City, Sister, Silver, page 41
But then she started throwing up bile. All I could do was hold her head. And that night, before Hunter got in the car … she didn’t want to go to the sea with me.
We stood on a path in the woods. I gave it a shot. Fidgeting like I was nervous, I told Smoothy: My work’s finished. I’m goin. Let me go. Smoothy threw up his hands. Why, my dear esteemed Mr. Potok, that is out of the question! Think what you like, but Oriental hospitality is an important factor here. Now we are going to walk through the forest, the general first, then our new friend, and after them you. After you will be me, and my dear Mr. Potok … I sorely beg you … try to understand … it would be best if we also arrive in that order, yes?
Yeah right. At that moment I despised … Hunter. That time on the street, him jabbin that bamboo stick around with me at his side … that was different … now he had a mission. But I’m no commissar.
He walked past like he didn’t even see me. We followed the path through the woods, crooked trees all around, then we came to a swamp, I watched the worms’ bizarre little trails in the puddles … unnamable creatures, it’s nonsense what they call em in labs … Hunter stopped as we entered a gully. A tree trunk lay across the path. The tank driver and Smoothy went runnin up and started wrasslin around with it … but didn’t take their eyes off me, it was ridiculous! The tree’s roots were tangled up, they didn’t spot the little snarl of nettles. I freed it all up and rocked the tree off the path. Hunter gave the nod and we moved on. The tank driver tried to take a shortcut and sank into the swamp … just up to his knees, but he got pretty freaked … as we walked on, Smoothy couldn’t hold back and started rattlin on again, I would’ve rather listened to the birds, why put up with human conversation right to the end …
Mr. Potok, a very interesting cultural dissimilarity, did you know that in our country people never go for walks? Most of their time they spend seeking food. Perhaps poets and philosophers once did, but they have all been reeducated now … one does not walk in the forest in our country, the forest there is different, can you believe it? You can only go in with a tiger club … of course I am joking! Can you believe it? My friend here, who so imprudently strayed from the path just now, has traveled dozens of kilometers through the most dangerous jungle on earth. He escaped from the camp and headed for Thailand, truly he is something special … if only he knew how to write, he could publish a comparative study, here is a man who survived a reeducation camp in his homeland, then another one next door in Laos, and then, consider this, the Khmers spent several years making him into a new man … and he survived, even though no one expected it of him. Such a comparative study would be extremely interesting, he emerged from the jungle unscathed and hiked into Thailand, where he survived several refugee camps, and when he was hungry, he admitted, he …
Guess that’s what got Paulina, huh?
Your cynicism, Mr. Potok, is entirely out of place. I am showing you a phenomenon here … compare, if you will … the gentleman ahead of you is quite probably the only human on earth to have completed such a journey, and yet he sinks into the mud at the first silly little European forest he comes to, no snakes, no mines … no people, apart from us, naturally. Of course we are all friends.
Oh yeah, it was obvious what kinda friendship he’d show me if I were to start skippin even just a little bit indiscreetly. One minute I wanted to whimper, the next I felt calm. One childish self of mine refused to believe after all we’d been through that they could just … in cold blood … but I know people with a mission are the worst of all. Commissars. They’ve rid themselves of choice.
We walked through the woods for about an hour, and I’ve never felt a forest so much. Out of habit, I guess, I examined it, remembering it, putting it inside me. There were moments I felt like it knew. Like it was friendly to me. The men around me, our paths intertwined … but their souls were filled with vines and snakes and orchids … maybe they had the dragon, but in my cells I’ve got the bear … the pine … those swampy pools of theirs’re different, they donno a thing about cuttin through lilac and steerin clear of blackberry bushes. I was on my home turf, that consoled me a little. In spite of everything. When it came to this forest trail, this path, they didn’t know a thing. They didn’t feel what I did. Then Hunter came to a stop.
We were on a hill, we’d come up out of a gorge and now we were standing on top, hidden by trees, beech trees. Below us shone the white roof of a hideous one-story building made of plywood boards, plastic, and sheet metal. The kinda thing people leave behind in godforsaken places.
Smoothy went ahead of me, teeth shining in a smile … you are our only guest, Mr. Potok, the only one, we hope … notice if you will, he showed me what he had in his hand … a pinecone … this highly remarkable and exotic fruit is worth more to us than all the supergadgets put together … he threw the cone onto the roof below and another one right after … ponk! ponk! … the woods around the building rippled … at first I only spotted movement, then them, hopping out … like this: hop, hop … from the bushes on this late afternoon … the tank driver and I gawked, he was overjoyed … we started off downhill.
The building was just camouflage, they had pits in the bushes, that’s where they lived … waiting. Greetings like barking, they didn’t waste time … I gave em a nod … the captain slapped me on the back, but I didn’t trust him anymore … but the scariest character was Smoothy junior. He was no smoothy, he was … a mankurt.* I don’t think he knew he was living. Looked at his dad like he was air, didn’t rush over or anything. His eyes hung on Hunter. Aw, shut up, I told myself … What do I know what kina hell they got inside em. Anyway I’m on their side, although … They’d given up trying to convince me that we’d be going to track someone else down still. The day was fading, slowly and surely. I tried hard to absorb. The things of the world whipped me like ivy.
They had a car there. Roomy enough for the seven I’d dragged outta the factories, plus the boss. Plus Smoothy. I don’t think they were figurin on a spot for me. They were on a mission. Mine was apparently at its end.
I wanna talk to the general, I told Smoothy. He isn’t a general … and he doesn’t have time. I went up to Hunter an let loose in French, panting like some kinda Gavroche. The general refuses to speak the language of the colonizers, Smoothy translated for me. I tried Russian. No dice. Then kiss my ass, you nimrod! Smoothy grinned.
Let’s go inside, he took me by the elbow, I had no choice. Smoothy … You have betrayed us from the beginning. No, I’m on your side. Don’t lie! For once I’m not lyin. You would lead them here. I don’t wanna, screw em. You took money from them. They wouldn’t’ve trusted me otherwise, all I wanna do is grab Sister an split … I know, said Smoothy. And do you trust her? I stopped … like he’d bitten me. You know her, Smoothy? I am asking whether you trust her … yeah … but. Precisely, said Smoothy.
Inside it was scorching, they didn’t air it out. Everything was bent, banged up, who knew how long that place’d been standin there. Formica looked fresh though. I went and opened a window, turning my back to Smoothy. Wait a moment, he said. It’s still too light. Huh? You lied to me constantly, Mr. Potok … all those words of yours … nilly, noo-noo, figling, mickiwick … bimbam, thupdoodle, frickter … I went through every one of my dictionaries, those words don’t exist … Hah, they do now, Smoothy! How true, did you know that I am a professor … of comparative literature … does that mean anything to you? Not even close, but what’s it matter now, right? An what’d you mean about the light … Not only am I a professor, Mr. Potok, but I have been trained … and Smoothy took a running start, it was tough in that little room, but he’s a nimble little guy, rammed his head into the wall, face first … I thought he’d gone nuts, here I am, the only normal one, surrounded by loonies, I mean look at Černá, she’s psycho too … he looked a little stunned but took another run-up, this time it made a crunching sound, his knees sagged a little, he wagged his head … seeping blood, his nose, I guess … I am releasing you, Mr. Potok, and I am doing this so they will think that you overpowered me, which, he laughed, will astound them … I am a Christian, Mr. Potok, but my family, what is left of it, are Buddhists … and I am going to tell you something, some words you do not know, he pulled a small figurine from his pocket, some little demon … gold probly … I curbed my comments … this is Sakya Muni, said Smoothy, I had it made in Paris, and he is my family’s God of Happiness and Good Fortune, I am releasing you so that in turn perhaps someone will release … one of my people … is night falling yet? Is dusk upon us? Is … twilight drawing near? I guess he was a little giddy from the blows, but he’d been trained … so he sat down an pulled out a gun … with a silencer, I knew it from the movies … an said … if night is falling, then run along, and please, don’t let them get you, because I cannot give you a second chance and the general may not give me even a first one, and did you see my son? I smashed my face in, but at least you have kept me amused, perhaps I shall yet reach the end … min-ding, thupdoodle … pantoong, yes, the borders of poetry are as flexible as the borders of the Chinese provinces … I was already outside, but I leaned in through the window … thupdoodle, but my sis came up with that one … Go! Hurry! And he fired, thup! … and again, thup! and I didn’t make up that exclamation point, and I was halfway up the hill before I looked back and saw that Smoothy wasn’t in the chair anymore … I ran … but when I got to the top I checked myself, only fools rush into the woods … and it started … hop, hop … they went flashing past … ahead of me and on either side, and I snuck off, slow and silent, in the other direction … but they were no dodos, that was obvious. My only advantage perhaps was a childhood of make-believe, this was my forest and I was a robber, only now the king’s men were menacingly real … I crept slowly … they ran, I think, silent and bowed … and the first beech to offer me its trunk and branches I accepted, and stayed there … toward morning I spotted two of em, goin along, sniffin the wind, and in their hands … all they had were these thin little canes, it scared the hell outta me … next day I stole across the hillside, allowing myself some speed now, swooping in and out of the rocks … and I came around a stone mound and there was Smoothy’s son.
He just sat there, holdin a cane, lookin at me, didn’t breathe a word. I started shakin, couldn’t control it. I think I said: Oh. But he didn’t stir, was it a dream? I kicked the stone, the mankurt waved his hand. I walked around him … waiting, waiting. But then … he got tears in his eyes. Shook his head, and a great big one dripped off his chin. Strange creature. I headed back into the woods. He waved after me.
At last I made it to a road. It was falling to pieces, at every bend I was worried the gravel would give out. And after … some time, I donno how long, I heard a familiar drone, it stabbed right through me … it was the weirdest thing, totally unnatural, I didn’t hear any technological stuff at all in the area, no robots, buzzsaws, engines, planes, no silver birds in a streak of exhaust … no traffic lights beeping, nothing. Don’t get that much anymore.
It was a junker, patchwork job, the guy took a start when I came outta the trees, but he pulled over. Hello, scuse me, could I get a lift? I had a humble expression on and more language tricks in reserve. What … where ya goin? he asked. Big guy, black sweater, older than me. And around his neck … silver! I couldn’t believe it.
He was a milkman with a pickup full of milk jugs. Came in handy. Did a pretty good business, I gathered. We rode along, he told stories.
He’d left the city. This here all useda be military, strategic area, he said, elbow propped out the window … vacuated alla the villages. Just opened it up now, after the revolution. Soldiers cleared out, Russians too. Was it a revolution, whadda you think? I gave some answer. Over there, he waved his hand, ya got Poland, over there Ukraine, this here’s Slovakia, I think, an over there’s nothin, he kidded. We had a good time.
I’ll drop ya in Usanica, at the train. How’d ja wind up here? Aw, just driftin, takin a look around … I hear ya, he nodded. Locals don’t exactly flock here, too superstitious. Couple Ruthenians, in the mountains, come down for vodka an chewin gum, that’s about it … only people we get out here’re city folk. There’s a family with kids nearby. An the one that herds. The locals … you wouldn’t believe the stories they got. Say there’s ghosts round here. Last time they had anything spooky out here was Bandera* an his crew. An sposedly … there’s some factory, from the war still. Buried. They say after the Germans left, the Russkies started it up again. Wives’ tales. Was an earthquake here, way back when. But otherwise there’s nothin goin on, so they still remember. The time the earth shook.
What’re you doin here? I inquired of Mr. Talkative.
Me … I found somethin! he said excitedly, and pulled over. I flinched, another wacko … He took me round the back of the truck and unrolled some blankets full of assorted unusual rocks …
Donno how much biology you had, but those’re trilobites! He lovingly lifted one and rotated it to give me a side view … I discovered caves, hundreds of em! His face was … happy. Gorgeous, they’re beauties … an there’s somethin else in there too, he said, winking. Flowers! Know this one? He pulled a deep orange flower out of his pocket and rubbed it between his fingers. Strong fragrance.
Sure don’t.
It’s saffron … there’s whole meadows of em, I’m gettin it analyzed, see if it’s mutated … you wanna join the team, we can make a deal!
I felt an almost irresistible urge … first I gotta go see my girl.
Bring her along, what’s stoppin ya?
You’re a great guy … I told him sincerely … would Černá … maybe, maybe not … it’s a possibility. But the main thing was, I had material for my dreams.
Word of advice for ya, he said back on the road … get a haircut, no point in stickin out around here … they don’t like it.
Don’t like it anywhere.
City’s different … out here everyone knows bout everyone else, even if they’re kilometers apart. They know right away when somebody new comes. Or disappears.
I don’t like the sound a that, I said.
That’s the way it is, nothin you can do. He kept quiet a while. Then he says … yeah, I’m satisfied here, the one that herds too … how long though I donno … there’s times I think I’ve found my place … an there’s times somethin tells me I should clear out while I can … there’s somethin strange here, that’s for sure. Just donno what. Where ya wanna hop out?
At the station. So this is Ušanica?
Yep.
Holy shit!
You’ll get used to it.
Keep goin. Step on it!
Standing in front of the station was Hunter.
I dropped to the floor, squeezin up against the metal. My new friend was understanding, he kept goin … was that a Russian? he inquired.
No. I donno.
Some Kazakh or Kalmyk or somethin … said the fella, he a deserter? There’s some a those round here, don’t wanna go back to Mother Russia, they want Germany. Yep, they’re real curious bout them over there. Dads hacked the place to pieces an their boys got freedom. Crazy how the wheel spins, huh? Been a long time since I talked normal with anyone. Also useda be Mongols out here worked in the porcelain factory. Mongol in a china shop’s what they say out here, good, huh? But it didn’t work out … with the locals. Surprised that one showed his face. You got some racket goin with them? Forget it, all they got’s rifles for booze, now the gangs’re gettin in on it … I warn ya, you look like a regular guy … Where ya headed? I gotta go to the lab … all the way to … Mezilavorie, know it?
Nope.
You’ll see.
The car wove through the concrete. The only living people were at the pepper market. But it was beautiful. Except for the concrete. Concrete. Formica. Tar.
Here’s where they put the folks from the woods, get it? Housin projects! Took their land. Blew up their houses, everything, gone. So there’d be nothin left to orient by. An they gave em TVs for free, get it? Like as compensation … yeah it’s obvious! What that musta done to em. Strategic area … ya know there’s no maps a this region? An if there are, they’re maimed on purpose. It’s gonna take years! Drunks lyin all over the place! An maybe this guy wanted me to run inta him, hafta toss him some change then. Never get away in this clunker. Yep, look at that, got his buddies around the corner, that’s what they’re doin all right, an I thought I was makin it up. He shook his head.
No Gothic here, boy, nothin, my rescuer lectured me. Baroque, hah! Maybe a couple painted chests, about it … herders, man. Nomads. Stone Age to Stalin. Mud huts to housin projects. Tartars’d flip, they came back … There’s a few wooden churches, for appearance’ sake, synagogues’re fucked too, Jews didn’t stay, not here, not a one, closest ones now’re all the way down in Bratislava … nothin out here cept for bolshevism, an that’ll be here forever, construction … hey, a museum, an there’s that big Ruthenian artist … I missed the name, since we nearly ran over a cat … plump thing, just lyin there, claws tearin the air … didn’t wanna move. It was black, what else. And then it got up and ran across the road.
I dozed off in the train, just on the edge of a dream, enjoying the feeling … now, my sweet, now we’ll pack up an move on, wherever … maybe the sea, maybe not, the day rocks along … maybe saffron, maybe some other fragrance … I had the compartment to myself.
Take care, Smoothy, wherever you are, you tall-tale teller and observationist, you dissectionist you, and thanks … tonight I’m taking a holiday, I’m giving it to myself, I want to spend it in solitude.
The conductor stepped in, thoughtful fella, doused the light, it was hurting my eyes, I rubbed my eyelids … we go flying into a tunnel, I hand him my ticket, he’s got on a silly hat … buttons with an insignia, a uniform … light whipped out of the tunnel and suddenly Hunter stood before me with a vacant expression, clutching a thin cane, spinning it around his wrist … I know one end of the cane’s dull and the other’s whittled to a point … I jump up, bang my head on the window, wake up … good gracious, what is it, sonny, someone says … a granny’s sittin there, I’m all sweaty … bad dream, here, take a cough drop, freshens the breath … No thanks, I sat back down … old lady looks like Mrs. Macešková, flower-print scarf, like my grandma had … but I had to go to the bathroom, I leaned over the sink a while, told the mirror: Say hi to Černá, washed up … the granny wasn’t there anymore, guess I got the wrong compartment, maybe went the other direction, I donno. I rode the rest of the way without incident, in daylight.
