In Dubious Battle (37 page)

London’s face paled, and his shoulders dropped. With a roar he charged the unresisting crowd, flung men aside, burrowed through the mass of men. He came to the stand and grasped the hand-rail. As he pulled himself up, Burke kicked at his head, missed, struck the shoulder and tore one hand loose from the rail. London roared again. He was under the rail and on his feet. Burke struck at his face, and missed. And then, with the terrible smooth speed of a heavy man, London lanced with his left hand and, as Burke ducked, the great right fist caught him on the side of the jaw, lifted him clear, and dropped him. His head hung over the edge of the platform, broken jaw torn sideways, shattered teeth hanging loosely between his lips. A thin stream of blood flowed from his mouth, beside his nose and eye, and disappeared into his hair.

London stood, panting, over him, looking down. He raised his head slowly. “Does any more sons-of-bitches think I double-crossed ’em?”

The men nearest Burke’s hanging head stared, fascinated. From the other sides of the stared the people began to mill, to press in, standing on tip-toes for a look. Their eyes were bright and angry. A man said, “Bust his jaw clean off. That’s blood out o’ his brain.” Another shouted hysterically, “Killed ’um. Busted his head off.”

Women swam through the crowd and looked woodenly at the hanging head. A heavy, sobbing gasp went up from the mob. The eyes flared. All the shoulders were dropped, and the arms bowed dangerously. London still stood panting, but his face was perplexed. He looked down at his fist, at the split and bleeding knuckles. Then he looked
out over the crowd for help, and he saw Jim standing on the outskirts. Jim shook his clasped hands together over his head. And then he pointed to the road, where the cars stood, and down the road, and to the cars again, and down the road again. London looked back at the snarling mob. The perplexity left his face and he scowled.

“All right, you guys,” he yelled. “Why ain’t I done nothing? Because you ain’t helped me. But by Christ, now you’re ready! Nothin’ can stop you now.” A long, throaty animal howl went up. London held up his hands. “Who’ll follow now, and knock hell out o’ that barricade?” The crowd was changing rapidly. The eyes of the men and women were entranced. The bodies weaved slowly, in unison. No more lone cries came from lone men. They moved together, looked alike. The roar was one voice, coming from many throats.

“Some of you bring cars,” London shouted. “Come on, the rest of you. Come on, we’ll see. Come, come on.” He vaulted down from the stand and fought his way through to the head of the mob. Quickly the cars were started. The crowd poured into the road, and it was no longer loose and listless. It had become a quick, silent and deadly efficient machine. It swung down the road at a dog-trot, controlled and directed. And behind it the cars moved slowly along.

Jim had watched the start. He commanded himself aloud, “Don’t get caught. Don’t get caught. Don’t let it catch you. Use your head.”

Most of the women were running with the departing men, but a few who remained behind looked strangely at Jim, for his eyes, too, were entranced as he stared down the road after the terrible mechanism. When it had disappeared he sighed shudderingly and turned away. His hand
went up to the hurt shoulder and pressed it, to make a steadying pain. He walked slowly to London’s tent, went in silently, and sat down on a box.

Mac looked at him under lowered eyelids. Only a shiny slit showed that he was awake. “How long’ve I been sleeping, Jim?”

“Just a little while. I don’t think it’s even noon yet, near noon.”

“I dreamed a lot, but I’m rested. I think I’ll get up now.”

“Better get some more sleep if you can.”

“What’s the use? I’m rested now.” He opened his eyes wide. “Lost the sandy feeling. You sleep hard when you’re that tired. I dreamed commotion.”

“Better go to sleep again.”

“No.” He sat up and stretched. “Anything happen while I was asleep? It’s awful quiet out there.”

“Plenty happened,” Jim said. “Burke tried to kick London out, and London smashed him—nearly killed him, and—Christ! I forgot Burke.” He ran to the door, and around the back to the tent, and looked toward the stand. Then he went into the tent again. “Somebody took him in,” he said.

Mac was up now, and excited. “Tell me.”

“Well, when the crowd saw the blood they went nuts, and London started ’em down to break the barricade.”

Mac cried, “Didn’t I tell you? They need blood. That works. That’s what I told you. Well then—what?”

“They’re down there now. God, Mac, you ought to of seen them. It was like all of them disappeared, and it was just one big—animal, going down the road. Just all one
animal. I nearly was there. I wanted to go, and then I thought, ‘You can’t. You’ve got to use your head.’”

“Right!” said Mac. “People think a mob is wasteful, but I’ve seen plenty; and I tell you, a mob with something it wants to do is just about as efficient as trained soldiers, but tricky. They’ll knock that barricade, but then what? They’ll want to do something else before they cool off.” And he went on, “That’s right, what you said. It
is
a big animal. It’s different from the men in it. And it’s stronger than all the men put together. It doesn’t want the same things men want—it’s like Doc said—and we don’t know what it’ll do.”

“It’ll get that barricade,” said Jim.

“That’s not what I mean. The
animal
don’t want the barricade. I don’t know what it wants. Trouble is, guys that study people always think it’s men, and it isn’t men. It’s a different kind of animal. It’s as different from men as dogs are. Jim, it’s swell when we can use it, but we don’t know enough. When it gets started it might do anything.” His face was alive and excited, and slightly fearful.

Jim said, “Listen, I think I hear——” He ran to the entrance. “Coming back,” he cried. “It’s different now. It’s spread out now, not the same.”

Mac stood beside him. The road was full of the returning men. London broke out ahead and trotted heavily toward them. And when he came near enough he yelled, “Get back in the tent. Get back in the tent.”

“What’s he mean?” Jim asked. But Mac pushed him inside the tent, untied the strings and dropped the flaps.

“He knows,” Mac said. “Just keep quiet and let him handle it. No matter what happens, don’t go out there.”

They heard the rain of footsteps on the ground, and
shouting voices. Then they saw London’s squat black shadow on the canvas and heard him yell, “Now you guys cool off.”

“We’ll show ’im who’s yellow bastards!”

London cried, “You’re sore because we told you off. Now you go an’ get a drink an’ cool down. You just done fine, but you ain’t a’gonna get my friend. He’s your friend, too. I tell you he’s been workin’ for you till he’s dead tired.”

Mac and Jim, in the tent, could feel the thrust change, break up, lose itself in a hundred cries. “We know, London.”

“Sure, but he called us yellow.”

Mac’s breath came out, heavily. “That was close, Jim. Jesus, that was close.” London’s square shadow still stood on the tent wall, but the many excited voices drifted and lost their impact.

London stretched the subject. “If any of you guys think I got canned peaches, you can come in and look.”

“Hell, no, London. We never thought that.”

“It was that son-of-a-bitch Burke.”

“He’s been workin’ against you, London. I heard him.”

“Well, you guys clear out, then. I got work to do.” The shadow stayed still on the tent wall until the voices had dwindled until no crowd faced the tent. London lifted the flap and stepped tiredly inside.

“Thanks,” said Mac. “You don’t know how close it was any better than I do. You handled ’em, London. Oh, you handled ’em.”

London said, “I was scared. You won’t think no worse of me, Mac, for that. On the way back I caught myself
wantin’ to come an’ kill you myself.” He grinned. “I don’t know why.”

“Nobody does,” said Mac. “But that’s the way it is. Tell us what happened down the road.”

“We ironed ’em out,” said London. “We just rolled over ’em like they wasn’t there. They give us the gas, an’ some of the guys coughed an’ cried, but, hell, them green cops didn’t stand a chance. Some of ’em got away—I guess most of ’em did. But the rest of ’em got kicked to pieces like cheese. God, the guys was sore.”

“Any shooting?”

“No. Too quick for ’em. They shot over us, thought we’d stop, I guess. But we come right on. Some cops like to shoot guys, but most of ’em don’t, I guess. An’ then we just rolled ’em out, an’ tore down the barricade.”

“Well, did the cars get out?”

“Hell, yes, eight of ’em went through, loaded with guys cuttin’ hell loose.”

“Kill any of the cops?” Mac demanded.

“Huh? Kill ’em? I don’t know. I didn’t look. Maybe we did. We might of. I bet machine-guns wouldn’t of stopped us.”

“That’s swell,” said Mac. “If we could turn on the heat like that when we wanted it, and turn it off when we were through, we’d have our God damn revolution tomorrow, and all over tomorrow night. The guys got over it pretty quick.”

“It was all that runnin’ that did it,” London said. “Damn near a mile. Time they got back, they was clear winded. I feel sick myself. I ain’t used to runnin’.”

“I know,” said Mac. “It’s not the running, so much, though. A thing like that gets you all messed up inside.
I bet a lot of the guys are losing their breakfast right now.”

London seemed suddenly to see Jim. He went over and banged him a clap on the back. “You pulled it, Jim. I was standin’ up there after I cold-cocked Burke; I didn’t know what the hell to do. An’ them guys in the circle didn’t know what to do, neither. They was all ready to get me, or anybody. An’ I look out, and I seen you pointin’, an’ I know what to do with ’em.”

Jim’s face was alight with pleasure. “I’m not much use, with my bum shoulder. I was thinking what Mac said about a little blood setting the guys off. You remember saying that, Mac?”

“Sure I remember. But I’m not sure I would of thought of it out there. I don’t know how you do it, Jim. Everybody loses their head except you. I heard about your old man; he wasn’t a genius, all he knew was fight. I don’t know where you learned to use your bean and keep clear.”

“I’ve got to be some use,” Jim said. “My father was like you say, but my mother was so cool she’d make you shiver.”

London flexed his hand at his side, and then he looked in astonishment at his crushed knuckles. “Holy Christ! Look at that!”

“You sure smashed ’em,” said Mac.

“I smashed ’em on that son-of-a-bitch Burke. How is he, Jim? Felt like I knocked his head clear off when I socked ’im.”

Jim said, “I don’t know how he is. Somebody took ’im off the stand.”

“Guess I better see,” said London. “Funny I never felt that hand till now.”

“When you get mixed up with the animal, you never feel anything,” said Mac.

“What animal?”

“Oh, it’s just a kind of a joke. Be a good idea if you look at Burke. And see how the guys feel. They’ll feel pretty rocky by now, I think.”

London said, “I don’t trust ’em no more. I can’t tell what they’ll do no more. I’m glad I wasn’t back of that barricade.”

Mac said, “Well, I’m glad you was in front of this tent. Jim an’ me might be hangin’ up on an apple tree by now.”

“There was a minute there——” said London. He gathered the tent-flaps and tied them back. The sun did not enter the tent, it had passed its meridian. Mac and Jim watched London walk away, and then they faced each other again. Mac flopped down on the mattress. Jim looked at him until Mac said, “You accusing me of something?”

“No, I was just wondering—seems to me now we’ve won a fight an’ got our guys through we’re more in danger of losing than ever. We came out here to do something, Mac. Have we messed up everything?”

Mac said sharply, “You think we’re too important, and this little bang-up is too important. If the thing blew up right now it’d be worth it. A lot of the guys’ve been believing this crap about the noble American working-man, an’ the partnership of capital and labor. A lot of ’em are straight now. They know how much capital thinks of ’em, and how quick capital would poison ’em like a bunch of ants. An’ by Christ, we showed ’em two things—what they are, an’ what they’ve got to do. And this last little ruckus showed ’em they could do it. Remember what the ’Frisco
strike did to Sam? Well, all these guys’ll get to be a little like Sam.”

“But do you think they’ve got brains enough to see it?”

“Not brains, Jim. It don’t take brains. After it’s all over the thing’ll go on working down inside of ’em. They’ll know it without thinking it out.”

“Well, what do you think’s going to happen now?”

Mac rubbed his front teeth with a finger. “I guess they’ll just have to steam-roller us out of here, Jim. Might be this afternoon, might be tonight.”

“Well, what do you think; had we better just fade, or put up a fight?”

“Fight, if we can make the guys do it,” said Mac. “If they sneak off, they get a bad feeling out of it, but if they fight and get licked, well, they still fought; and it’s worth doing.”

Jim settled down on one knee. “Look, if they come through with guns they’re going to kill a lot of our guys.”

Mac’s eyes grew slitted and cold. “We keep switching sides, Jim. Suppose they do kill some of our men? That helps our side. For every man they kill ten new ones come over to us. The news goes creeping around the country and men all over hear it and get mad. Guys that are just half-warm get hot, see? But if we sneak off and the word gets around, and men say ’They didn’t even put up a fight,’ why all the working stiffs will be unsure of themselves. If we fight, an’ the news gets around, other men in the same position’ll fight too.”

Jim put down the other knee and squatted on his heels. “I wanted to get the thing straight. But will the guys fight?”

“I don’t know. Right now they won’t. They’re pretty sick. Maybe later. Maybe if we could throw ’em another chicken like Burke they would. Burke stepped on the third rail just in time, just when we needed him. Maybe somebody else’ll spill a little blood for the cause.”

Jim said, “Mac, if blood’s all we need, I could pull off this bandage and start the hole bleeding.”