The Room (7 page)

Yeah, yeah. With maggots and rats guzzling away. Beautiful. Beautiful. A deep smile eased through his face. He felt a happiness and contentment that was immeasurable. He could taste it and roll it around on his tongue. He could inhale it and feel it caressing him. He looked more closely at the rotting flesh and gnawed bones and eased into an ecstasy. And with the ecstasy came a brief semiconsciousness. Not a sleep, but an exciting relaxation that he immersed himself in.

But to stay so immersed too long, too deeply, would deprive him of his ecstasy and if he lost it he might never experience it again. He was too excited to remain on the bed. His eyes opened and he went to the sink and rinsed his face many times with cold water and blinked his eyes completely open. He rubbed his face hard with the towel and felt the tingle of his skin. He examined the pimple briefly then went back to the bed. An arm covered his eyes.

When the officer pulled his gun – first he warned them he was a karate expert – he hit him on the wrist, the gun falling, and jabbed his finger tips in the others adams apple. He then shoved his finger tips in the first ones solar plexus, chopped the second on the back of the neck and did the same to the first one. They fell unconscious to the ground and he disarmed them. He then went to the pay phone on the corner and called the newspaper and related the events that had just occurred and requested that a reporter be sent to the scene. Not many minutes later a reporter and cameraman arrived and they called the authorities. In the few minutes before three squad cars arrived he quickly repeated his story to the reporter while the cameraman took many pictures. When the other officers arrived, including a sergeant and lieutenant, he was asked many angry questions and looked into many angry faces. As he said later, they were incensed. He was bumped slightly and not treated too gently as they rode to the station house. He made the remark about them being incensed during an interview in the publishers office where he told the interviewer, and others who were there (the publisher, managing editor, a leading criminal attorney, a representative from the a.c.l.u., and leaders from many civic organizations) that he was certain that he would have received a terrible beating if the reporter and cameraman had not been there. As a matter of fact it would not have surprised me if they had found some way to send me to prison for many years. They undoubtedly would have accused me of attempted murder and god knows what else.

Q
. Just what made you call the paper rather than just walking away?

A
. Well, actually, I made that call for a few reasons. I was afraid that if I were to simply walk away I might be picked up at some future time and then I would have no way to defend myself. You see, there were no witnesses. So I decided the wisest thing to do would be to call a reputable paper, tell my story, and ask that a reporter be on hand to prevent what I am certain would have happened if he had not been there. Of course, sending a cameraman added even more insurance. And too, I did not want these so-called, quote, officers of the law, unquote, to go unpunished. They were grossly abusing their authority and that is not only wrong, it is dangerous. And that is why I called your paper. I know Mr Preston has always concerned himself with the rights of others and is an honest and courageous individual.

Q
. Well, what was it that made you do what you did to the officers?

A
. Well, I guess I just got fed up with their bullying. I spoke properly to them and they continually abused me, insulted me, pushed me, and all the time I was giving them straightforward and honest answers. I even warned them to stop hitting me because I am a karate expert and would feel compelled to defend myself. Then when one took his gun out of his holster I simply decided I was not going to take any chances on being killed.

Q
. What are your plans now?

A
. Well, I am going to press charges against them. I do not think anyone should be allowed to abuse anyone else. I do not believe in allowing the criminal element to simply run around the streets doing whatever they want to whomever they wish. And I certainly am thankful for a police force to help protect the honest citizen. But – and this is a big but – I do not think a police officer should be allowed to do so either. There is nothing more dangerous than irresponsible authority. (yeah, thats a good one)

Q
. Are you planning to sue the city for punitive damages?

A
. No. Definitely not. And that is something I want completely understood. I am not doing this to make money. Of course, like everyone else, I could always use a little more (smiles and nods), but that is not the reason. I am doing this because I believe it is my duty to do so.

Q
. What other plans do you have for the immediate future?

A
. Well, I am going to work with Don and Stace to see if we can do something that may help prevent this from happening again. I do not imagine it can be prevented completely, but perhaps we can at least diminish the frequency and in so doing we may help save some innocent persons life. Or as far as that goes, anyones life.

Thank you very much.

It was my pleasure.

And more pleasure at the trial, orgastically squirming slightly on the bed. No, not just pleasure, or even ecstasy. This was something sublime. Yes, sublime to destroy them in a public trial with newsmen watching, the public watching, the cameramen from newspapers and t.v. watching. All watching and listening.

The first witnesses called were from the newspaper. The first was the switchboard operator who answered the call and was told that he had just knocked out 2 cops who had abused him. She said she referred the call to the editor.

He testified that he answered the phone and was told the story of what happened, briefly, and that a request for a reporter had been made.

The reporter testified as to what he was told and what he saw.

The photographer testified in the same vein and then authenticated the pictures he had taken and they were placed into evidence.

Then he took the stand and clearly and precisely related the chain of events that led them to all being there in the courtroom. And then he did a magnificent job of making the defense attorney look like a damn fool. Time after time counsel tried to intimidate him, trap him, bully him, belittle him, but he simply and calmly foiled all attempts. Of course Stacey Lowry made many objections, which were sustained, but actually it was not necessary. No matter how, and in what way, defense counsel attempted to discredit him or his testimony he was steadfast and said not one single word that conflicted with his original story. Eventually defense counsel, baffled and frustrated, gave up in disgust. He was magnificent on the stand.

And when the officers testified he made short notes and passed them to Stace showing the discrepancies in their stories. The cross-examination was brutal (all the news media commented on what a strong impression he had made while on the stand. Especially under cross-examination). Stacey had the officers contradicting themselves and each other in 5 minutes. There were times when there was so much laughter in the courtroom that the judge had to pound his gavel for silence. It took the jury 30 minutes to reach a verdict. It was a joy
to see the look on the officers faces when they were pronounced guilty.

It was sublime.

And there were columns of print in the paper the next day about the trial stressing how the entire case had been won by him the way he made the defense counsel look ridiculous; and what a profound impression he made on the jury. There was even an editorial about the trial praising him for his courage to stand up to the authorities in the name of justice, and he watched the jurors filing in and taking their seats. The verdict was handed to the clerk who handed it to the judge. The defendants stood and he watched. He stared and that warm glow filled him as the judge read the verdict and they turned white or gray or maybe green, but it didnt matter, he felt good; and he stared politely into defense counsels face, fully composed and relaxed and soon he could see that counsel was aware that he had met his match and the questions were thrust, hurled and screamed, but his composure remained constant, his demeanor relaxed, calm, and the judge thanked him, personally, for bringing the case to court and hoped that more citizens would have the courage in the future to follow the example he set; and he heard the muffled splash as the guns and badges hit the water and the captains face was red as he screamed at the 2 officers and he and Stace and his wife sat in the living room sipping brandy and talking and he felt the side of his hand crash against the back of the cops neck and heard the clanging of the helmets, and he tossed them in their car and

the tumbling was starting to interfere with the enjoyment so he got out of bed and paced the floor, but not as he had before. There wasnt the previous tension. It had been replaced with an intense joy, almost a euphoria. Perhaps not as sublime a feeling as he had experienced, but none the less a euphoric one.

Actually he didnt pace, but leisurely walked the feet from the door to the wall, without counting, without trying to follow his own footsteps, without worrying about breaking his mothers back.

He looked in the mirror at his pimple and touched it gently. It seemed to be a little larger and
perhaps a little more tender, but that was nothing. He simply shrugged then walked leisurely from the door to the wall not trying to regain the images or recapture anything, but just remembering and enjoying.

The first time he was ever in a police car was when he was 8 years old. The bell rang and his mother opened the door then came into his room and told him 2 policemen wanted to speak to him. He was suddenly covered with sweat. He knew why they were there. They were going to arrest him for beating up Angelo. But he only had a red mark on his cheek. Didnt he? Cant remember. Seems so. Couldnt see so good. Ran so fast. They yelled and he kept running. Somethin musta happened. Maybe he hurt his head. Maybe he was bleedin after he ran. Maybe blood was comin outta his nose or his mouth. Suppose his eyes was bleedin. Please God, not his eyes. He didnt wanna hitim. They made him do it. Maybe the cops was gonna hitim. They were gonna beat him up. Then they would take him away. He/d never see mommy again. Never.

Son … son (2 huge blue giants stood behind her. Couldnt see the doorway. They were up to the ceiling. Couldnt put his head back far enough to see their faces. Just a doorway filled with blue. And mommy standing in front. Why is she gonna let them take me away? He/d never see her again. never). Son. The police officers want to talk to you about the dog that bit you yesterday …

Dog? Yesterday? Yesterday. (he was roller skating with friends on the grainy sidewalk. They laughed and yelled as they raced down the block, their metal wheels grinding and buzzing. Suddenly a small black dog ran from a yard and bit him on the heel ((right one? left one??? yeah, the left one)). He screeched and started crying as the others yelled at the dog and a woman hurried from the house calling to her dog and yelling at the boys to stop yelling, youre scaring him, and he continued to cry still not feeling any pain and the same hysteria propelled him home as the woman called to him to come back so she could look at his leg but he skated as fast as possible and when he reached his house he didnt stop to take off his skates but clanged up the stairs, clinging
to the banister, half-pulling, half-thrusting himself up the 3 flights of stairs until he reached his door and rolled into it hitting it with both hands open still yelling mommy, mommy, and when she opened the door he fell forward but mommy caught him, her face strained as she responded to his yells and hysteria as he panted and sobbed, unable to tell her what had happened no matter how much she soothed and questioned until she finally half-carried and half-dragged him to his bedroom and put his head on her lap as he stretched out on the bed and she rubbed his head with her hand and kissed away his tears until he buried his face in her lap and put his arms around her clinging desperately to mommy until the sobs stopped and she lifted her darlings face and continued to rub his head while he told her the story, then sat for many minutes until he was calmed enough for her to take off the skates and walk him to the bathroom and wash his face with cold water, comb his hair and take him to the doctor.

He wasnt nervous until the doctor told him that it might sting a little. He said nothing. Just looked at his mother. She held his hands and soothed him as the doctor cauterized the wound. Its not bad, and shouldnt give him any trouble, but I do have to notify the police so the dog can be tested for rabies.

When they got home she put him to bed and told him to rest for a while, doing all she could to comfort him, yet the look of panic would not leave his face. When he was finally able to stop his mouth from trembling he said, rabies. Do I have rabies like that boy in the movie and they gotta give me big needles in the stomach? No. No. Dont worry son. You will be all right, and she could feel his body trembling and shivering as she cradled him, rocking him back and forth as his mind whirled with images of foaming mouths and huge spikelike needles squealing into the soft flesh of his abdomen.)

They want to know where he lives. She entered his room and sat beside him and held his hand. The doorway widened and he could see their faces. (its only about the dog. they werent after him.) The cops and his mother talked with him for a few minutes and assured him that they wouldnt hurt the lady that owned the dog, they only wanted to test the dog.

As they left the building he could see a small crowd of people standing near the patrol car. He could see that many of his friends were there and staring at him as he walked, with the 2 cops, toward the police car. He felt as huge as the cops had looked. He knew none of his friends had ever been in a police car and he tried to look deadly serious as he walked to the car, wanting to wave to his friends but holding back, wanting to maintain the aura of mystery. He wished the walk could have been a hundred feet long, or even a mile, but the patrol car was only a few feet away.