Rigadoon (26 page)

"Think you can make it?"

"Not right away . . . after a while . . ."

I was perfectly conscious though . . . I know, because I said:

"Go see what the kids are doing . . . come back and tell me . . .

When you've been brought up right, anarchist or not, duty comes first . . . with me it was those drooling cretins, especially their milk . . . maybe they'd found some . . . God knows they had the knack! . . . not of talking, not of looking at things . . . specimens in jars for instance . . . but when it came to disappearing, phenomenal I tell you! . . . the merest mousehole . . . now you see them, now you don't! . . . the slightest crack . . . mud, ashes, clay . . . they vanish . . . and turn up at the other end, some other crack . . . right now they must be hiding . . . where? . . . in the attic? . . . possible! seeing everything was upside down, the roofs in the cellars! . . . Bébert was sure to be with them, Lili'd only have to make him miow . . . nobody obeyed me . . . all the same I should have pulled myself together and helped Lili and Felipe . . . helped them do what? . . . little by little I understood what they were saying . . . right! they wanted me to help them . . .

"Christ!"

That's me coming to . . . I pick myself up, I'm wobbling, but I make it . . . "Over there!" I look . . . I see it! . . . it's in the shadow . . . looks like a stage set . . . in the middle of the clay . . . a door . . . a wooden door . . . they want me to help them . . . they've tried . . . it won't budge . . . where's that door lead to? . . . it's a backdrop, interior of a shop . . . and shelves . . . I can see them now . . . above this door and along the clay wall . . . they're not empty! piled high! . . . almost to the roof . . . with bread, sausage, cans of milk . . . high, I've said, and I repeat, three or four times as high as Notre Dame . . . you'll say I'm exaggerating, I've got witnesses . . . I think . . . exactly what we needed, tons of condensed milk! but the kids? . . . seems they were on the other side of the door . . . how come? . . . they'd gotten themselves shut in . . . they were stuck in the clay, in a pit, and Bébert was with them . . . we could hear him miowing . . . certainly he could get out. . . when a cat decides he's got to be thin . . . and a little thinner . . . he practically fades away . . . our kids? no problem! . . . room enough in that pit for twelve or fifteen of them . . . I hadn't counted them . . . all doubled up and slippery with slobber . . . they could get through any opening, any crack, you'd wonder how . . . and I've delivered babies, fascinated, I might say, by difficult passages, visions of the narrows . . . those rare moments when nature lets you observe it in action, so subtle, the way it hesitates, then makes up its mind . . . life's critical moment, as it were . . . all our theater and literature revolve around coitus, deadly repetition! . . . the orgasm is boring, the giants of the pen and silver screen with all the ballyhoo and the millions spent on advertising . . . have never succeeded in putting it across . . . two three shakes of the ass, and there it is . . . the sperm does its work much too quietly, too intimately, the whole thing escapes us . . . but childbirth, that's worth looking at! . . . examining! . . . to the millimeter! fucking . . . God knows I've wasted hours! . . . for two three wiggles of the ass! look at the novelists, our masters, when they wanted to put on a big show . . . they knew the score . . . they gave you gladiators killing each other! . . . opening each others' thoraxes . . . and senators and their ladies coming down from the stands to watch their bleeding agonies and their beating hearts until they're torn out and thrown to the wild beasts . . . our pancratiums are pathetic . . . that's what they need . . . for our senators and their ladies to climb through the ropes and tickle the morituri, and fling their hearts to the people . . . our poor dear people that shout so much for nothing! . . .
yum! yum!
give them a treat! . . . our decadence is flabby . . . all it does is jerk off . . . never stops . . . me too, curses! . . . I'd better get on the ball . . . we were outside this fool door with all our kids on the other side . . . supposedly! . . . so all together! . . . we pull, we push! . . . it's giving . . . it's giving . . . wham! and who gets it? me! the whole works! . . . one . . . two . . . three sugar loaves! . . . and the whole shelf! . . . two shelves! on the bean! . . . and all the merchandise! on my head! you'll say: he does it on purpose . . . no! . . . like with the brick . . . no! . . . my head is unlucky! . . . it's big, but even so . . . like with the brick . . . is it fate? . . . or just to amuse you? . . .
ding! dong!
anyway I hear bells! . . . gongs! . . . I say no more, that's enough! . . . I'm shaken, I mean I'm out for the count . . . my hearing's gone, I lose consciousness, I ought to be getting used to it, I'm really ashamed of myself, I faint at the drop of a hat . . . it's that brick! . . . in Hanover, that house front . . . the others can take over! . . . I'm in a coma! . . . the others? Lili and Felipe . . . for once, I admit, I'm really out! . . . I think they try to wake me up . . . they even shake me . . . I think . . . and then little by little my hearing comes back . . . oh, no intention of moving! . . . they can move! . . . I half open one eye . . . I see a kid . . . two . . . our kids . . . they're coming out. . . it's true, they were down in that crevasse . . . that's where they're coming from . . . five . . . six . . . and all carrying something . . . where are they going? . . . Felipe shows them . . . I get it, he wants them to take their bundles outside . . . bundles of what? . . . looks like condensed milk! . . . grocery store? . . . pharmacy? . . . I can see better now . . . they've all got an armful . . . and not just milk . . . no, bread and jam and . . . they're heading for the entrance . . . that's where the tarp is, the enormous tarp Felipe was carrying on his head . . . he'd spread it out on the ground . . . the kids were making return trips and emptying their bread and cans of milk . . . the little cretins were still slobbering, but steadier on their feet, it seemed to me, not falling so much, and some, I think, were even enjoying themselves . . . out there by the train I hadn't seen one of them laugh . . . children perk up quick, just a wee bit of adventure and even the worst little defectives . . . like ours . . . are full of piss and mischief! . . . cripples or not, you can't keep up with them, they're in the stream of life . . . if you're old, they slip through your fingers, whatever you do! when the menopause comes, the athlete who hangs on, the asthmatic prime minister, are deflated rubbers, fit for the sewer . . . a lot more ridiculous than our little cretins, puny and pathetic as they were, but for them there was hope, when an athlete is through he's through, and as for the minister who was all wind to begin with, he hasn't even got that left . . . our kids went in and out, each with his jam and a loaf of bread . . . where were they taking it all? . . . to the mouth of our crevasse, I think . . . they come right back . . . I really ought to pick myself up . . . and see what's going on . . . in the first place, no use kidding myself . . . this giant vault, this clay blister, wouldn't last . . . I've told you how high it was . . . three four times as high as Notre Dame . . . one more seismic shock, one more subterranean upheaval, you could kiss it good-bye, the whole thing would collapse . . . on top of us . . . I was perfectly willing to get up . . . but the strength? . . . oh, I'd recovered consciousness all right, but standing up was something else again . . . Lili and Felipe come over and help me . . . the "chin up, kid!" routine, I get it . . . there! I'm up! . . . same crevasse . . . same walls . . . it's slippery! . . . we're going downhill . . . this wet clay . . . and there's the light . . . broad daylight! . . . this is the place! . . . I'd guessed right! . . . that's what the kids have been doing! . . . their return-trips! toting the stuff out here from those stores we'd seen . . . hidden under the clay . . . pharmacy? . . . grocery store? . . . I never found out. . . all I'm sure about is the disemboweled storekeeper at his cash desk with his guts hanging out . . . hell of a good time they're having . . . with their bread and milk and jam . . . playing follow-the-leader . . . and dozens of screwdrivers . . . corkscrews and can openers . . . that stuff looks more like a grocery store . . . and heaps of little bottles . . . liqueurs, it looks like to me . . . some liquor supply! . . . they chuck everything in the tarp at the entrance, just as I thought . . . Felipe's tarp . . . if you ask me, that grocer was hoarding! . . . he won't be hoarding any more, with his belly wide open and his guts all over the place . . .

"Dottore! Dottore!
we're late!"

Felipe's trying to hurry me up . . . he's right . . . I'd sort of lost track . . .

"Right you are! . . . the train! . . . the train!"

It's all right with the kids . . . but we've got this tarp . . . full up . . . to tote . . . we all grab hold, we drag it . . . good strong canvas, it holds . . . there aren't so many of us, but between us and the kids we'll get there . . . come to think of it, I haven't counted them! . . . we take the same route . . . the crevasse is slippery . . . a little snow has fallen, not much, a bit of powder . . . so let's go! back to the train, our flatcars! . . . assuming they're still there! . . . that the train hasn't moved! . . . anyway somebody's calling us from up there, from the top of the embankment! . . . guttural! . . .
los! los!
. . . a Kraut! . . . two Krauts! . . . we should hurry! . . . not passengers, the passengers weren't talking . . . it's the engineers, they're in a hurry . . . but we've got the provisions . . . they're not dragging this tarp, it's us and our drooling cretins . . . and it's not easy . . . fits and starts! . . . take a break! and pick her up! . . . another few yards! . . . this enormous pile . . . it's not them, it's us! . . . hanging on for dear life! . . . Bébert follows us . . . on his own . . . okay, okay, we're coming! . . . the whole side of the basin to go . . . you get the picture . . . a struggle! . . .
los! los!
. . . mighty impatient up there! . . . but come down and help us? oh no! . . . what's it to them if we die in the traces! . . . what's so urgent up there? . . . a fire? . . . there's always a fire, always and everywhere! . . . the nitwits! . . .
"ja! ja!
we're coming!" . . . we're almost there . . . but the kids are stumbling too much . . . they're all in . . . they let us drag them with the tarp . . . they hold on . . . we stop, we put them back on their feet more or less . . . and here we go again! . . . now I see them, those two impatient characters up there . . .
los! los!
two engineers . . . we're coming! . . . and look what we've got! . . . plenty of loot under that mountain! . . . that blister . . . I've told you . . . I'm not going to tell you again . . . high, two three times as high as Notre Dame . . . we're almost there . . . only the embankment . . . and the roadbed . . . but I don't see any passengers . . . not a one! all gone off to town? . . . or back where they came from, wedged between the searchlights? . . . one thing for sure, our two loudmouths haven't calmed down . . .
los! los!
what's so urgent? . . .
was? was?
. . . I shout back! . . . what? . . . the R.A.F., the "fortresses!" . . . they're on alert! . . . if you ask me, they're epileptic! . . . is the alert still on? "quick! quick!" . . . they're bellowing! . . . got to get the train out of there! . . . they're going to burn the whole place down! . . . okay! let's go! . . . but what about Odile? that's easy, she's not moving! . . . the whole world can go up in thunder and smoke! . . . we offer to take her with us . . . no! she refuses! she coughs, she spits blood, okay! she refuses to travel any more . . . I should take her brats, I should save them, she gives them to us! they seem to be happy with us, they even laugh, well, in their own way, hiccups and slobber, first time we'd seen them laughing, they limp, they stumble, they flop, they slobber and cry, but cheerfully all in all . . . Felipe opens cans for them, the whole lot, first with a chunk of iron, then with a real can opener, the tarp's full of them . . . man! are they sucking! . . . "all aboard!" . . . the kids aren't worrying about Odile, they see us get on, so they get on, they settle down on the first flatcar with us . . . Lili, Bébert, and me . . . but the loot! . . . our cans, our jam, our bread! . . . and the chocolate bars! Felipe helps us, so do the two old engineers, the tarp, the whole stock, up on our flatcar! . . . heave! right next to the loco . . . I was the only one . . . I couldn't make it . . . I've got to admit the little cretins helped, every one of them . . . we leave Odile four cans, and plenty of jam and bread . . . don't worry! we've got all we need! . . . "Felipe! . . . Felipe! . . ." he hasn't lost any time, he answers from the other side of the tracks, another flatcar, he's leaving too, right away, his train's all made up! . . . his "Magdeburg express" . . .
"Dottore! Dottore!"
. . . he's getting back to
da boss
. . . I don't answer . . . got to hoist myself aboard . . . with the tarp, thanks to the tarp I'll make it . . . I hold on tight! here I go! . . . right in the middle of the provisions! . . . the kids are all hiccupping, their way of laughing! . . . I'm so comical! . . . all right with me! . . . hey! . . . now our two ancient engineers are making fun of us too, the insolent louts! . . . so help me! . . . they're old, about as old as me now . . . "alert" or not, what can it mean to them? . . . at a certain age nothing means anything . . . unless you're in advertising, selling "eternal youth pills" . . . anyway we've got everything we need, I'm lying on it . . . man, the stuff we've brought back from that grotto! . . . that bell . . . blister . . . abyss . . . that buried grocery store . . . we've got everything . . . we'll take inventory later, plenty of time . . . victuals, cans, and memories . . . "get moving! . . . get moving!
los! los!"
. . . my turn to yell! . . . they should evacuate these lousy flatcars! . . . this station's going to be burned down! . . . I know the score! so now I'm shouting at them: alert! alert! they should get moving! . . . cars, loco, jam, and condensed milk! . . . I'm a damn sight more "alert" than these two septuagenarians, these insolent bald toothless engineers . . . who have the crust to give orders! . . . "lazy bastards!" . . . I give it to them good . . . "get going! saboteurs! . . . imbeciles! . . .
traitors!"
. . . that's a word I know well:
verräter
. . . they don't know who they're up against! . . . get up in that engine! . . . they'll know soon! it works! sure thing! our flatcar's trembling, so am I and Lili and Bébert in his bag . . . they've started up . . . we're moving! lucky I gave them a piece of my mind, we'd still be there! . . . anger has its points sometimes, especially when you're worn to a frazzle . . . anyway, we're off! . . . this loco doesn't whistle and it doesn't
choo! choo!
. . . I don't wave good-bye! . . . to anybody! . . . neither Felipe nor Odile . . . they'd made their beds! . . . okay! oddballs, you say? okay! so am I, take it or leave it! . . . the proof is that I'm here and haven't forgotten a thing . . . and as you can imagine, I didn't take notes . . . I'm here, not in very good shape but wide awake . . . and all around me . . . I've got a lot of snotty, jealous, drooling, fanatical imbeciles, worse than the pilgrims who've gone to Lourdes four or five times to pray that somebody will cut my throat . . . so naturally I'm on my guard! . . . that blood-spitting floozy . . . and that wop with his brick . . .