Happy New Year, Herbie and other stories
- Автор: Хантер Эван
- Год: 1963
- Язык: английский
- Год: Simon and Schuster
- Жанр: Современная русская и зарубежная проза
Электронная книга - «Happy New Year, Herbie and other stories». Краткое содержание книги:
He heard footsteps at the other end of the alley, and he lifted his cheek from the sidewalk and looked into the darkness and tried to cry out, but again there was only a soft hissing bubble of blood on his mouth.
The man came down the alley. He had not seen Andy yet. He walked, and then stopped to lean against the brick of the building, and then walked again. He saw Andy then and came toward him, and he stood over him for a long time, the minutes ticking, ticking, watching him and not speaking.
Then he said, “What’s a matter, buddy?”
Andy could not speak, and he could barely move. He lifted his face slightly and looked up at the man, and in the rain-swept alley he smelled the sickening odor of alcohol and realized the man was drunk. He did not feel any particular panic. He did not know he was dying, and so he felt only mild disappointment that the man who had found him was drunk.
The man was smiling.
“Did you fall down, buddy?” he asked. “You mus’ be as drunk as I am.” He grinned, seemed to remember why he had entered the alley in the first place, and said, “Don’ go way. I’ll be ri’ back.”
The man lurched away. Andy heard his footsteps, and then the sound of the man colliding with a garbage can, and some mild swearing, and then the sound of the man urinating, lost in the steady wash of the rain. He waited for the man to come back.
It was 11:39.
When the man returned, he squatted alongside Andy. He studied him with drunken dignity.
“You gonna catch cold here,” he said. “What’s a matter? You like layin’ in the wet?”
Andy could not answer. The man tried to focus his eyes on Andy’s face. The rain spattered around them.
“You like a drink?”
Andy shook his head.
“I gotta bottle. Here,” the man said. He pulled a pint bottle from his inside jacket pocket. He uncapped it and extended it to Andy. Andy tried to move, but pain wrenched him back flat against the sidewalk.
“Take it,” the man said. He kept watching Andy. “Take it.” When Andy did not move, he said, “Nev’ mind, I’ll have one m’self.” He tilted the bottle to his lips, and then wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “You too young to be drinkin’, anyway. Should be ’shamed of yourself, drunk an’ layin’ in a alley, all wet. Shame on you. I gotta good minda calla cop.”
Andy nodded. Yes, he tried to say. Yes, call a cop. Please. Call one.
“Oh, you don’ like that, huh?” the drunk said. “You don’ wanna cop to fin’ you all drunk an’ wet in a alley, huh? Okay, buddy. This time you get off easy.” He got to his feet. “This time you lucky,” he said. He waved broadly at Andy, and then almost lost his footing.
“S’long, buddy,” he said.
Wait, Andy thought. Wait, please, I’m bleeding.
“S’long,” the drunk said again, “I see you around,” and then he staggered off up the alley.
Andy lay and thought, Laura, Laura. Are you dancing?
The couple came into the alley suddenly. They ran into the alley together, running from the rain, the boy holding the girl’s elbow, the girl spreading a newspaper over her head to protect her hair. Andy lay crumpled against the pavement, and he watched them run into the alley laughing, and then duck into the doorway not ten feet from him.
“Man, what rain!” the boy said. “You could drown out there.”
“I have to get home,” the girl said. “It’s late, Freddie. I have to get home.”
“We got time,” Freddie said. “Your people won’t raise a fuss if you’re a little late. Not with this kind of weather.”
“It’s dark,” the girl said, and she giggled.
“Yeah,” the boy answered, his voice very low.
“Freddie...?”
“Um?”
“You’re... you’re standing very close to me.”
“Um.”
There was a long silence. Then the girl said, “Oh,” only that single word, and Andy knew she’d been kissed, and he suddenly hungered for Laura’s mouth. It was then that he wondered if he would ever kiss Laura again. It was then that he wondered if he was dying.
No, he thought, I can’t be dying, not from a little street rumble, not from just getting cut. Guys get cut all the time in rumbles. I can’t be dying. No, that’s stupid. That don’t make any sense at all.
“You shouldn’t,” the girl said.
“Why not?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you like it?”
“Yes.”
“So?”
“I don’t know.”
“I love you, Angela,” the boy said.
“I love you, too, Freddie,” the girl said, and Andy listened and thought, I love you, Laura. Laura, I think maybe I’m dying. Laura, this is stupid but I think maybe I’m dying. Laura, I think I’m dying! He tried to speak. He tried to move.
He tried to crawl toward the doorway where he could see the two figures in embrace. He tried to make a noise, a sound, and a grunt came from his lips, and then he tried again, and another grunt came, a low animal grunt of pain.
“What was that?” the girl said, suddenly alarmed, breaking away from the boy.
“I don’t know,” he answered.
“Go look, Freddie.”
“No. Wait.”
Andy moved his lips again. Again the sound came from him.
“Freddie!”
“What?”
“I’m scared.”
“I’ll go see,” the boy said.
He stepped into the alley. He walked over to where Andy lay on the ground. He stood over him, watching him.
“You all right?” he asked.
“What is it?” Angela said from the doorway.
“Somebody’s hurt,” Freddie said.
“Let’s get out of here,” Angela said.
“No. Wait a minute.” He knelt down beside Andy. “You cut?” he asked.
Andy nodded. The boy kept looking at him. He saw the lettering on the jacket then, THE ROYALS. He turned to Angela.
“He’s a Royal,” he said.
“Let’s... what... what do you want to do, Freddie?”
“I don’t know. I don’t want to get mixed up in this. He’s a Royal. We help him, and the Guardians’ll be down on our necks. I don’t want to get mixed up in this, Angela.”
“Is he... is he hurt bad?”
“Yeah, it looks that way.”
“What shall we do?”
“I don’t know.”
“We can’t leave him here in the rain.” Angela hesitated. “Can we?”
“If we get a cop, the Guardians’ll find out who,” Freddie said. “I don’t know, Angela. I don’t know.”
Angela hesitated a long time before answering. Then she said, “I have to get home, Freddie. My people will begin to worry.”
“Yeah,” Freddie said. He looked at Andy again.
“You all right?” he asked. Andy lifted his face from the sidewalk, and his eyes said, Please, please help me, and maybe Freddie read what his eyes were saying, and maybe he didn’t.
Behind him, Angela said, “Freddie, let’s get out of here! Please!” There was urgency in her voice, urgency bordering on the edge of panic. Freddie stood up. He looked at Andy again, and then mumbled, “I’m sorry,” and then he took Angela’s arm and together they ran toward the neon splash at the other end of the alley.
Why, they’re afraid of the Guardians, Andy thought in amazement. But why should they be? I wasn’t afraid of the Guardians. I never turkeyed out of a rumble with the Guardians. I got heart. But I’m bleeding.