sk.everythingseventual-第20节

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　　'He　can't　have　pop　before　his　lunch；'　she　says　to　Johnnie；　'what's　wrong　with　you？'
　　Jack　was　leaning　his　head　against　the　glass　of　the　passenger　window　with　his　eyes　shut。　I　thought　he'd　passed　out　again；　but　he　says；　'Shut　that　brat　up；　missus；　or　I　will。'
　　'I　think　you've　forgotten　whose　car　you're　in；'　she　says；　all　haughty。
　　'Give　him　his　pop；　you　bitch；'　Johnnie　says。　He　was　still　smiling；　but　now　it　was　his　other　smile。　She　looked　at　him　and　the　color　in　her　cheeks　disappeared。　And　that's　how　Master　Piglet　got　his　Nehi；　lunch　or　no　lunch。　Twenty　miles　farther　on；　we　dropped　them　off　in　some　little　town　and　went　on　our　way　toward　Chicago。
　　'A　man　who　marries　a　woman　like　that　deserves　all　he　gets；'　Johnnie　remarked；　'and　he'll　get　plenty。'
　　'She'll　call　the　law；'　Jack　says；　still　without　opening　his　eyes。
　　'Never　will；'　Johnnie　says；　as　confident　as　ever。　'Wouldn't　spare　the　nickel。'　And　he　was　right。　We　saw　only　two　blue　beetles　before　we　got　into　Chi；　both　going　the　other　way；　and　neither　one　of　them　so　much　as　slowed　down　to　look　at　us。　It　was　Johnnie's　luck。　As　for　Jack；　you　had　only　to　look　at　him　to　know　that　his　supply　of　luck　was　running　out　fast。　By　the　time　we　got　to　the　Loop；　he　was　delirious　and　talking　to　his　mother。
　　'Homer！'　Johnnie　says；　in　that　wide…eyed　way　that　always　used　to　tickle　me。　Like　a　girl　doing　a　flirt。
　　'What！'　I　says；　giving　him　the　glad　eye　right　back。
　　'We　got　no　place　to　go。　This　is　worse　than　St。　Paul。'
　　'Go　to　Murphy's；'　Jack　says　without　opening　his　eyes。　'I　want　a　cold　beer。　I'm　thirsty。'
　　'Murphy's；'　Johnnie　says。　'You　know；　that's　not　a　bad　idea。'
　　Murphy's　was　an　Irish　saloon　on　the　South　Side。　Sawdust；　a　steam　table；　two　bartenders；　three　bouncers；　friendly　girls　at　the　bar；　and　a　room　upstairs　where　you　could　take　them。　More　rooms　in　the　back；　where　people　sometimes　met；　or　cooled　off　for　a　day　or　two。　We　knew　four　places　like　it　in　St。　Paul；　but　only　a　couple　in　Chi。　I　parked　the　Francises'　Ford　up　in　the　alley。　Johnnie　was　in　the　backseat　with　our　delirious　friend…we　weren't　yet　ready　to　call　him　our　dying　friend…and　he　was　holding　Jack's　head　against　the　shoulder　of　his　coat。
　　'Go　in　and　get　Brian　Mooney　off　the　bar；'　Johnnie　says。
　　'What　if　he　isn't　there？'
　　'Then　I　don't　know；'　Johnnie　says。
　　'Harry！'　Jack　shouts；　presumably　calling　for　Harry　Pierpont。　'That　whore　you　set　me　up　with　has　given　me　the　goddam　clap！'
　　'Go　on；'　Johnnie　says　to　me；　soothing　his　hand　through　Jack's　hair　just　like　a　mother。
　　Well；　Brian　Mooney　was　there…Johnnie's　luck　again…and　we　got　a　room　for　the　night；　although　it　cost　two　hundred　dollars；　which　was　pretty　dear；　considering　the　view　was　an　alley　and　the　toilet　was　at　the　far　end　of　the　hall。
　　'You　boys　are　hotter　than　hell；'　Brian　says。　'Mickey　McClure　would　have　sent　you　right　back　into　the　street。　There's　nothing　in　the　papers　and　on　the　radio　but　Little　Bohemia。'
　　Jack　sat　down　on　a　cot　in　the　corner；　and　got　himself　a　cigarette　and　a　cold　draft　beer。　The　beer　brought　him　back　wonderful；　he　was　almost　himself　again。　'Did　Lester　get　away？'　he　asked　Mooney。　I　looked　over　at　him　when　he　spoke　up　and　saw　a　terrible　thing。　When　he　took　a　drag　off　his　Lucky　and　inhaled；　a　little　puff　e　out　of　the　hole　in　the　back　of　his　overcoat　like　a　smoke　signal。
　　'You　mean　Baby　Face？'　Mooney　asked。
　　'You　don't　want　to　call　him　that　where　he　can　hear　you；'　Johnnie　said；　grinning。　He　was　happier　now　that　Jack　had　e　back　around；　but　he　hadn't　seen　that　puff　of　smoke　ing　out　of　his　back。　I　wished　I　hadn't；　either。
　　'He　shot　a　bunch　of　Gees　and　got　away；'　Mooney　said。　'At　least　one　of　the　Gees　is　dead；　maybe　two。　Anyway；　it　just　makes　it　that　much　worse。　You　can　stay　here　tonight；　but　you　have　to　be　gone　by　tomorrow　afternoon。'
　　He　went　out。　Johnnie　waited　a　few　seconds；　then　stuck　his　tongue　out　at　the　door　like　a　little　kid。　I　got　laughing…Johnnie　could　always　make　me　laugh。　Jack　tried　to　laugh；　too；　but　quit。　It　hurt　him　too　much。
　　'Time　to　get　you　out　of　that　coat　and　see　how　bad　it　is；　partner；'　Johnnie　said。
　　It　took　us　five　minutes。　By　the　time　he　was　down　to　his　undershirt；　all　three　of　us　were　soaked　with　sweat。　Four　or　five　times　I　had　to　put　my　hands　over　Jack's　mouth　to　muffle　him。　I　got　blood　all　over　my　cuffs。
　　There　was　no　more　than　a　rose　on　the　lining　of　his　overcoat；　but　his　white　shirt　had　gone　half　red　and　his　undershirt　was　soaked　right　through。　Sticking　up　on　the　left　side；　just　below　his　shoulder　blade；　was　a　lump　with　a　hole　in　the　middle　of　it；　like　a　little　volcano。
　　'No　more；'　Jack　says；　crying。　'Please；　no　more。'
　　'That's　all　right；'　Johnnie　says；　running　the　palm　of　his　hand　through　Jack's　hair　again。　'We're　all　done。　You　can　lie　down　now。　Go　to　sleep。　You　need　your　rest。'
　　'I　can't；'　he　says。　'It　hurts　too　much。　Oh；　God；　if　you　only　knew　how　it　hurts！　And　I　want　another　beer。　I'm　thirsty。　Only　don't　put　so　much　salt　in　it　this　time。　Where's　Harry；　where's　Charlie？'
　　Harry　Pierpont　and　Charlie　Makley；　I　guessed…Charlie　was　the　Fagin　who'd　turned　Harry　and　Jack　out　when　they　weren't　no　more　than　snotnoses。
　　'There　he　goes　again；'　Johnnie　says。　'He　needs　a　doc；　Homer；　and　you're　the　boy　who　has　to　find　one。'
　　'Jesus；　Johnnie；　this　ain't　my　town！'
　　'Doesn't　matter；'　Johnnie　says。　'If　I　go　out；　you　know　what's　going　to　happen。　I'll　write　down　some　names　and　addresses。'
　　It　ended　up　being　just　one　name　and　one　address；　and　when　I　got　there　it　was　all　for　nothing。　The　doc　（a　pill…roller　whose　mission　was　giving　abortions　and　acid　melts　to　erase　fingerprints）　had　happied　himself　to　death　on　his　own　laudanum　two　months　before。
　　
　　We　stayed　in　that　cheesy　room　behind　Murphy's　for　five　days。　Mickey　McClure　showed　up　and　tried　to　turn　us　out；　but　Johnnie　talked　to　him　in　the　way　that　Johnnie　had…when　he　turned　on　the　charm；　it　was　almost　impossible　to　tell　Johnnie　no。　And；　besides；　we　paid。　By　the　fifth　night；　the　rent　was　four　hundred；　and　we　were　forbidden　to　so　much　as　show　our　faces　in　the　taproom　for　fear　someone　would　see　us。　No　one　did；　and　as　far　as　I　know　the　cops　never　found　out　where　we　were　during　those　five　days　in　late　April。　I　wonder　how　much　Mickey　McClure　made　on　the　deal…it　was　more　than　a　grand。　We　pulled　bank　jobs　where　we　took　less。
　　I　ended　up　going　around　to　half　a　dozen　scrape　artists　and　hairline…changers。　There　wasn't　one　of　them　who　would　e　and　look　at　Jack。　Too　hot；　they　said。　It　was　the　worst　time　of　all；　and　even　now　I　hate　to　think　about　it。　Let's　just　say　that　me　and　Johnnie　found　out　what　Jesus　felt　like　when　Peter　Pilot　denied　Him　three　times　in　the　Garden　of　Gethsemane。
　　For　a　while；　Jack　was　in　and　out　of　delirium；　and　then　he　was　mostly　in。　He　talked　about　his　mother；　and　Harry　Pierpont；　and　then　about　Boobie　Clark；　a　famous　fag　from　Michigan　City　we'd　all　known。
　　'Boobie　tried　to　kiss　me；'　Jack　said　one　night；　over　and　over；　until　I　thought　I'd　go　nuts。　Johnnie　never　minded；　though。　He　just　sat　there　beside　Jack　on　the　cot；　stroking　his　hair。　He'd　cut　out　a　square　of　cloth　in　Jack's　undershirt　around　the　bullet　hole；　and　kept　painting　it　with　Mercurochrome；　but　the　skin　had　already　turned　gray…green；　and　a　smell　was　ing　out　of　the　hole。　Just　a　whiff　of　it　was　enough　to　make　your　eyes　water。
　　'That's　gangrene；'　Mickey　McClure　said　on　a　trip　to　pick　up　the　rent。　'He's　a　goner。'
　　'He's　no　goner；'　Johnnie　said。
　　Mickey　leaned　forward　with　his　fat　hands　on　his　fat　knees。　He　smelled　Jack's　breath　like　a　cop　with　a　drunk；　then　pulled　back。　'You　better　find　a　doc　fast。　Smell　it　in　a　wound；　that's　bad。　Smell　it　on　a　man's　breath　。　。　。'　Mickey　shook　his　head　and　walked　out。
　　'Fuck　him；'　Johnnie　said　to　Jack；　still　stroking　his　hair。　'What　does　he　know？'
　　Only；　Jack　didn't　say　nothing。　He　was　asleep。　A　few　hours　later；　after　Johnnie　and　I　had　gone　to　sleep　ourselves；　Jack　was　on　the　edge　of　the　bunk；　raving　about　Henry　Claudy；　the　warden　at　Michigan　City。　I…God　Claudy；　we　used　to　call　him；　because　it　was　always　I…God　I'll　do　this　and　I…God　you'll　do　that。　Jack　was　screaming　that　he'd　kill　Claudy　if　he　didn't　let　us　out。　That　got　someone　pounding　on　the　wall　and　yelling　for　us　to　shut　that　man　up。
　　Johnnie　sat　next　to　Jack　and　talked　to　him　and　got　him　soothed　down　again。
　　'Homer？'　Jack　says　after　a　while。
　　'Yes；　Jack；'　I　says。
　　'Won't　you　do　the　trick　with　the　flies？'　he　asks。
　　I　was　surprised　he　remembered　it。　'Well；'　I　says；　'I'd　be　happy　to；　but　there　ain't　no　flies　in　here。　Around　these　parts；　flies　ain't　in　season　just　yet。'
　　In　a　low；　hoarse　voice；　Jack　sang；　'There　may　be　flies　on　some　of　you　guys　but　there　ain't　no　flies　on　me。　Right；　Chummah？'
　　I　had　no　idea　who　Chummah　was；　but　I　nodded　and　patted　his　shoulder。　It　was　hot　and　sticky。　'That's　right；　Jack。'
　　There　were　big　purple　circles　under　his　eyes　and　dried　spit　on　his　lips。　He　was　already　losing　weight。　I　could　smell　him；　too。　The　smell　of　piss；　which　wasn't　so　bad；　and　the　smell　of　gangrene；　which　was。　Johnnie；　though；　never　gave　no　sign　that　he　smelled　anything　bad　at　all。
　　'Walk　on　your　hands　for　me；　John；'　Jack　said。　'Like　you　used　to。'
　　'In　a　m