Now, that’s the thing, Jason. That’s the little clause there. That’s the fine print, man. You ain’t giving me nothing, don’t you see? You saying to me, man, come on, in the morning you going to be equal with everybody in the entire world, everybody gonna be black like you. Only trouble is everybody also gonna be dead like you. But never mind that, you want liberty and equality, don’t you, man?
Jason, I want liberty and equality.
My mother used to say, Amos, you got to go to college. I used to say, Yes, Mom. She used to say, Amos, you got to better yourself. I used to say, Yes, Mom. She used to tell me, Amos, this a white world and you got to prepare yourself for it, you got to work hard, you got to study, you got to be somebody.
I used to say, Yes, Mom.
Someday, Jason, I’m gonna stop hating white men, and I’m gonna stop hating white niggers like Harry, maybe someday. But being dead ain’t the way to do it. When I’m dead, it’ll be too late to stop hating, and too late to begin loving, it’ll be too goddamn late.
I wish I could stop you, Amos thought.
I wish I was somebody.
Traitors, Tannenbaum thought; they are traitors.
They have come here to murder reason; we cannot let them do it. They have come here to make a war, God forbid; we cannot let them do it. Here in this room, we must stop them before it is too late. Here in this room, these people, we must rise up and stop them.
In Nazi Germany they did not rise up until it was too late. Now, in the town where my father was born, there are only seventeen Jews. Half of them are very old men who are dying. The Jews of the world are all either dead or dying because no one stood up, no one got up on his own two feet to say, Stop! Enough! You cannot do this to us!
Someone in this room will stop them, Tannenbaum thought.
Slowly and with an almost painful scrutiny, Tannenbaum studied the faces of his allies. These are the people who will have to do it somehow, he thought. We are the sentries. We are standing here without guns, but it is us who will either stop Jason Trench or allow him to turn loose a terrible thing.
I am very happy here, Tannenbaum thought. I like this town, I like the sunshine here, I enjoy my life here. Why did Jason Trench have to come to us?
Someone in this room will stop him, Tannenbaum thought.
Someone will rise and
No, he thought.
His brow lowered.
No one will stop him because everyone will be waiting for someone else to stop him. It will be the Jews all over again. Only this time the entire world could be an oven.
Unless.
Unless I, Herbert Tannenbaum, stand up.
But I have a bad heart, he thought.
“What we shoulda done,” Red Canaday said, “was stop back there in Marathon. That’s what we shoulda done.”
“We’ll see something,” Felix Potter said. “Don’t worry.”
“You didn’t wanna stop in Tavernier, you didn’t wanna stop in Islamorada, you didn’t wanna stop in Marathon. Now I’ll bet there ain’t gonna be nothing till we get down to Key West. How much you want to bet?”
“There’ll be something,” Felix said.
“What time is it?” Red asked.
Felix took his left hand from the wheel and looked at his wrist. “Four-twenty.”
“I’m starving,” Red said.
“You had lunch in Miami.”
“That was in Miami. And that was a long time ago.”
“It wasn’t so long ago. You just got a tapeworm, that’s all.”
“Sitting in a truck all day makes me hungry.”
“We’ll see something, don’t worry,” Felix said.
The truck rumbled westward, a huge 25,000-pound Diesel with silvered sides and a green cab. It seemed to occupy almost all of the road as it crossed the Seven Mile Bridge and then came onto Little Duck Key, continuing west to Missouri Key and then crossing the short bridge that led to Ohio Key.
“There you go,” Felix said.
“What?”
“Didn’t you see the sign there?”
“Yeah, it said Ohio Key.”
“The one next to it, the one next to it.”
“What’d it say?” Red asked.
“It said you’re gonna be eating soon.”
“What do you mean?”
“It said there’s a diner just ahead.”
I need a drink, Bobby Colmore thought.
He tried to understand why Marvin had taken the bottle of thinner from the shelf and put it behind the bench. He realized that he was the only person in the room who had seen Marvin grab the bottle — everyone else had been watching Cummings — and he wondered now if his observation hadn’t been something more than chance, something like divine providence. Surely there was no one else in the shop to whom the thinner meant anything. Surely he was the only person to whom the thinner represented something more than a fluid to mix with paint. But if that was the case, what was Marvin’s interest in it?
He studied Marvin owlishly.
He did not look like a drinker, but sometimes you couldn’t tell about a man. Sometimes a man looked like a banker or a real estate agent, and it turned out he was really nothing but a sodden bum like all the others. There had been a guy in Boston whom everybody called the Preacher because he was always violently exhorting the guys to drop the booze and live a life of clean underwear and white sheets. But they had found the Preacher dead in Scollay Square one morning and everybody decided he’d been drinking wood alcohol. So you couldn’t tell about a man. And if the doctor’s son wasn’t a drinker, then why had he snatched that half-gallon bottle of thinner? What could he possibly hope to do with it, if not drink it?
So you’re a boozer, huh? Bobby thought. Shake hands, pal, only don’t try to grab it all for yourself, huh? There’s a second bottle right there on the shelf, and that’s for me, okay? You keep what you’ve got, but leave one for me, okay? Leave some for little old Bobby. Or are you trying to keep it from me, is that it? Are you afraid I’ll get obnoxiously drunk and dangerous? Are you afraid I’ll curse in front of the ladies and vomit in front of the men and cause God knows what kind of trouble with those two hoodlums and their rifles, trouble that would put your precious little hide in danger? Don’t worry, buddy.
Those men are going to start a war tomorrow morning.
Don’t worry about what little trouble I can cause.
All I want is a lousy drink. That’s all I’ve wanted since as long as I can remember. And not you or anyone else.
Marvin suddenly moved into action.
14
The cap was off the bottle; he had unscrewed the cap cautiously and slowly. The cigarette was between his lips, the lighter was in his right hand, his thumb was on the wheel. His left hand was dangling behind the bench, hovering over the top of the bottle. Harry had his back to him. Clyde was just turning away. This was the time, now!
His left hand hit the half-gallon bottle, knocking it over. His right hand thumbed the lighter into flame. The colorless fluid ran from the neck of the bottle and onto the wooden floor — God, don’t let it be water, Marvin thought. Harry turned sharply and abruptly. The liquid was spreading; it ran from the neck of the bottle in a thin rapid stream, racing across the center of the shop. “What the hell?” Harry said, and Marvin dropped the flaming lighter into it. He reared back at once because the fluid at his feet went up in flames and backed into the bottle, which exploded under the bench sending flying glass fragments scattering like pieces of a hand grenade. The trail of flame shot across the length of the room, almost touching the oil cans where Amos and Selma were sitting. Harry was standing in the middle of the room, his mouth hanging open in surprise as the flame shot past him. Clyde whipped around with his rifle waist-high, ready to shoot somebody. Marvin was off the bench. He whirled toward the shelves. The second bottle was in his hands.