Call It Sleep (62 page)

“Bennee stay by me!”

      “
Is
'e boined! Look at his shoe!”

    “Oy, de pooh mama! De pooh mama!”

          “Who's kid?”

“Don' know, Mack!”

    “Huz pushin'?”

“Jesus! Take 'im to a drug-store.”

“Naa, woik on 'im right here. I woiked in a power house!”

“Do sompt'n! Do sompt'n!”

The writhing dipper was now almost consumed. Before the flaring light, the weird white-lipped, staring faces of the milling throng wheeled from chalk to soot and soot to chalk again—like masks of flame that charred and were rekindled; and all their frantic, gnarling bodies cut a darting splay of huge, impinging shadow, on dump-heap, warehouse, river and street—

Klang! The trolley drew up.

“Oyeee! Ers toit! Ers to-i-t! Oye-e-e-e!” A woman screamed, gagged, fainted.

“Hey! Ketch 'er!”

    “Schleps aveck!”

      “Wat d' hell'd she do dat fer—”

    “Vawdeh!”

They dragged her away on scuffing heels to one side.

“Shit!” The motorman had jumped down from the car and seized the broom—

          “Fan 'er vid de het!”

      “Git off me feet, you!”

“At's it! Lean on 'im O'Toole! Push 'im down! At's it! At's it! I woiked in a power house—”

And with the broom straws the motorman flipped the mangled metal from the rail. A quake! As if leviathan leaped for the hook and fell back threshing. And darkness.

Darkness!

They grunted, the masses, stood suddenly mute a moment, for a moment silent, stricken, huddled, crushed by the pounce of ten-fold night. And a voice spoke, strained, shrunken, groping—

“Ey, paizon! She 'sa whita yet—lika you looka da slacka lime alla time! You know?”

Someone shrieked. The fainting woman moaned. The crowd muttered, whispered, seething uneasily in the dark, welcomed the loud newcomers who pierced the dense periphery—

“One side! One side!” Croaking with authority, the stone-grim uniformed one shouldered his way through. “One side!”

“De cops!”

    “Dun't step on 'im!”

“Back up youz! Back up! Didja hea' me, Moses? Back up! Beat it! G'wan!” They fell back before the perilous arc of the club. “G'wan before I fan yiz! Back up! Let's see sompt'n' in hea'! Move! Move, I say!” Artificial ire flung the spittle on his lips. “Hey George!” He flung at a burly one. “Give us a hand hea, will yiz!”

“Sure! Git back you! Pete! Git that other side!”

The policeman wheeled round, squatted down beside the black-shirted one. “Don' look boined.”

“Jist his shoe.”

“How long wuz he on?”

“Christ! I don't know. I came ouda Callahan's an' de foist t'ing I know somebody lams a broom out of a winder, an' I grabs it an' shoves 'im off de fuck'n t'ing—”

“Sh! Must a done it himself— Naa! Dat ain't de way! Lemme have 'im.” He pushed the other aside, turned the child over on his face. “Foist aid yuh gits 'em hea.” His bulky hands all but encompassed the narrow waist. “Like drownin', see?” He squeezed,

Khir-r-r-r-f! S-s-s-s-.

    “I hoid 'im!”

“Yeah!”

      “He's meckin' him t' breed!”

“See? Gits de air in 'im.”

      Khir-r-r-r-f! S-s-s-s.

“Looks like he's gone, do. W'ere de hell's dat ambillance?”

    “Vee culled id a'reddy, Ufficeh!”

“Arh!”

    “Rap 'im on de feet arficer, I woiked

in a power—”

    Khir-r-r-r-f! S-s-s-s

“Anybody know 'im? Any o' youz know dis kid?”

The inner and the craning semi-circle muttered blankly. The policeman rested his ear against the child's back.

“Looks like he's done fer, butchuh can't tell—”

Khir-r-r-r-f! S-s-s-s.

    “He sez he's dead, Mary.”

“Dead!”

“Oy! Toit!”

“Gott sei donk, id's nod mine Elix—”

Khir-r-r-r-f. S-s-s-s.

“Sit im helfin vie a toitin bankis.” The squat shirt-sleeved Jew whose tight belt cut his round belly into the letter B turned to the lime-streaked wop—squinted, saw that communication had failed. “It'll help him like cups on a cawps,” he translated—and tapped his chest with an ace of spades.

Khi-r-r-r-f. S-s-s-s.

(
E-e-e-e. E-e-e-e-.

One ember fanned … dulling … uncertain
)

“Here's the damned thing he threw in, Cap.” The motorman shook off the crowd, held up the thinned and twisted metal.

“Yea! Wot is it?”

“Be damned if I know. Hot! Jesus!”

Khir-r-r-f. S-s-s.

(
E-e-e-e-e.

Like the red pupil of the eye of darkness, the ember

dilated, spun like a pinwheel, expanding, expanding,

till at the very core, a white flaw rent the scarlet

tissue and spread, engulfed the margin like a stain—
)

“Five hundred an' fifty volts. What a wallop!”

“He's cooked, yuh t'ink?”

“Yea. Jesus! What else!”

“Unh!” The policeman was grunting now with his efforts.

    Kh-i-r-r-r-f! S-s-s-s.

      “Hey, Meester, maybe he fell on id—

      De iron—”

      “Sure, dot's righd!”

    “Id's f'om de compeny de fault!”

“Ass, how could he fall on it, fer the love O Jesus!”

The motor-man turned on them savagely.

    “He could! Id's easy!”

“Id vuz stink—stick—sticken oud!”

      “He'll sue, dun' vorry!”

“Back up, youz!”

Khi-r-r-r-f! S-s-s.

(
Eee-e-e-e

And in the white, frosty light within

the red iris, a small figure slanted

through a desolate street, crack-paved,

rut-guttered, slanted and passed, and

overhead the taut, wintry wires whined

on their crosses—

E-e-e-e-e.

They whined, spanning the earth and sky.

—Go-d-d-b! Go-o-o-ob! G-o-o-b! G'bye!…
)

“Makin' a case fer a shyster. C'n yuh beat it!”

“Ha-a-ha! Hunh!”

    “I'm late. Dere it is.” The motorman dropped the gnarled and blackened dipper beside the curb.

      “An Irisher chuchim!”

      “Ain't it a dirty shame—”

“Noo vud den!”

“Wat's happened, chief?”

      “Dere give a look!”

“Let's git troo dere!”

“Unh!”

Kh-i-r-r-r-f! S-s-s-s.

(
—G'by-e-e. Mis-s-s-l-e. M-s-ter. Hi-i-i-i.

Wo-o-o-d.

And a man in a tugboat, hair under

arm-pits, hung from a pole among the

wires, his white undershirt glittering.

He grinned and whistled and with every

note yellow birds flew to the roof.
)

“T'ink a shot o' sompt'n' 'll do 'im any good?”

“Nuh! Choke 'im if he's alive.”

    “Yeh! If hiz alife!”

      “W'ea's 'e boined?”

    “Dey say id's de feet wid de hen's wid eveytingk.”

“Unh!”

Khi-r-r-r-f! S-s-s-s.

(
We-e-e-e-

The man in the wires stirred. The

Wires twanged brightly. The blithe

and golden cloud of birds filled the

sky.
)

“Unh!”

(
Klang!

The milk tray jangled. Leaping he

neared. From roof-top to roof-top,

over streets, over alley ways, over

areas and lots, his father soared with

a feathery ease. He set the trays

down, stooped as if searching, paused—
)

“Unh!”

(
A hammer! A hammer! He snarled,

brandished it, it snapped like a whip.

The birds vanished. Horror thickened

the air.
)

“Unh!”

    “He's woikin' hard!”

“Oy! Soll im Gott helfin!”

      “He no waka.”

(
Around him now, the cobbles stretched

away. Stretched away in the swirling

dark like the faces of a multitude aghast

and frozen
)

“Unh!”

(
W-e-e-e-e-e-p! Weep! Overhead the

brandished hammer whirred and whistled.

The doors of a hallway slowly opened.

Buoyed up by the dark, a coffin drifted

out, floated down the stoop, and while

confetti rained upon it, bulged and

billowed—
)

“Unh!”

Khi-r-r-r-rf! S-s-s-s-

(
—Zwank! Zwank! Zwank!

The man in the wires writhed and

groaned, his slimy, purple chicken-

guts slipped through his fingers.

David touched his lips. The soot

came off on his hand. Unclean.

Screaming, he turned to flee, seized

a wagon wheel to climb upon it. There

were no spokes—only cogs like a

clock-wheel. He screamed again, beat

the yellow disk with his fists.
)

“Unh!”

Kh-i-r-r-rf! S-s-s-s.

    “Didja see it?”

“See it? Way up on twelft'!”

“I could ivin see id in de houz—on de cods.”

“Me? I vas stand in basement—fok t'ing mack blind!”

    “Five hundred an' fifty volts.”

(
As if on hinges, blank, enormous

mirrors arose, swung slowly upward

face to face. Within the facing

glass, vast panels deployed, lifted a

steady wink of opaque pages until

an endless corridor dwindled into

night.
)

“Unh! Looks Jewish t' me.”

“Yeah, map o' Jerusalem, all right.”

“Poor bastard! Unh!”

“Couldn't see him at foist!”

“Unh!”

Kh-ir-r-rf! S-s-s-s.

(
“You!” Above the whine of the

whirling hammer, his father's voice

thundered. “You!”

David wept, approached the glass,

peered in. Not himself was there,

not even in the last and least of

the infinite mirrors, but the cheder

wall, the cheder
)

“Junheezis!”

Kh-i-r-r-rf! S-s-s-s.

(
Wall sunlit, white-washed. “Chadgodya!”

moaned the man in the wires. “One

kid one only kid.” And the wall dwindled

and was a square of pavement with a foot-

print in it—half green, half black,

“I too have trodden there.” And

shrank within the mirror, and the

cake of ice melted in the panel be-

yond. “Eternal years,” the voice

wailed, “Not even he.”
)

“Unh!”

“Gittin' winded? Want me to try it?”

“Nunh!”

“Look at 'im sweat!”

    “Vy not? Soch a coat he's god on!”

      “Wot happened, brother?”

      “Cheh! He esks yet!”

“Back up, you!”

“Unh!”

Kh-i-r-r-r-f! S-s-s-s.

(
And faded, revealing a shoe box full

of calendar leaves, “the red day must

come.”
)

“Unh! Did he move or sumpt'n?”

“Couldn't see.”

(
which lapsed into a wooden box with

a sliding cover like the chalk-boxes

in school, whereon a fiery figure

sat astride a fish. “G-e-e-e o-o-o d-e-e-e-!”

The voice spelled out. And shrank and was

a cube of sugar gripped be-
)

“Unh!”

Kh-i-r-r-r-f! S-s-s-s.

    “Shah! Y'hea id?”

      “W'a?”

    “Yea! It's commin!”

      “Id's commin'!”

      “I sees it!”

“Meester Politsman de—”

    “Back up, youz!”

A faint jangle seeped through the roar of the crowd.

“Unh!”

(
tween the softly glowing tongs. “So

wide we stretch no further—” But when

he sought to peer beyond, suddenly the

mirrors shifted, and—

“Go down!” his father's voice thun-

dered, “Go down!” The mirrors lay

beneath him now; what were the groins

now jutted out in stairs, concentric

ogives, bottomless steps. “Go down!

Go down!” The inexorable voice beat

like a hand upon his back. He