City, Sister, Silver, page 55
I managed to get drunk just like old times. How far can it go? I asked myself. What am I capable of? The lid was blown off for good. And from all those black corners … all those train station faces, an evil power made its way into me, I don’t excuse myself, it was me who let it in. First I went out behind the ties. To my chamber. Found a bottle there, good boy! Ondra knew that was where I hung out, and left me in peace. Kid’s got this station cased better than anyone, he knows his stuff. And what awaits him, too. If he survives, he’ll turn out a bum. Maybe king of the bums, if he’s strong. Heh, knight on horseback, he’ll get over that soon enough. I got mean … accused Gramps of owing me money … he was by himself and scared, coughed up some change. I drank. What am I capable of? What’ll I do next? That was my refrain. Outta my way, asshole … I shoved someone aside … someone who maybe the day before I’d drank with, hugged, searched for the same words, maybe even bedded down next to in the same lousy rags … his story, I bared my teeth at the loser, he kept his mouth shut, slunk off. His luck, motherfucker. Coulda had it all behind him, miserable piece a shit. I don’t remember anymore who it was. I went to the men’s room, where sometimes I retreated when the string got too loud … sat there shakin my head, wishin it would stop … and I had to hear all the sounds and the bullshit … it hurt so much! I ripped the mirror off the wall, trashed the place a little. Some upper cruster slipped out. I’m human, what am I capable of. This, I stomped up the bakelite, an this, I punched out the lightbulb, the red stuff came trickling out, that only enraged me more … I went downstairs, at this time of day the hookers were usually by the ladies’ room … you, come with me … no, not you, she was too young for what I wanted, you, picked out an old biddy, some raspy old hosebag, barely draggin … how much ya got? As much as you want … but c’mon, move it … out by the bushes … We walked outside and went up toward the ventilators, into the scanty light’s shadows, I noticed drops on the bushes, dew I guess, can that be? What’d you say … what dew? How do you wannit? She ran her hands over my crotch. I saw that it was Howdoyoudo Lolly. But what would she be doin downstairs, she works a different post … groping me, painted face like a mask … you ain’t even hard … how much ya got? I got this … she knelt on the ground, mouth open, I put the barrel to her forehead, quick, so she wouldn’t see, wouldn’t be scared … squeezed the trigger, she had a hole in her head, and then the sound kicked open the night, blood spurting, mouth still open wide, she tipped backward, legs shooting out, the blast deafened me. No, it couldn’t’ve even hurt, I wasn’t holding the gun anymore … you see, I told myself, that’s what you’re capable of … and if you’d wanted, she could’ve suffered, the possibilities, it’s horrible. So I can do … even this. I stood waiting … somebody must’ve heard it go off, waiting … for someone to come, the cops … anyone at all … but nothing happened, she lay there under the bushes, drops on them. Glistening. Leaves hanging there in the cold light, everything as before. I leaned over her … is it Howdoyoudo or not … and agh … I screamed, or gasped … it was an old lady’s face, white hair, swollen body … the body of my She-Dog, this was the old lady I’d held in my arms there, where she’d given herself to me, in the cellar.
I fled through the park, hands pressed to my face, I could hear my breath and my teeth knocking, couldn’t control my jaws … my face was twitching.
I lay down under a bush, it was almost daylight. My head ached. But the string lay peaceful in the dark. It was a dream, my mind raced … I wouldn’t do something like that … but I didn’t have the pistol … I got up … found the spot. The grass was flattened, yes … this is where she’d been, but there was nothing there now, stains on the leaves … not blood, I tore one off, brown, crusty, barely alive in the wind and the dust … went back inside, dragged myself through the concourse … in the men’s room I ran water over my head … place was all smashed up, but when isn’t it, I can’t tell … they could’ve changed the light-bulb. I went looking for Gramps. By some miracle … I had a little money, bought him a cup of coffee. I know I owe you, Gramps, but about yesterday … yeah, you got sloshed an went off to snooze in the park. Yesterday, Gramps … I heard some lady got killed … hey, what do I know, people talk all kindsa shit here, what’s wit you? Hangover. Yeah yeah … hookers come an hookers go. I guess it was a dream then … I took a sip. Maybe not, said Gramps. Ah! … scalded my tongue. C’mon, Gramps, you know a thing or two. I donno nuttin, what do I know what kina dreams you got … Christ … he shuffled off … you’re goin nuts here, he shouted back at me, better hurry … while you’re still young … get out!
I believe that I prayed genuinely for the first time in a long while … thought about my folks too, the old family … I’d told them to go screw themselves, back then, in the ancient past, which was hollow … but they used to take me. To church, when I was little. I had to. Now I said: I am not worthy for you to come under my roof, but speak to me just one single word … and my soul will be healed. I said it with affection. But there was silence. And I screamed because … I patted myself down to make sure I hadn’t lost the Madonna too … then I really donno, then I’m lost. She was there. Around my neck.
I walked out of the concourse and off through the park, not because of what Gramps’d said, not because of the day before … and even if it didn’t happen, it was still an important dream, it meant something. I walked away … the sun was coming up, it’s usually a little misty and a little cold then, and suddenly I heard behind me: Wait! Where ya goin?
Away.
Hey … I’m goin with you!
No way, not where I’m goin …
Aw, lemme go with you.
No.
I knew the kid … was still there. Heard him start running and spun around.
Ondra! He stopped.
I’m tellin you … no way!
Way!
Look … I picked up a stone. Cut it out. You can’t come.
Take me with you …
And he started running, so I threw the stone.
I didn’t want to hit him. But I knew he was used to it. He wouldn’t’ve understood otherwise. The last time I turned, he was still standing there. His puny build. Pissed me off. I walked out of the park.
22
IN A FIELD OF EVER-CHANGING COLORS. WHO I’M SCARED OF. ONWARD, TO THE LAB. THE STONE. SHE’S GOT A VEIL, SHE’S KIND. SHE SAYS: YOU HAVE TO.
I didn’t go to the place with the sign. But once I found myself downtown, where all it’d take was a little jog to get to her attic flat … to the place where we’d shared our things … I couldn’t go there either.
I had the key. Tucked safely in my jacket’s inside pocket. Everything on me hurt. The string didn’t make itself heard, that I kept a watch on. But the pressure on my chest. There, where I had the silver, I could feel every bit of skin, it was like it had scales. Like Madonna’s wise and kindly face was tugging me toward the ground. The ground. I mostly walked with my eyes lowered. I didn’t want to see the others. The thought of disappearing into the trams’ iron bellies struck me with horror. People inside hung on the bars, looking out. I went very cautiously and slowly, following the path. There was only one left.
I hadn’t remembered the Dump like that. Sure … I’d heard a thing or two. It had expanded. The town fathers found it profitable to lease out unused plots of land to big foreign firms, which not only tossed out lots of stuff still usable by the locals, but even paid to do it.
Now the Dump extended from the last housing estates as far as the eye could see. A yellow haze hung over it, lashed by an occasional wind. Smoke climbed skyward in many spots. The clouds, steeped in water, barely moved. I had to walk carefully, paying attention to what I stepped on. The soft stuff often reeked. But soon I came across a trail. The Dump only seemed to be dead. Tires baked on either side, the wind swept heat into my face. A pool of something gurgled beneath the papers. There were artificial mountains. They’d been trucked in. I skirted the mountains and hiked through the canyons. Covered my mouth with my hand in some spots to keep out the ashes tossed by the wind. Between the heaps of garbage it was occasionally calm, sometimes out in the open I had to run from the heat’s scorching tongue. There were patches of hard ground here and there. That didn’t sag. I walked through a field of tin. Pocked with holes. That was where the scrapyard began. Met my first person there, I tried to avoid it but would’ve had to leave the trail. It was a girl, fifteen, sixteen at most, raggedy-looking and scrawny. Her nails were chewed to the quick, I noticed that because she kept waving them in my face. Spit flying, she fired right at me: Seen Bašnák? Where is that guy? I gotta talk to him! I took a step back: I donno. Oh pardon me, she said … got any change? I stepped around her. Now I was deep in the Dump. Other trails crossed the one I was on, intersecting it. I saw piles of crates, all the same, some giant force had stacked them up. Some had burst open. All of em were the same, only some lay on their side, others end on end, I must’ve seen every combination. Broken sides, lids, bottoms. Bound in wire. It struck me this might be infinity. If I was a graphic artist, I’d make postcards from space like this, once we conquer it. Then I found a receptacle full of rotten lemons. Their greenish skins were coated with shiny insects and black flies. But some of em were whole, I stuffed them in my pockets.
I don’t know where they came from. Maybe they crawled out of some hole. There were three, and one said: Hit the road. Hit the fuckin road! I did as I was told. I’d heard about the Dump People. And after all, I was on one of their trails. There were stakes plunged into the greasy slop. I kept them to my left, I came to a pool buzzing with insects, walked past with my eyes and mouth shut. The sound alone was enough to make me itch all over. Maybe they were being born, maybe some of them were just leaving the ground for the first time. I wanted to get somewhere that didn’t belong to anyone. Assuming there was such a place here still. The Dump was filling up fast. I spotted the rusted-out skeleton of a bus with a sheet-metal chimney. Smoke coming out of it. A kid sitting on the steps. Laundry drying on clotheslines. I picked my way around them. Farther along were the machines. Some looked like monster bones, snarled and shattered. Doors, levers, wheels. I crawled under something that used to be a conveyor belt. Changed trails. Saw two old-timers squatting around a fire. A rusty pump bundled in rags looked to be all that was left of the old setup. Water was boiling in a big tin can. One of the old gents had a dog on a leash. It barked at me. I took a trail at random. I was afraid of sinking in, into something I’d never heard of. They could’ve had fake trails too, for people that had no business here. If I lived here, I would. Even the Dump can’t be bottomless, it’s not for everyone. A heap shifted under me, I tumbled into a burst of colors. Plastic bags and packages. Of juice. Multivitamin Nectar. There must’ve been millions of them.
I came to a spot where there was nobody else. Couldn’t see the ground. Just paper and plastic, but it didn’t stink. There weren’t even flies here. In most parts of the Dump it reeked, some spots it was pungent, others it was sour. I came to a metal fence. On the other side, the Dump stretched into the distance. The fence was hidden between the heaps, I’d found it by accident. Alongside it were barrels, a whole row. Painted yellow but peeling now. A corrugated metal roof was set up in one spot, the kind they use for bus stops. I crawled underneath. The barrels were lying on top of sacks, I yanked them out. It was getting dark. I ate the lemons. Then wrapped myself up in the sacks and watched. It started to drizzle, I crept back under the roof. Heard laughter and conversation. At first I thought it was just in my head, but then I made out the flicker of flames. It was far away, the wind carried the sounds to me.
The next day I found some boards in the scrapyard. Sniffed, they smelled like tar, I made a wall out of them. Near the barrels there were also some sacks of hardened cement. When I did construction I used to flip those things onto my back no problem. Now it took me hours to stack them up. Then I took a long break. That evening they were back by the fire. I had to go. I was hungry and thirsty.
You wanna stay, I don’t see why not, don’t make no difference to nobody else, said Vulture, tugging his beard. We even winter here. Jus find yerself a stove. Foxy tossed some planks on the fire. They started it with gasoline. An Jasuda’s comin tomorrow, boy’re you gonna feast. Vulture handed me a piece of bread. Stuff yerself.
The first thing that struck me about the bums … a few were obviously boozed-out derelicts, but all of them were dressed pretty normal. Vulture clued me in that they’d found it all at the Dump. Yup, wasn’t worth diddly till Jasuda come along. Even promised to build a shower! For the ladies. Ain’t too many a them though. Stick clambered down from the tractor and said: Forget the shower, wait’ll we get a proper rain, Dump’ll change. You’ll see! They even had wine, in cartons. Said there was hectoliters of it. Fermented red. But my body said: Enough. I took one sip and threw up. You sick? said Foxy. Everyone perked up their ears … cause if you’re real sick, like for real, then uh-uh, ya can’t be here … Vulture said earnestly, Mr. Jasuda looks out for that … otherwise we’d all end up sick … no, I’m not sick, just tired … Vulture threw a poncho over me … here, take it, he said … rains a lot out here, drizzles … you’re gonna need it. Cushy livin though, best home I ever had, best grub … an they’re always truckin stuff in. We got it easy here. An the Dump’ll be aroun long as all the rest of it is.
They told me where to come the next day. And to bring a sack.
That night I couldn’t sleep. It rained, drumming down on the metal, and to its rhythm I remembered … thinking and dreaming. That day I’d found a magazine. Inside it was an ad for some … movie or something … there was tension in the picture, I don’t know why I tore it out, and then an ad for spinach, You’ve never tasted better … it reminded me of Černá, what I’d told her. But maybe what I’d told her wasn’t true anymore … no, these things don’t go away, it’ll be there long as I live. I tore out that one too. There were tons of newspapers and magazines, floating around all over the place.
Jasuda. The trucks rolled up one by one. Dumped food into the pit. Turned around and drove off. Made room for the next. The pit was left over from something. Looked like an explosion. There were a few others like it down at that end of the Dump.
They clued me in around the fire, the stuff came from supermarkets, all expired, but lots of it wasn’t spoiled … and I saw … fish, lots of stiff fish with metallic eyes … chickens … and then packages, bright-colored packages with stuff inside … salamis … melons, then some fruits I didn’t recognize … doesn’t it rot down at the bottom? I said to someone’s back, but they didn’t even turn around … pheasant, fuck, I could go for a pheasant, said somebody else, and others began walking up, I spotted the girl I’d met the first day, she had to be crazy, laughing, didn’t belong to any crew, just laughing, wriggling in the mud that was left behind from the rains … I saw an old woman with a wheelbarrow … they started tossing meat into the pit out of the back of one of the trucks that didn’t have a tilt-up bed, and it was disgusting, the people around the pit fell silent … I saw half a pig, sheep’s heads, they were tossing sheep’s heads into the pit, one after the next … the meat covered over what was in the pit from before and flies began to swarm … I shuffled impatiently, even licked my lips, I noticed … my stomach was growling, but then the next truck came and the meat, the chunks of flesh, got buried under an avalanche of packages, yogurts, more salami … that’s Mr. Jasuda, Vulture nudged me with his elbow, on his head a Tyrolean cap with a feather … Jasuda strode around the pit, a tall guy in a suit, but with slippers on his feet and an umbrella in his hand, waving it around and rattling on, I couldn’t hear what about … we came too late, said Vulture mournfully, giving me another swipe of the elbow … when he points our way, move it! Jasuda waved his umbrella to a cluster of people who raced into the pit and began rummaging around, cramming food into sacks and bags, they didn’t have to fight over it, there was plenty for everyone … and then, I couldn’t believe my eyes or ears, Jasuda pulled out a silver whistle and gave a shrill blast, the people in the pit froze … slowly picked themselves up and walked off with their spoils, Jasuda gave the nod to another crew … hey, Vulture nudged me, old lady aksed me ta give ya this, we got no use for it … he handed me a jacket, dazzling … green, but a new shade, the kind of thing only skiers used to wear till it caught on, it was warm though, zipper and everything … I was taken with it … thanks, thanks a lot, it’s beautiful … Jasuda brought duds in once, liquidation … wasn’t sellin or whatever, no need for thanks … a lot of the people here had coats like mine, ski caps too … a commotion broke out by the pit, the girl was still in there scrounging around despite Jasuda’s emphatic whistle … Vulture grabs my elbow and says: That cow’s gonna ruin everything, oughta get rid a elements like her … if she gets Jasuda pissed, he could jus call the whole thing off, an with winter comin … damn, what’s that guy’s problem, blowin his whistle at me, I say … can it, pal, says Vulture, where do you think we’d be without Jasuda, he’s the one maintains aroun here, he’s the one keeps order, don’t ever say that again! … finally it was our turn, I crawled down into the pit with two other guys, the choice stuff was already gone, we stood on top of the slippery meat, passing up the stuff in packages, I stuck with Vulture’s crew, the people from the fire … the girl drifted in again, had to shove her out of my way … it was like one great big bowl of goulash … in there with the sheep’s heads, they made me sick to my stomach, hunks of flesh hanging off their throats, eyes shut … I snagged a head of lettuce, tossed up a bunch of rotten bananas … Stick suddenly staggered and slipped, reached out … I gave him a hand, and when I peeked up … Jasuda was looking right at me … a second ago I’d stuffed a piece of cheese in my pocket, packaged, hope he didn’t see me, maybe it’s not allowed … he didn’t say a word though, just smiled at the crazy girl … I flung up canned goods, Vulture collected them in a sack … I didn’t know how often the trucks came and I was afraid I’d hear the whistle … and I did … holding a chicken wrapped in foil, and as I raised my hand to toss it up I saw Jasuda again, tensely following me with his eyes, I put the chicken down … he smiled. Stick helped me up and together we dragged out the third, Míra they called him … c’mon up, I stretched my hand out to the girl, she sat on her haunches nibbling a stick of salami, covered with blood from the slaughtered animals, but so were all of us who’d been in the pit … Stick gave me a nudge, we gathered up the sacks and tied them shut. Just one truck left now, waiting I guess for Jasuda … le’s go, c’mon, gimme a hand, said Vulture, wrestling a sack onto his back. We were almost the last ones left on the trail, we had a pretty long walk ahead of us … my sack was heavy … wait, Vulture … he didn’t mind me calling him that … what about the girl? Who, that cow? … she’ll stay. What? That’s right, an he’ll be there too … he’ll wait! What’s he gonna do to her? Hey, c’mon … ya can pick up a water bottle over at our place, got no water there where you are. Wait, Vulture … who is that guy, who is he? That’s Mr. Jasuda. Nobody knows where he’s from. An stop askin questions aready, we got a lot to be thankful for.
