sk.everythingseventual-第23节

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　　A　privy's　a　damned　fine　place　for　fly…roping。　I　took　up　my　station　outside　the　door；　then　proceeded　to　make　loops　in　the　pieces　of　thread　Rabbits　had　given　me。　After　that；　there　was　nothing　to　it　except　not　moving　much。　Those　were　the　skills　I'd　learned　on　the　mat。　You　don't　forget　them。
　　It　didn't　take　long。　Flies　are　out　in　early　May；　but　they're　slow　flies。　And　anyone　who　thinks　it's　impossible　to　lasso　a　horsefly　。　。　。　well；　all　I　can　say　is；　if　you　want　a　challenge；　try　mosquitoes。
　　I　took　three　casts　and　got　my　first　one。　That　was　nothing；　there　were　times　on　the　mat　when　I'd　spend　half　the　morning　before　I　got　my　first。　Right　after　I　snagged　him；　Rabbits　cried　out；　'What　in　God's　name　are　you　doing？　Is　it　magic？'
　　From　a　distance；　it　did　look　like　magic。　You　have　to　imagine　how　it　appeared　to　her；　twenty　yards　away：　man　standing　by　a　privy　throws　out　a　little　piece　of　thread…at　nothing；　so　far　as　you　can　see…but；　instead　of　drifting　to　the　ground；　the　thread　hangs　in　midair！　It　was　attached　to　a　good…sized　horsefly。　Johnnie　would　have　seen　it；　but　Rabbits　didn't　have　Johnnie's　eyes。
　　I　got　the　end　of　the　thread　and　taped　it　to　the　handle　of　the　privy　door　with　the　Band…Aid。　Then　I　went　after　the　next　one。　And　the　next。　Rabbits　came　out　to　get　a　closer　look；　and　I　told　her　that　she　could　stay　if　she　was　quiet；　and　she　tried；　but　she　wasn't　good　at　being　quiet　and　finally　I　had　to　tell　her　she　was　scaring　off　the　game　and　send　her　back　inside。
　　I　worked　the　privy　for　an　hour　and　a　half…long　enough　that　I　couldn't　smell　it　anymore。　Then　it　started　getting　cold；　and　my　flies　were　sluggish。　I'd　got　five。　By　Pendleton　standards；　that　was　quite　a　herd；　although　not　that　many　for　a　man　standing　next　to　a　shithouse。　Anyway；　I　had　to　get　inside　before　it　got　too　cold　for　them　to　stay　airborne。
　　When　I　came　walking　slowly　through　the　kitchen；　Dock；　Volney；　and　Rabbits　were　all　laughing　and　clapping。　Jack's　bedroom　was　on　the　other　side　of　the　house；　and　it　was　shadowy　and　dim。　That　was　why　I'd　asked　for　white　thread　instead　of　black。　I　looked　like　a　man　with　a　handful　of　strings　leading　up　to　invisible　balloons。　Except　that　you　could　hear　the　flies　buzzing…all　mad　and　bewildered；　like　anything　else　that's　been　caught　it　don't　know　how。
　　'I　be　dog；'　Dock　Barker　says。　'I　mean　it；　Homer。　Double　dog。　Where'd　you　learn　to　do　that？'
　　'Pendleton　Reformatory；'　I　says。
　　'Who　showed　you？'
　　'Nobody；'　I　said。　'I　just　did　it　one　day。'
　　'Why　don't　they　tangle　the　strings？'　Volney　asked。　His　eyes　were　as　big　as　grapes。　It　tickled　me；　I　tell　you　that。
　　'Dunno；'　I　says。　'They　always　fly　in　their　own　space　and　don't　hardly　ever　cross。　It's　a　mystery。'
　　'Homer！'　Johnnie　yells　from　the　other　room。　'If　you　got　em；　this'd　be　a　good　time　to　get　in　here　with　em！'
　　I　started　across　the　kitchen；　tugging　the　flies　along　by　their　halters　like　a　good　fly　cowboy；　and　Rabbits　touched　my　arm。　'Be　careful；'　she　says。　'Your　pal　is　going；　and　it's　made　your　other　pal　crazy。　He'll　be　better…after…but　right　now　he's　not　safe。'
　　I　knew　it　better　than　she　did。　When　Johnnie　set　his　heart　on　a　thing；　he　almost　always　got　it。　Not　this　time；　though。
　　Jack　was　propped　up　on　the　pillows　with　his　head　in　the　corner；　and　although　his　face　was　white　as　paper；　he　was　in　his　right　mind　again。　He'd　e　around　at　the　end；　like　folks　sometimes　do。
　　'Homer！'　he　says；　just　as　bright　as　you　could　want。　Then　he　sees　the　strings　and　laughs。　It　was　a　shrill；　whistley　laughter；　not　a　bit　right；　and　immediately　he　starts　to　cough。　Coughing　and　laughing；　all　mixed　together。　Blood　es　out　of　his　mouth…some　splattered　on　my　strings。　'Just　like　Michigan　City！'　he　says；　and　pounds　his　leg。　More　blood　now；　running　down　his　chin　and　dripping　onto　his　undershirt。　'Just　like　old　times！'　He　coughed　again。
　　Johnnie's　face　looked　terrible。　I　could　see　he　wanted　me　to　get　out　of　the　bedroom　before　Jack　tore　himself　apart；　at　the　same　time；　he　knew　it　didn't　matter　a　fiddler's　fuck；　and　if　this　was　a　way　Jack　could　die　happy；　looking　at　a　handful　of　roped　shithouse　flies；　then　so　be　it。
　　'Jack；'　I　says；　'you　got　to　be　quiet。'
　　'Naw；　I'm　all　right　now；'　he　says；　grinning　and　wheezing。　'Bring　em　over　here！　Bring　em　over　where　I　can　see！'　But　before　he　could　say　any　more　he　was　coughing　again；　all　bent　over　with　his　knees　up；　and　the　sheet；　spattered　with　a　spray　of　blood；　like　a　trough　between　them。
　　I　looked　at　Johnnie　and　he　nodded。　He'd　passed　beyond　something　in　his　mind。　He　beckoned　me　over。　I　went　slowly；　the　strings　in　my　hand；　floating　up；　just　white　lines　in　the　gloom。　And　Jack　too　tickled　to　know　he　was　coughing　his　last。
　　'Let　em　go；'　he　says；　in　a　wet　and　husky　voice　I　could　hardly　understand。　'I　remember　。　。　。'
　　And　so　I　did。　I　let　the　strings　go。　For　a　second　or　two；　they　stayed　clumped　together　at　the　bottom…stuck　together　on　the　sweat　from　my　palm…and　then　they　drifted　apart；　hanging　straight　and　upright　in　the　air。　I　suddenly　thought　of　Jack　standing　in　the　street　after　the　Mason　City　bank　job。　He　was　firing　his　tommy　gun　and　was　covering　me　and　Johnnie　and　Lester　as　we　herded　the　hostages　to　the　getaway　car。　Bullets　flew　all　around　him；　and　although　he　took　a　flesh　wound；　he　looked　like　he'd　live　forever。　Now　he　lay　with　his　knees　sticking　up　in　a　sheet　filled　with　blood。
　　'Golly；　look　at　em；'　he　says　as　the　white　strings　rose　up；　all　on　their　own。
　　'That　ain't　all；　either；'　Johnnie　says。　'Watch　this。'　He　then　walked　one　step　to　the　kitchen　door；　turned；　and　took　a　bow。　He　was　grinning；　but　it　was　the　saddest　grin　I　ever　saw　in　my　life。　All　we　did　was　the　best　we　could；　we　couldn't　very　well　give　him　a　last　meal；　could　we？　'Remember　how　I　used　to　walk　on　my　hands　in　the　shirt　shop？'
　　'Yeah！　Don't　forget　the　spiel！'　Jack　says。
　　'Ladies　and　gentlemen！'　Johnnie　says。　'Now　in　the　center　ring　for　your　delight　and　amazement；　John　Herbert　Dillinger！'　He　said　the　'G'　hard；　the　way　his　old　man　said　it；　the　way　he　had　said　it　himself　before　he　got　so　famous。　Then　he　clapped　once　and　dived　forward　onto　his　hands。　Buster　Crabbe　couldn't　have　done　it　better。　His　pants　slid　up　to　his　knees；　showing　the　tops　of　his　stockings　and　his　shins。　His　change　e　out　of　his　pockets　and　rattled　away　across　the　boards。　He　started　walking　across　the　floor　that　way；　limber　as　ever；　singing　'Tra…ra…ra…boom…de…ay！'　at　the　top　of　his　voice。　The　keys　from　the　stolen　Ford　fell　out　of　his　pocket；　too。　Jack　was　laughing　in　these　big　hoarse　gusts…like　he　had　the　flu…and　Dock　Barker　and　Rabbits　and　Volney；　all　crowded　in　the　doorway；　were　also　laughing。　Fit　to　split。　Rabbits　clapped　her　hands　and　called　'Bravo！　Encore！'　Above　my　head　the　white　threads　were　still　floating　on；　only　drifting　apart　a　little　at　a　time。　I　was　laughing　along　with　the　rest；　and　then　I　saw　what　was　going　to　happen　and　I　stopped。
　　'Johnnie！'　I　shouted。　'Johnnie；　look　out　for　your　gun！　Look　out　for　your　gun！'
　　It　was　that　goddam　。38　he　kept　tucked　into　the　top　of　his　pants。　It　was　working　free　of　his　belt。
　　'Huh？'　he　said；　and　then　it　dropped　onto　the　floor　on　top　of　the　keys　and　went　off。　A　。38　isn't　the　world's　loudest　gun；　but　it　was　loud　enough　in　that　back　bedroom。　And　the　flash　was　plenty　bright。　Dock　yelled　and　Rabbits　screamed。　Johnnie　didn't　say　nothing；　just　did　a　plete　somersault　and　fell　flat　on　his　face。　His　feet　came　down　with　a　crash；　almost　hitting　the　foot　of　the　bed　Jack　Hamilton　was　dying　in。　Then　he　just　lay　there。　I　ran　to　him；　brushing　the　white　threads　aside。
　　At　first　I　thought　he　was　dead；　because　when　I　turned　him　over　there　was　blood　all　over　his　mouth　and　his　cheek。　Then　he　sat　up。　He　wiped　his　face；　looked　at　the　blood；　then　looked　at　me。
　　'Holy　shit；　Homer；　did　I　just　shoot　myself？'　Johnnie　says。
　　'I　think　you　did；'　I　says。
　　'How　bad　is　it？'
　　Before　I　could　tell　him　I　didn't　know；　Rabbits　pushed　me　to　the　side　and　wiped　away　the　blood　with　her　apron。　She　looked　at　him　hard　for　a　second　or　two；　and　then　she　says；　'You're　all　right。　It's　just　a　scrape。'　Only　we　seen　later；　when　she　dabbled　him　up　with　the　iodine；　that　it　was　actually　two　scrapes。　The　bullet　cut　through　the　skin　over　his　lip　on　the　right　side；　flew　through　maybe　two　inches　of　air；　then　it　cut　him　again　on　the　cheekbone；　right　beside　his　eye。　After　that　it　went　into　the　ceiling；　but　before　it　did　it　plugged　one　of　my　flies。　I　know　that's　hard　to　believe；　but　it's　true；　I　swear。　The　fly　lay　there　on　the　floor　in　a　little　heap　of　white　thread；　nothing　left　of　it　but　a　couple　of　legs。
　　'Johnnie？'　Dock　says。　'I　think　I　got　some　bad　news　for　you；　partner。'　He　didn't　have　to　tell　us　what　it　was。　Jack　was　still　sitting　up；　but　now　his　head　was　bowed　over　so　far　that　his　hair　was　touching　the　sheet　between　his　knees。　While　we　were　checking　to　see　how　bad　Johnnie　was　hurt；　Jack　had　died。
　　
　　Dock　told　us　to　take　the　body　to　a　gravel　pit　about　two　miles　farther　down　the　road；　just　past　the　Aurora　town　line。　There　was　a　bottle　of　lye　under　the　sink；　and　Rabbits　gave　it　to　us。　'You　know　what　to　do　with　this；　don't　you？'　she　asks。
　　'Sure；'　Johnnie　says。　He　had　one　of　her　Band…Aids　stuck　on　his　upper　lip；　over　that　place　where　h