As time went on, I took an interest in the little one … it started gettin a little drastic … Chiharu flipping her this way and that, dragging her by the hair, stabbing her with needles … I was doped up on the tea and whatever it was they put in it, but I started to think that little girl wasn’t just acting her pain. And then they killed her. I was right there. When the guy stood up from the throne and ran her through, I thought it was all staged, including the blood … then Chiharu stabbed her too, it was awful what they did to her. And I couldn’t move. They slit her open and ripped out her guts. I stood there naked, my brain awash with the drug, intensifying the colors, jiggling the images … hearing the whir of the cameras as the guys ran around … maybe a little faster than usual … then Chiharu, after all that, slit the girl’s throat and the guy with the camera leaned over her, straddled her … while she twitched. I started hopping.
You couldn’t hear a thing in that cellar. No windows. I was scared.
I didn’t bother asking why she got me out of there. Maybe it was because we had known each other so long. I found her revolting … indescribably so. That got to her a little. You don’t understand … she said, there’s hundreds of thousands of girls like her, maybe millions … they dug her up in some camp, at least she got to live like a human being a while … do you know how many there are, in Thailand, in Hong Kong, just waitin for someone to help … they’d do anything to get out … they used to shoot these films over there … you know how much they cost? An believe me, the people who watch these things … who need em … for every girl they … shoot, they pay the way for a hundred more, she’s a sacrifice. That’s how they appease the evil powers. Not just anyone can shoot this stuff. Only us. Leave it alone. How do you know what’s right? Even you’re not good enough to be with me.
That’s for sure. But thanks anyway. I thought it was my turn next.
She broke out laughing again. Just imagine, she said, the camera jammed. That never happens. Otherwise the Dragon would never’ve let you go. That’s the only reason, I don’t take chances. You’re lucky, no one believes it was an accident it jammed. That’s why you could go. Trust that you’re intended to meet a different end. But don’t ever mention this. It would be very dangerous. For you.
So, Chiharu, where’s your girlfriend, where’s Shimako?
She didn’t answer. And I laughed. I laughed at her because I was overcome with … heavy-duty hopelessness. No, Chiharu, I donno what’s right. An you don’t either. Where’s your girl? Tell me …
I guess because I was laughing, she turned around, walked slowly toward the door … very slowly, as if we still had something to say to each other … but then slammed it behind her. With a strength no one would expect from such a fragile being. And the door remains shut to this day, because we never met again. And I hope we never do.
After that I got outta Berlun. And I carried that little girl’s face around inside me a long time. I still remember the bitter taste of that stuff they gave me too. That stuff that changed the colors so much it made me a worthless witness. I still have the taste on my tongue, I’ve forgotten the taste of the skin. I haven’t said a word about it all this time. It’s so sick I don’t think anyone would believe me anyway. And my description of what they did to her was exceptionally restrained.
21
TO THE PLACE WITH THE SIGN, BUT … THE STRING. KING KRONGOLD’S CRUSADE. THE MISSION. WHAT FM CAPABLE OF. AN I SCREAM.
At the train station … it was the same as before, maybe a few more colors and glass surfaces, I knew I could be at the place with the sign on foot in half an hour. I was on my home turf. And I had the pistol from Černá, and down there in the cellar was where my journey had begun. I’d come full circle. Only …
Only then I had a shot. And another. And another. I stayed.
The people I fell in with were from all over. The only thing they had in common was the face cover. The mask. A dull mask of indifference, maybe it was already a mask from the other side. I’d escaped an aviary only to end up in an aquarium. Piranhas included. Sometimes the faces would open up, ignited by a memory, or more often a bottle, or rage. Even the weepiest ones had so much hatred inside. I steered clear of … people, but even then you only end up backing into more. Carbon copies. Gangs I avoided too. Usually they were transitory, just met, hung out … and moved on. The station was a dangerous place for anyone who had anything. Soon I knew the corridors too. Knew all you had to do was tell Gramps: Fuck off! The stronger ones he left alone, the weaker ones had to pay to sleep downstairs by the crappers.
Help yourself, said Howdoyoudo good-naturedly, nudging a bowl my way. The gentleman who’d gone and got the soup slid over without a word. Thanks, I mumbled. Only Howdoyoudo could get away with stunts like that. Even the staff of the cafeterias and stands got a kick out of her. Their crews changed constantly too. Almost as fast as the bums’. I spent most of my time in the halflight in the corners. Didn’t want to take the chance of meeting someone I knew. Not that I was ashamed, I didn’t give a damn anymore. But I was thinking things over and didn’t want to be interrupted. Sometimes I could think two hours, sometimes a half, it was torture. That’s what I wanted. Recollecting people and fragments of sentences, pondering my mistake. Otherwise, I clouded my brain. Watched the steam from the ventilators, sometimes it was misty outside, sometimes it was dark. A couple times I tried to go out, but the heat would always stop me. That and the bugs. In the concourse, which was built into a hill, and that means underground, it was nice and cool. As long as I sat down somewhere and kept my mouth shut, people left me alone. I didn’t take part in the contests for scraps of meat, various revolting leftovers, I found stuff here and there. The only thing that mattered to me was keeping the darkness in my head in balance with the light that flickered on … furtively … every now and then. My head hurt. A couple times before, I’d had a wincing toothache. Now it was a vein in my head. A tensing and relaxing, like a short cord or a length of wire. It pulsed, it twitched. In my head. It hurt.
Then Howdoyoudo started giving me food. She also gave me wine. I followed her around like a puppy dog, they told me. Howdoyoudo Lolly was an older woman, probly had a few drops of black blood in her. Kinky hair, thick lips. Picked up her nickname hunting customers. She’d always say How do you do and then trot out her offer.
Once I was feeling better, I’d sit out on the hillside, by the ventilators. The air there was cool. I often slept. It was still warm outside. One time … I ran my hand under my shirt … the pistol was there. Quite possibly, quite possibly I’d tried to get rid of it in the course of my wanderings. But there it was.
What’s with you? someone said. Shut the fuck up! Well look who’s up, everyone, it’s Ducky … what’d you call me … you been waddlin roun like a duck … they almost took you away, but Howdoyoudo wouldn’t let em … kch heh heh. We sat out between the railroad cars drinking. Want Drool? Hey you, wanna drool? a scabby face bent over me. I shoved him away and went out to the ties … I’d found a pile of railroad ties out back, tossed a few together one day, built myself a fortress … no one else knew about it. That was where I spent most of my time. Time. It didn’t move. Inside the ties, it was like being sealed in a can. No one knew about me. It occurred to me I could do it in there. I’d sit and lie around and hang my head … because sometimes it hurt a lot. The string.