the sound of sobs. From far away like the keening of a mosquito came the chant "Shi-vers!

Shi-vers!" The pitiable little voice went on -- "Blood and earth mixed together they can't eat." I thought that it was Vousi, drunk and lamenting upstairs in her room, and called out softly, "Vousi!" No one replied, The thin voice cried out: "Hence from my hair, hence from my flesh, hence from my bones,"

and I knew who it was. I climbed over the window sill, jumped onto the lawn, and went to the apple grove, listening to the sobbing. Light appeared through the trees, and soon I came to a garage. The doors were cracked open and I looked in. Inside was a huge shiny Opel. Two candles were burning on the workbench.

There was a smell of gasoline and hot wax.

Under the candles, seated on a work stool, was Len, dressed in a full-length white gown, in bare feet, with a thick, well-worn book on his knees. He regarded me with wide-open eyes, his face completely white and frozen with terror.

"What are you doing here?" I said loudly and entered.

He continued to look at me in silence and started to tremble. I could hear his teeth chattering.

"Len, old friend," I said, "I guess you didn't recognize me. It's me -- Ivan."

He dropped the book and hid his hands in his armpits. As earlier today, in the morning, his face beaded with cold sweat.

I sat down alongside of him and put my arm around his shoulders. He collapsed against me weakly. He shook all over. I looked at the book. A certain Doctor Neuf had blessed the human race with An Introduction to the Science of Necrological Phenomena. I kicked the book under the bench.

'Whose ear is that?" I asked loudly.

"Mo... Mama's..."

"A very nice Ford."

"It's not a Ford. It's an Opel."

"You're right -- it is an Opel... a couple of hundred miles per hour I would guess..."

"Yes."

"Where did you get the candles?"

"I bought them."

"Is that right! I didn't know that they sold candles in our time. Is your bulb burned out? I went out in the garden, you know, to get an apple off a tree, and then I saw the light in the garage."

He moved closer to me and said, "Don't leave for a while yet, will you?"

"OK. What do you say we blow out the lights and go to my place?"

"No, I can't go there."

"Where can't you go?"

"In the house and to your place." He was talking with tremendous conviction. "For quite a while yet. Until they fall asleep."

"Who?"

"They."

"Who are -- they?"

"They -- you hear?"

I listened. There was only the rustle of branches in the wind and somewhere very far away the cry of: "Shi-vers!

Shi-vers!"'

"I don't hear anything special," I said.

"That's because you don't know. You are new here and they don't bother the new ones."

"But who are they, after all?"

"All of them. You've seen the fink with the b.u.t.tons?"

"Pete? Yes, I saw him. But why is he a fink? In my opinion, he's an entirely respectable man."

Len jumped up.

"Come on," he said in a whisper, "I'll show you. But be quiet."

We came out of the garage, crept up to the house, and turned a corner. Len held my hand all the time; his palm was cold and wet..

"There -- look," he said.

Sure enough, the sight was frightening. My customs friend was lying on the porch with his head stuck at an unnatural angle through the railing. The mercury vapor light from the street fell on his face, which looked blue and swollen, and covered with dark welts. Through half-open lids, the eyes could be seen, crossed toward the bridge of the nose.

'They walk among the living, like living people in the daytime," murmured Len, holding on to me with both hands. "They bow and smile, but at night their faces are white, and blood seeps through their skin." I approached the veranda. The customs man was dressed in pajamas. He breathed noisily and exuded a smell of cognac. There was blood on his face, as though he'd fallen on his face into some broken gla.s.s.

"He's just drunk," I said loudly. "Simply drunk and snoring. Very disgusting."

Len shook his head.

"You are a newcomer," he whispered. "You see nothing. But I saw." He shook again. "Many of them came. She brought them...

and they carried her in... there was a moon... they sawed off the top of her head... and she screamed and screamed... and then they started to eat with spoons. She ate, too, and they all laughed when she screamed and flopped around..."

"Who? Who was it?"

"And then they piled on wood and burned it and danced around the fire... and then they buried everything in the garden... she went out to get the shovel in the car... I saw it all... do you want to see where they buried her?"

"You know what, friend?" I said. "Let's go to my place."