In Dubious Battle (32 page)

“You’re forgetting the whole picture,” Jim said.

Mac sighed. “I thought I was a tough baby, but you’re a hell of a lot tougher. I hope I don’t get to hate you. You better sleep in the hospital tent, Jim. There’s an extra cot, and I don’t want you sleeping on the ground until you feel better. Why don’t you eat?”

Jim looked down at the can. “Forgot it, and I’m hungry, too.” He picked up a piece of boiled beef out of the beans and gnawed it. “You better get some yourself,” he said.

“Yeah, I’m going now.”

After he had gone, Jim quickly ate the beans, the big oval, golden beans. He speared three of them at a time on a sharpened stick, and when they were gone tilted the can and drank the juice. “Tastes good, doesn’t it,” he said to Lisa.

“Yeah. I always like limey beans. Don’t need nothing but salt. Salt pork’s better.”

“The men are quiet, awfully quiet.”

“They got their mouths full,” said the girl. “Always talkin’, except their mouths’ full. Always talkin’. If they got to fight, why don’ they fight an’ get it over, ’stead o’ talkin’?”

“This is a strike,” Jim said defensively.

“Even you talk all the time,” she said. “Talk don’t turn no wheel.”

“Sometimes it gets steam up to turn ’em, Lisa.”

London came in, and stood picking his teeth with a sharpened match. The bald spot in his tonsure shone dully in the lamplight. “I been watchin’ all over the country,” he said. “Ain’t seen no fire yet. Mebbe they caught Sam.”

“He was a clever guy,” said Jim. “The other day he knocked over a checker, and the checker had a gun, too.”

“Oh, he’s smart all right. Smart like a snake. Sam’s a rattlesnake, only he don’t never rattle. He went out alone, didn’t take nobody with him.”

“All the better. If he gets caught, he’s just a nut. If three guys got caught, it’d be a plot, see?”

“I hope he don’t get caught, Jim. He’s a nice guy, I like him.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Mac came back in with his can of food. “Jesus I’m hungry. I didn’t know it till I got the first bite. Have enough to eat, Jim?”

“Sure. Why don’t the men build fires to sit by? They did last night.”

“They got no wood,” said London. “I made ’em put all the wood over by the stoves.”

“Well, what makes ’em so quiet? You can hardly hear a thing,” Jim said. “It’s all quiet.”

Mac mused, “It’s damn funny about a bunch of men, how they act. You can’t tell. I always thought if a guy watched close enough he might get to know what they’re goin’ to do. They get steamed up, an’ then, all of a sudden, they’re scared as hell. I think this whole damn camp is scared. Word’s got out that Doc’s been snatched. An’ they’re scared to be without ’im. They go an’ take a look at the guy with the busted ankle, an’ then they walk away. An’ then, pretty soon, they go an’ take a look at ’im again. He’s all covered with sweat, he hurts so bad.” Mac gnawed at a beef bone, tearing the white gristle with his teeth.

Jim asked, “D’you suppose anybody knows?”

“Knows what?”

“How a bunch o’ guys’ll act.”

“Maybe London knows. He’s been bossin’ men all his life. How about it, London?”

London shook his head. “No,” he said. “I’ve saw a bunch of guys run like rabbits when a truck back-fired. Other times, seems like nothin’ can scare ’em. Y’can kind of feel what’s goin’ to happen before it starts, though.”

“I know,” said Mac. “The air gets full of it. I saw a nigger lynched one time. They took him about a quarter of a mile to a railroad over-pass. On th’ way out that crowd killed a little dog, stoned it to death. Ever’body just picked up rocks. The air was just full of killin’. Then they wasn’t satisfied to hang the nigger. They had to burn ’im an’ shoot ’im, too.”

“Well I ain’t lettin’ nothin’ like that get started in this camp,” London said.

Mac advised, “Well, if it does start, you better stand out of the way. Listen, there’s a sound.”

There was a tramp of feet outside the tent, almost a military rhythm. “London in there?”

“Yeah. What do you want?”

“We got a guy out here.”

“What kind of a guy?” A man came in, carrying a Winchester carbine. London said, “Ain’t you one of the guys I left to guard that house?”

“Yes. Only three of us came over. We saw this fellow moving around, and we kind of got around him and caught him.”

“Well, who is it?”

“I don’t know. He had this gun. The guys wanted to
beat hell out of him, but I says we better bring him here, so we done it. We got him outside, tied up.”

London looked at Mac, and Mac nodded toward Lisa. London said, “You better get out, Lisa.”

She got slowly to her feet. “Where I’m goin’ to go?”

“I don’t know. Where’s Joey?”

“Talkin’ to a guy,” said Lisa. “This guy wrote to a school that’s goin’ to get him to be a postman. Joey, he wants to be a postman too, so he’s talkin’ to this guy about it.”

“Well, you go an’ find some woman an’ set with her.”

Lisa shrugged up the baby on her hip and went out of the tent. London took the rifle from the man and threw down the lever. A loaded shell flipped out. “Thirty-thirty,” said London. “Bring the guy in.”

“O.K. Bring him in.” Two guards pushed the prisoner through the flaps. He stumbled and recovered his balance. His elbows were bound together behind him with a belt, and his wrists were wrapped together with baling wire. He was very young. His body was thin and his shoulders narrow. He was dressed in corduroy trousers, a blue shirt and a short leather jacket. His light blue eyes were fixed with terror.

“Hell,” said London. “It’s a kid.”

“Kid with a thirty-thirty,” Mac added. “Can I talk to him, London?”

“Sure. Go ahead.”

Mac stepped in front of the captive. “What are you doin’ out there?”

The boy swallowed painfully. “I wasn’t doing a thing.” His voice was a whisper.

“Who sent you?”

“Nobody.”

Mac struck him in the face with his open hand. The head jerked sideways, and an angry red spot formed on the white, beardless cheek. “Who sent you?”

“Nobody.” The open hand struck again, harder. The boy lurched, tried to recover and fell on his shoulder.

Mac reached down and pulled him to his feet again. “Who sent you?”

The boy was crying. Tears rolled down his nose, into his bleeding mouth. “The fellows at school said we ought to.”

“High school?”

“Yes. An’ the men in the street said somebody ought to.”

“How many of you came out?”

“Six of us.”

“Where did the rest go?”

“I don’t know, mister. Honest, I lost ’em.”

Mac’s voice was monotonous. “Who burned the barn?”

“I don’t know.” This time Mac struck with a closed fist. The blow flung the slight body against the tent-pole. Mac jerked him up again. The boy’s eye was closed and cut.

“Be careful about that ’don’t know? business. Who burned the barn?”

The boy could not speak; his sobs choked him. “Don’t hit me, mister. Some fellows at the pool room said it would be a good thing. They said Anderson was a radical.”

“All right, now. Did you kids see anything of our doctor?”

The boy looked at him helplessly. “Don’t hit me, mister. I don’t know. We didn’t see anybody.”

“What were you going to do with the gun?”

“Sh—sh-shoot through the tents an’ try to scare you.”

Mac smiled coldly. He turned to London. “Got any ideas what to do with him?”

“Oh hell,” said London. “He’s just a kid.”

“Yes, a kid with a thirty-thirty. Can I still have him, London?”

“What you want to do with him?”

“I want to send him back to high school so no more kids with rifles will come out.”

Jim sat on the mattress and watched. Mac said, “Jim, you gave me hell about losing my head a little while ago. I’m not losing it now.”

“It’s O.K. if you’re cold,” said Jim.

“I’m a sharpshooter,” Mac said. “You feeling sorry for the kid, Jim?”

“No, he’s not a kid, he’s an example.”

“That’s what I thought. Now listen, kid. We can throw you out to the guys there, but they’ll probably kill you. Or we can work you over in here.”

The one open eye glared with fear.

“O.K. with you, London?”

“Don’t hurt him too much.”

“I want a billboard,” said Mac, “Not a corpse. All right, kid. I guess you’re for it.” The boy tried to retreat. He bent down, trying to cower. Mac took him firmly by the shoulder. His right fist worked in quick, short hammer blows, one after another. The nose cracked flat, the other eye closed, and the dark bruises formed on the cheeks. The boy jerked about wildly to escape the short, precise strokes. Suddenly the torture stopped. “Untie him,” Mac
said. He wiped his bloody fist on the boy’s leather jacket. “It didn’t hurt much,” he said. “You’ll show up pretty in high school. Now shut up your bawling. Tell the kids in town what’s waitin’ for ’em.”

“Shall I wash his face?” London asked.

“Hell, no! I do a surgeon’s job, and you want to spoil it. You think I liked it?”

“I don’t know,” said London.

The prisoner’s hands were free now. He sobbed softly. Mac said, “Listen to me, kid. You aren’t hurt bad. Your nose is busted, but that’s all. If anybody here but me did it, you’d of been hurt bad. Now you tell your little playmates that the next one gets his leg broke, and the next one after that gets both his legs broke. Get me——? I said, did you get me?”

“Yes.”

“O.K. Take him down the road and turn him loose.” The guards took the boy under the arms and helped him out of the tent. Mac said, “London, maybe you better put out patrols to see if there’s any more kiddies with cannons.”

“I’ll do it,” said London. He had kept his eyes on Mac the whole time, watching him with horror. “Jesus, you’re a cruel bastard, Mac. I can unda’stand a guy gettin’ mad an’ doin’ it, but you wasn’t mad.”

“I know,” Mac said wearily. “That’s the hardest part.” He stood still, smiling his cold smile, until London went out of the tent; and then he walked to the mattress and sat down and clutched his knees. All over his body the muscles shuddered. His face was pale and grey. Jim put his good hand over and took him by the wrist. Mac said wearily, “I couldn’t of done it if you weren’t here, Jim.
Oh, Jesus, you’re hard-boiled. You just looked. You didn’t give a damn.”

Jim tightened his grip on Mac’s wrist. “Don’t worry about it,” he said quietly. “It wasn’t a scared kid, it was a danger to the cause. It had to be done, and you did it right. No hate, no feeling, just a job. Don’t worry.”

“If I could only of let his hands go, so he could take a pop at me once in a while, or cover up a little.”

“Don’t think of it,” Jim said. “It’s just a little part of the whole thing. Sympathy is as bad as fear. That was like a doctor’s work. It was an operation, that’s all. I’d done it for you if I wasn’t bunged up. S’pose the guys outside had him?”

“I know,” Mac agreed. “They’d butchered him. I hope they don’t catch anybody else; I couldn’t do it again.”

“You’d have to do it again,” said Jim.

Mac looked at him with something of fear in his eyes. “You’re getting beyond me, Jim. I’m getting scared of you. I’ve seen men like you before. I’m scared of ’em. Jesus, Jim, I can see you changing every day. I know you’re right. Cold thought to fight madness, I know all that. God Almighty, Jim, it’s not human. I’m scared of you.”

Jim said softly, “I wanted you to use me. You wouldn’t because you got to like me too well.” He stood up and walked to a box and sat down on it. “That was wrong. Then I got hurt. And sitting here waiting, I got to know my power. I’m stronger than you, Mac. I’m stronger than anything in the world, because I’m going in a straight line. You and all the rest have to think of women and tobacco and liquor and keeping warm and fed.” His eyes were as cold as wet river stones. “I wanted to be used.
Now I’ll use you, Mac. I’ll use myself and you. I tell you, I feel there’s strength in me.”

“You’re nuts,” said Mac. “How’s your arm feel? Any swelling? Maybe the poison got into your system.”

“Don’t think it, Mac,” Jim said quietly. “I’m not crazy. This is real. It has been growing and growing. Now it’s all here. Go out and tell London I want to see him. Tell him to come in here. I’ll try not to make him mad, but he’s got to take orders.”

Mac said, “Jim, maybe you’re not crazy. I don’t know. But you’ve got to remember London is the chairman of this strike, elected. He’s bossed men all his life. You start telling him what to do, and he’ll throw you to the lions.” He looked uneasily at Jim.

“Better go and tell him,” said Jim.

“Now listen——’

“Mac, you want to obey. You better do it.”

They heard a low wail, and then the rising scream of a siren, and then another and another, rising and falling, far away. “It’s Sam,” Mac cried. “He’s set his fire.”

Jim scrambled up. Mac said, “You better stay there. You’re too weak, Jim.”

Jim laughed mirthlessly. “You’re going to find out how weak I am.” He walked to the entrance and went out, and Mac followed him.

To the north the starred sky was black over the trees. In the direction of Torgas the city lights threw a pale glow into the sky. To the left of the town, over the high rampart of trees, the new fire put a dome of red light over itself. Now the sirens screamed together, and now one was up while another sunk its voice to a growl. “They don’t waste any time now,” Mac said.

The men came tumbling out of the tents and stood looking at the rising fire. The flames broke over the trees, and the dome of light spread and climbed. “A good start,” Mac said. “If they put it out now, the house’ll be ruined anyway. They can’t use anything but chemicals out that far.”

London hurried over to them. “He done it!” London cried. “Christ, he’s a mean guy. I knew he’d do it. He wasn’t scared of nothing.”

Jim said calmly, “We can use him, if he comes back.”

“Use him?” London asked.

“Yes, a man who could give a fire that good a start could do other things. It’s burning fine. London, come into the tent. We’ve got to figure some things out.”

Mac broke in, “What he means, London——”

“I’ll tell him what I mean. Come into the tent, London.” Jim led the way inside and seated himself on a box.