Mordy tvoyay keerpicha hochetsia! somebody screamed, we sailed around the corner and a tiny little fellow with glasses peeled himself off from behind a pillar …
Hey vagabonds, wanna buy a brick, he shouted in a forced bass.
I took a look at him and left my belt alone. Sister said so he could hear … What’s he want, is that man nuts? I mean we’re only lookin around, we didn’t take anything! And to me she whispered … c’mon, the guy’s like a matchstick, he doesn’t know who we are … forget him!
We stepped out from around the corner, slowly and goodnaturedly walking toward him. He stood by the pillar, testing the brick’s weight like some manufacturer makin the rounds of the ovens … but you could tell he didn’t mean it seriously.
Hello there, I said.
You’re from Prague? You came all the way out here to see it an they went an closed the place! He threw down the brick.
What’s with the brick, said Sister.
Oh, we get all sortsa … sneakin in here an trashin it. Oughta put in a minethrower. They don’t even want it! An he was a local native, I put in a lotta work on this thing an they don’t even know who he was.
I didn’t know either, but I was embarrassed to ask in front of Sister. I think she had the same dilemma. The fellow squatted down on his haunches, looking pretty crushed.
There there, Sister said, patting him on the shoulder, I mean c’mon, they’re only pictures.
Jesus an Mary! the guy cried, folding his head into his hands. Animals … he muttered … beasts … it’s insane … it’s typical … civilization! I’m goin back! Let it all collapse, see if I care! I’ve got my own stuff … Andy! Ach, Andy, fuck it all.
Slowly me and Sister retreated. Outside, after that gruesome display, I let out a deep breath. Poor kid, said my sis, guess he was off the mark on what the locals’ taste was like. Think he painted all that? Obviously, he looks it. But he said somethin about a local. It was probly that Joseph guy, said Černá, the only locals he does portraits of re some killer an a blonde slut, an he wonders why they don’t like it, talk about naive. What they want on the walls around here is cash, murderers, soup cans, corpses, car crashes, execution chambers … Černá counted off on her fingers … they’re dumb, they don’t know that’s all they got … practically. Who else’d want this stuff, no big town.
You’re a smart one, Černá, that’s the way it is!
It was dark outside … in front of the battered synagogue, now a margarine warehouse, which I noticed but thought better of sharing with Sister … we told each other our secrets, and hers was a terrible one … I only told her part of mine, didn’t dredge up the main thing.
And so for once we were quiet, but then Sister poked me, the clocktower showed nearly midnight, we fled to the station, hopping on the train just as it was pulling out, a fella stood by the door, pale as a candle, I asked: Prague, yeah? Praha, Prága! Nach Prag, sonuvabitch … he just nodded and gave me a faraway look, probly sloshed … we found a free compartment and snuggled up, smiling … and since all’s permitted in love and war, as the Old Bulletins of the Elders of Zion say, and in a passionate embrace the two merge, and it’s never a bore, and especially not when it’s always the same an always new an goin somewhere … we provocatively drew the curtains, audaciously bolted the door, and began feeding on each other in the figurative sense. Then we succumbed to dreams. The door flew open and in walked … that pale guy that’d been by the door, in a uniform though, a conductor’s. Hope I hadn’t offended him. He stood there smiling, drew back his pale, narrow lips … two to Prága, I said, I was surprised to see him lift the cash up to the light and inspect it with amusement, like it was the first time in his life he’d seen the new, independent Czech moola. Then he handed me two tickets, I stuck them in my pocket.
Hooh, Sister shuddered, guy was weird. He smelled funny.
Yep, shepherd’s son in an ill-fitting uniform. I mean everyone out here crosses emselves. But that guy was weird. So’re we. By morning, maybe afternoon, we oughta be in Prague.
God willing, said Sister.
An why wouldn’t he be? Uh … I hushed up.
After a while I got thirsty … and hungry.
I wouldn’t mind somethin either … but don’t go anywhere. It’s dumb, I know, but do you hear the train?
Aha. I didn’t hear any ties, or wheels. I darted to the window, the landscape rushed past, changing, not the darkness, just an occasional flash of light from some town or gorod or wherever it was we were.
Oh, know what, it’s probly one a those ultramodern Western turbo-charged … shinkansens.
You’re all pale! What’s wrong!
Nothin, nonsense. I’m goin to scope it out. Come with me if you’re afraid to stay.
Me? She bristled. But I just took off my boots, it still hurts, be back soon!
I walked down the aisle, peeking into compartments, not a soul … the train was empty, butt or two on the ground here an there, stains, bottles, I picked up one that rolled under my feet … didn’t know the brand … but inside was a spiderweb with a little black … don’t clean too much here, do they … I walked on, just about ready to give it up, the curtains flapped out the windows of the empty compartments into the night like they were tryin to get away, curtains with a mind a their own, idiot? Hush up, you’re only hurting yourself … but at last I found the dining car, it was empty too … on the tables tablecloths and fake flowers and salt and pepper shakers, the waiter busying himself in the back by the counter, back to me, I went up and coughed politely, he turned around an I felt my heart start poundin wildly … that same guy … smilin … beer, I rasped … he bowed an took off, after all why not, I mean the train’s empty, he can handle it, bigger take for him, I reassured myself, on the whole unsuccessfully … he handed me some bottles in a plastic bag, again smiling and shaking his head at the coins … I made sure to keep my distance, some types I just can’t stand, instinctively an right off the bat.
Fear gripped me. The thought of going back through that empty train, curtains flapping to nowhere … I opened one of the bottles on a window in the dining car, and chugged it, Sister, forgive me! Černá … my vision went black. She’s back there all alone, I rammed into the door and almost fell. A Gypsy family sat in the aisle, splayed out on their bundles. I stared at them, I guess … like some goof walkin into the bedroom on his old lady an she’s, well, I’d wish him all the best … one of the men stood up. I climbed over them. The whole train was a ruckus, columns of cigarette smoke billowed everywhere. I fought my way through a pack of drunken soldiers, held my nose with two fingers by the toilet, clambered over a teenager wrapped in a jacket with an embroidered skull winkin up at me, belly to the floor. In one compartment a German shepherd sat on the bench, a tramp sprawled on the floor with his guitar, I barked. People in the aisle were guzzlin beer an gobblin crackers, I got a close-up look at their ruddy faces, stomped on one of em’s foot, to see if he was alive, he swung round. Ugh, guess so … train must’ve stopped while I was in the dining car, yeah, that’s it … me and Černá both’re gettin hypersensitive … Ušanica’s by the border, it’s obvious, they just got on, why bother with customs … smokes! She’ll get testy, me too. I traded two beers for a pack of … Bělomorka, well, we’ll see. White Plague, didn’t like the sound of it, but I was in a hurry. Every now and then a figure peeled itself off from the aisle, full of smoke and the moon’s night mist, and slipped past me, I stood still, collecting my breath, Uchryujte, I heard, a greeting, a curse, a secret password? Chrunchru, said a mamluk in a turban apologetically, shoving me out of his way, step aside, said one of ours, ramming into me. From some compartments I heard snoring, from others shouting, boozing, gorging, bottles smashing. Spotted a Soviet Army uniform. He lay snoring away on his back, next to him some bum with an officer’s cap on his head, red T-shirt, earrings, blue tattoos all over. They sprawled across each other, the soldier’s gold teeth on display, a puddle of drool on his shirt collar. The muffled sounds of a brawl near the toilet. Someone hadn’t paid for something, did something, lost something, stole it, better not to know. The whole train unanimously celebrated the successful traversing of another border. True, a couple hucksters were removed from the train, but the rest were unstoppably headed for Prague. It stank like hell.