Beyond the Station Lies the Sea (6 page)

Then Mama's shadow didn't appear again, and the light went out.

Niner had never climbed up the fire escape that quickly. Below him, the front door slammed shut. The new guy stumbled out and hurried down the street.

Thank god he's gone, thought Niner. Thank god!

And finally, finally he was standing in the kitchen and calling out, “Mama! . . . Mama?”

Mama was lying on the floor with her eyes closed. Her skin was split open over her brow and there was blood all over, lots of blood.

“Mama!” screamed Niner.

But she didn't answer. Nor did she move when Niner shook her. Then he took her hand. He tried to pull Mama up, but her arm was limp, and it fell back down when Niner let go.

“Mama, say something, please,” begged Niner softly.

Then he screamed again: “Mama, say something! Mama, what should I do now? Mama, please. . . .”

But that night, Mama never answered. And Niner had to do everything himself.

He propped the apartment door open with a shoe, so it wouldn't lock, and then ran down the stairs, pushed down the stopper on the front door. After what felt like an eternity, Niner was standing in the phone booth, telling the man on the other end of the line his address and saying: “Come quick, my mama's not moving anymore.”

And they did come, with the lights and the sirens, and Niner led the men upstairs into the kitchen. And there, at last, Mama opened her eyes again. But she still hadn't said anything.

One of the paramedics asked, “How did this happen?”

“I don't know,” answered Niner. “I was already asleep.”

“We have to take her to the hospital,” said the paramedic. “And what will we do with you?”

“I'll wait here. I have to wait here. My father will be home soon. He has to know what happened,” Niner lied.

“Good,” nodded the paramedic. “I'll write down the name of the hospital.” And he gave Niner a slip of paper. St. Raphael's Hospital, tel. 555-3475.

And then they took Mama away on a stretcher and the door slammed shut behind them.

Niner had stared at the paper. St. Raphael's Hospital, tel. 555-3475. He stared at it for a long time, until he heard the new guy trudging up the stairs.

Niner quickly climbed out the window, still holding the slip of paper in his hand.

The new guy was not to know where Mama went. Not him!

 

NINER MOANS SOFTLY. SUDDENLY, there are feathers everywhere, streaming forth from the corners. More and more of them. The whole room is filled with feathers. They waft through the air and fall to the floor like snowflakes.

And there, in the middle of the feather storm, stands the Queen of Caracas. The feathers cling to her, and she looks like a big angry bird.

She has a knife in her hand, and she comes at Niner with a dark look on her face.

“You deceived me, Niner! I can't use your angel. It's a very bad angel, a black angel, and a black angel is good for nothing! A bad angel is worthless! I want my money back, Niner. . . .”

Niner wants to scream, but he can't. The lump in his throat is so large that there's no room for his voice.

“I want my money,” hisses the Queen of Caracas. “My money or your life, do you understand?”

With his last bit of strength, Niner pushes out a scream.

“Mama,” he calls. “Mama!”

Then Cosmos wakes up.

“Whassa matter, bud? Whaddaya screaming for?” he asks sleepily.

“The feathers,” croaks Niner. “Take the feathers away! The Queen! The knife! Take away the knife!”

Cosmos stands up. He feels his way over to Niner's mattress.

“Hey pal, there're no feathers here. You're having a dream. There's no knife here, and there's definitely no Queen.”

“The money,” pants Niner. “She wants the money!”

Cosmos puts his hand on Niner's forehead.

“You're burning up, man! You've got a fever!”

Niner is shaking. His teeth are chattering.

“I'm freezing,” he moans.

Cosmos grows frightened. I knew it, he thinks. Now he's sick, on top of everything. Pure bad luck, the balance artist! What am I supposed to do with him now?

He feels around in the dark for the water bottle.

“Here, drink.”

Then Cosmos looks for the candle and the matches.

The faint light paints flickering shadows on the walls.

But the feathers are gone, and the feather Queen too, and nothing else streams forth from the corners.

Cosmos sits down on Niner's bed, wipes his brow, holds
Niner's hot hand in his, and at some point the two fall asleep again as the candle slowly burns down.

 

MORNING COMES AND THE fever is gone, along with the moon, the stars, and all the shadows and darkness.

Niner is worn out and he still has a cough, but his fever seems to have subsided.

“Man, little buddy,” says Cosmos, “you really gave me a scare there.”

Niner attempts a grin.

He's so pale, thinks Cosmos. So pale and small and sick.

“Hey man, today's the day,” says Niner. “Today we get on the road!”

“But if you're sick. . . . D'you think you can do it?”

“If you want something bad enough, you just go for it,” says Niner, coughing.

And Cosmos responds, “Man, Niner, think about it. The sea's not going anywhere!”

“The sea isn't,” Niner answers. “But you just might!”

 

AND THEN THE BIG trip really does begin, although Cosmos is against it because Niner keeps coughing. So they go slowly and stop to rest often.

The big trip to the sea really does begin. Down the gravel
path and past the slaughterhouse, where the animals squeal and it stinks of blood and piss. Through the old city toward the new, along the street lined with the guardian angel posters, and past the neon signs. Through the quiet streets of the suburbs, past the high hedgerows, past the wrought-iron gates, behind which lie the white mansions with the red-eyed alarm systems above the terraces.

Although they have to walk slowly and take many long rests, Cosmos and Niner make progress.

Cosmos walks in front because he knows the way. Or at least he says he does.

“All rivers flow into the sea,” says Cosmos. “You just have to follow them long enough. You remember that,” says Cosmos.

Niner trots after him, stopping only to cough. Then he resumes the journey only to stop and cough again.

The coughing is far more strenuous than the walking.

When Niner coughs, little red fireworks explode in his head and make him dizzy.

But he doesn't tell Cosmos about it. He doesn't say much at all. He tries to think of the sea, of the big blue sea. But no matter how hard he tries, he can't really see it, not like he did the day before yesterday, by the river. A shadow has come
between him and the sea, and Niner can tell that this day isn't going to be a good one.

He can't stop thinking about Mama. He wonders how she's doing and where she might be.

Perhaps she's well again.

Perhaps the window is open again at night.

Perhaps Mama's waiting at home for Niner.

Perhaps the new guy has left at last, gone away for good.

No, this isn't going to be one of the good days. Niner can tell for sure.

No Mama. No guardian angel. No blue sea. The only thing he sees are the little red explosions in his head when he coughs.

Cosmos climbs down the embankment.

Near the retaining wall lies the blackened remains of the driftwood fire.

Niner can barely keep up. His brow is covered with sweat and his knees seem to be made of jello.

“You all right?” asks Cosmos.

“Yeah, sure,” gasps Niner.

Mama used to play “follow the leader” whenever Niner couldn't walk anymore. She'd say, “Close your eyes, Little Hobbin, and give me your hand.” And then, Niner would walk along blindly next to Mama, not feeling tired anymore.

In this way, the long paths became shorter, and the clatter of Mama's clogs on the pavement sounded like magical music to him.

If I could just close my eyes like before, thinks Niner, for just a little while, it will all be okay.

As he thinks this, his knees buckle and he falls gently into a deep black hole lined with soft, warm cotton batting.

Then everything goes still in Niner's head, and everything is dark.

 

AS NINER COMES TO, it is still dark. Or perhaps even dark again, Niner can't tell exactly. Next to him, a driftwood fire flickers. Cosmos kneels next to the fire, and next to Cosmos is Red Elsa.

Red Elsa is ripping up a shirt that she has just dipped in the river.

Then she wraps the wet rags around Niner's legs.

“Ow,” moans Niner. “That's cold!”

“Don't fuss. You gotta keep those on! It helps. Those are compresses. My grandma always used to do that.”

Niner's teeth are chattering. He holds Cosmos's hand real tight.

“Stay with me,” he whispers. “Please stay with me.”

“Sure thing buddy,” says Cosmos. “I'll stay with you, it's gonna be just fine.”

But it won't be. Cosmos can see that by the flickering firelight. Red Elsa sees it too. Bald Pete just mumbles incoherently, not understanding a thing.

“You gotta give the little guy some firewater,” he blurts out. “Firewater cures everything!”

Bald Pete tries to squeeze in between Cosmos and Niner with his bottle of booze. But Cosmos shoves him in the chest, so that Bald Pete falls over backward, and there he stays, seemingly untroubled, drinking his booze by himself.

“No, it won't be just fine.” Niner is waning. He gasps and coughs and struggles for breath.

“Hey there buddy, don't you mess around now,” says Cosmos. “You just hang in there. We're going to the sea, remember? The stand, man, think about our stand!”

But Niner no longer hears or sees a thing. He just lies there like a glowing fireball, like the orange sun in the story told by the Queen.

Cosmos wraps compresses around Niner's legs, puts wet rags on his sweaty brow, gives him water, and holds his hand. But nothing helps.

Niner whispers raving nonsense that Cosmos can barely understand. There's only one thing he understands quite clearly:

“Guardian angel,” whispers Niner. “Guardian angel.”

And then Cosmos can't stand it anymore.

“You listen to me, bud,” he says. “I'm going right now. Going to get help! Red Elsa's gonna stay with you while I'm gone. I'm going back to the Queen, too. I'll give her the money back. I'm gonna get your guardian angel for you, I swear! Do you hear me? I'm gonna get your angel right now. I'll be right back. You just hang in there, buddy.”

“Okay,” whispers Niner.

 

THERE ARE TWO THINGS I have to do, thinks Cosmos. Get help and return the angel. But help comes first, that's clear. It's much too far to the Caracas from here, and besides, who knows for sure that Red Elsa's to be trusted.

Better set things in motion quickly, thinks Cosmos. Better hustle.

And so up over the embankment he goes, down along the hedges, and then Cosmos arrives in the quiet street by the mansions. The quiet street by the mansions, where the soft light of the streetlamps glows not white, but yellow. In the quiet street by the mansions in front of a wrought-iron
gate. And it is so exclusive here that people don't even bother putting a nameplate next to the brass doorbell.

Oh man, thinks Cosmos, tugging at his red baseball cap. What on earth am I doing here? I don't belong here. I've never belonged here.

He thinks of old Sadie and the forbidden park, and of the fact that he never conquered those dogs at all. It was all just a story, a story for Niner. Hypnosis, my foot. It didn't go down that way at all. They would have mauled him to death that time, the dogs from Fisher and Frost. If the old gardener hadn't been there, Cosmos would have been done long ago. Truth is, the old gardener threw himself between Cosmos and the dogs and yelled: “Run, boy, run for your life!” And Cosmos ran like a deer and pulled himself up over the wrought-iron gate, only to fall down over the other side, thank god. That's what the ugly scar was from. From falling down, not fighting.

Nah, thinks Cosmos. I've never belonged here. This place was always forbidden territory, and dangerous besides. Things like that never change. And when the boy is better, I'll tell him the story again. I'll tell him what really happened. I swear, I'll do it when he's all better again.

But now, you gotta buck it up, thinks Cosmos. The little guy needs help.

He sets the red baseball cap straight, and straightens up himself. Then Cosmos pushes the brass doorbell.

At first he hears only a soft humming. Then the wrought-iron gate opens by itself as if pushed by a ghostly hand. Very slowly, the right side of the gate swings out, followed by the left side. As if in slow motion. And then Cosmos walks, also as if in slow motion, up the white gravel path toward the villa. And as he walks, the little yellow lanterns that line the path flash on alongside him. Five steps lead up to the front door, which is polished to a blinding sheen and flanked by two stone lions. And as Cosmos climbs the second step, a dog starts barking.

Oh no! thinks Cosmos. Not that again! From behind the closed door the bark sounds big and dangerous. A foaming-at-the-mouth bark. The dog must be huge.

Cosmos tenses all his muscles, ready for flight. He plans to jump behind the columns the instant he sees the hellhound.