Dog Soldiers (57 page)

Give me a triangle and a song, he thought, and I
’
ll climb this son of a bitch. For the song you wanted something simple and pleasant because you would be hearing it for hours over and over

and it could drive you out of your mind when the pain got to it.

He started up to
“
Red River Valley.
”
His breathing felt so mechanical and unrewarding that he feared his lungs were not filling, that there was a puncture somewhere — but he convinced himself that his trunk was sound, the vital organs untouched and functioning.

He was glad to be alone. The triangle held and his legs with it.

The most difficult part of the climb was the rain. It was light rain, that grew warmer and warmer, jungle rain that closed off the breeze — it took an act of concentration for him to realize that it was the clearest of moonlit nights, that the ground on which he walked was dry as dry bones, as chalk, as dry as his mouth was dry.

At the entrance to the shelter, he took a few deep breaths and brought the bag out and slung it by its straps across the rifle sling on his good shoulder.

The trees at the top of the hill were full of lights and music; they wrecked his concentration and infuriated him. The mission building was flashing on and off. He made steadily for the carved doorway; when he had climbed the steps and passed through it he was disappointed that the pain did not subside. He would have to take it in with him.

Dieter had turned off the
interior lights. The only illu
mination in the room came from the flashes outside and the tubes of the console in front of him. When he saw Hicks, he stood up in alarm.

“
How about some light,
”
Hicks said.

Dieter lit a desk lamp and closed the switches on his forest. Hicks sat down in the stiff Spanish chair and tossed the little bloody bag which had wounded him on the floor. He had carried it all the way up the hill, clenched in his right hand. He flung the dope at the foot of Dieter
’
s altar.

Dieter stared at the things and then at Hicks.

“
What
’
s the matter with you, Dieter?
”

“
You
’
ve been shot. You
’
re bleeding.
”

“
Did you think everybody was kidding?
”
Hicks asked, try
ing to pull his matted shirt away from the wound.
“
You been away, man. You been living in the country too long.
”

“
What happened?
”
Dieter asked breathlessly.
“
Who
’
s out there now?
”

“
I got their fucking car with an M-70,
”
Hicks said laugh
ing.
“
Did you see it?
”

“
No,
”
Dieter said.
“
I heard it.
”
He sat down slowly on a chair beside Hicks
’
.
“
Ray — did you put a rocket in a police car? Did you kill an agent down there?
”

“
They
’
re killing each other,
”
Hicks said.
“
They
’
re nuts, the greedy bastards. I got a car, that
’
s all I know. Give me some water.
”

Dieter brought him a drink of creek water in a ceramic bowl.

“
Where
’
s your girl?
”

“
They split.
”
He stood up, tried to move the arm above his wound and sat down again.

“
If they got through they
’
ll meet me. I
’
ve got to get to route eight before the heat comes in.
”

“
Ray, that
’
s her husband down there. If they
’
re alive they won
’
t be looking for you.
”

Dieter searched among the shadows for his glass of wine.

“
We
’
ll go,
”
he said.
“
We
’
ll get out of here for a while.
”

He found his glass atop the refrigerator and drained it.
“
Maybe for good. Maybe it
’
s time.
”

“
I
’
m gonna walk that wetback trail out of here. She
’
ll get him to pick me up.
”
Hicks stood with difficulty and walked to the altar where the pack was and sat down beside it.

Dieter looked at the pack, holding his empty glass.

“
The first thing we
’
ll do is toss that bad medicine.
”

Hicks wiped the sweat from his eyes.

“
Here
’
s what you do, Dieter. You take my works and cook up and hit me here —
“
he tapped his limp left arm with his right hand.
“
Because I got pain there. Then help me strap the fucker on.
”

When he had the shot he nodded off into rain. Dieter had poured something ice cold over the wound and was taping bedsheeting over it with Band-aids.

“
You
’
re bleeding a lot, you know that?
”

“
You should have seen me last time.
”

He put a hand on Dieter
’
s shoulder to move him out of the way and vomited explosively across the stone floor.
“
It looks awful,
”
Dieter said, when he had finished the bandage.
“
It
’
s huge.
”

“
Beautiful,
”
Hicks said.
“
Now strap it on.
”

Dieter wiped his hands on the extra sheeting.

“
We
’
re going down to the village. We
’
ll pick up my boy and ride out with Galindez. Can you walk?
”

“
I can walk fine,
”
Hicks said.
“
Give me a hand with the pack.
”

“
Galindez won
’
t carry dope. It
’
s against his religion.
”
Dieter picked up the pack and shook it.
“
This goes, you hear me? You came here to get rid of it and that
’
s what we
’
ll do.
”

Hicks reached out and seized the pack by a strap. Dieter pried it from his fingers.

“
That
’
s called grasp
ing, remember? Grasping is igno
rance.
”
He backed away, holding the backpack beyond Hicks
’
reach.
“
There is no payoff in grasping.
”

“
Dieter damnit, don
’
t fuck around.
”

“
We
’
re at a primitive stage in our development,
”
Dieter said.
“
But we shall learn from our mistakes.
”

Hicks stared at him, fighting off another nod in the rain.

“
No nonsense, no vulgarization. No occultism, no lambs, no dope. Strength!
”
Dieter cried.
“
Discipline! Love! Words much debased — nevertheless I dare to speak them.
”

Hicks turned around in his chair to see whom it was that Dieter was speaking them to.

“
You
’
re drunk, Dieter. Hand it over.
”

“
I know how you are,
”
Dieter said.
“
I understand you better than anyone eke in the world. I love you more than anyone else in the world. I know your courage and your obstinacy.
”
He was red-
faced and swaying. He kept shak
ing the bag. Hicks reached out and made a swipe at it but his fingers never came close.
“
This is not strength, Hicks. It goes.
”

He marched down the altar. On the last step, he tripped and the pack fell from his hands and into the streaks of Hicks
’
vomit.

Hicks tried to stand without success.

Dieter scurried after the pack and picked it up.

“
Look at it, Hicks. It
’
s full of puke and blood! On the inside it
’
s all illusion and false necessity. It
’
s suffering human ignorance. It
’
s hell!
”

“
Sounds good,
”
Hicks said.

“
The truth is,
”
Dieter said,
“
that I talk too much.
”
His slack mouth broke into a smile.
“
This was perhaps the problem all along.
”

“
Einsicht
! he shouted.
“
Agenbite
of
inwit
! I
’
m a runner-over at the mouth. If I had kept my mouth shut — who knows?
”
He extended the bag toward Hicks.
“
With this goes my wine and my loquacity.
”
His eyes filled with tears.
“
Oh Hicks — listen to me! We begin again. We begin. Again. First I throw it.
”

“
Sounds good but it
’
s my dope. You bring it back here.
”

Dieter watched him as slowly and painfully he unslung the M-16 from around his good shoulder. He stood the weapon on its stock and caught it by the trigger housing as it tipped.

“
You
’
re wired into grasping,
”
Dieter told him.
“
You
’
ve got to fight.
”

“
Dope got you up this mountain, Dieter, and you figure dope
’
s gonna get you down. Dope is what you
’
re all about, man. You think I don
’
t know the difference between what
’
s real and what
’
s not? You think you
’
re gonna bluff me out of my good shit and con yourself another mountain with it?
”

“
It appears to be evil,
”
Dieter assured some interested presence,
“
but it is in fact me
re ignorance. The first is actu
ally nonexistent and the second is mistaken for it.
”

He started for the door. He was afraid and Hicks found his fear enraging.
“
Where do you think you
’
re going, Dieter? I
’
ll kill you, man I
”

Dieter turned, his mouth quivering with fear and disgust.

“
I
’
ll kill you, man!
”
he shouted mockingly back at Hicks. That
’
s the slogan of this stupid age! The land of dope and murder! You accuse me of coveting this filth?
”

“
You
’
re the greatest show on earth,
”
Hicks said.
“
But you
’
re not conning me out of that pack.
”

Dieter
’
s legs trembled.