sk.everythingseventual-第23部分

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　　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　minute；'　Johnnie　said。　He　poured　Jack　a　glass　of　water。
　　'Drink　this　first。　Wet　your　whistle。　Then　I'll　see　if　I　can　still　get　across　the　room　upside　down。　Remember　when　I　used　to　run　on　my　hands　in　the　shirt　factory？　After　I　ran　all　the　way　to　the　gate；　they　stuck　me　in　the　hole。'
　　'I　remember；'　Jack　said。
　　Johnnie　didn't　do　no　walking　on　his　hands　that　night。　By　the　time　he　got　the　glass　of　water　to　Jack's　lips；　the　poor　bugger　had　gone　back　to　sleep　with　his　head　on　Johnnie's　shoulder。
　　'He's　gonna　die；'　I　said。
　　'He's　not；'　Johnnie　said。
　　
　　The　next　morning；　I　asked　Johnnie　what　we　were　going　to　do。　What　we　could　do。
　　'I　got　one　more　name　out　of　McClure。　Joe　Moran。　McClure　says　he　was　the　go…between　on　the　Bremer　kidnapping。　If　he'll　fix　Jack　up；　it's　worth　a　thousand　to　me。'
　　'I　got　six　hundred；'　I　said。　And　I'd　give　it　up；　but　not　for　Jack　Hamilton。　Jack　had　gone　beyond　needing　a　doctor；　what　Jack　needed　by　then　was　a　preacher。　I　did　it　for　Johnnie　Dillinger。
　　'Thanks；　Homer；'　he　said。　'I'll　be　back　in　an　hour。　Meantime；　you　mind　the　baby。'　But　Johnnie　looked　bleak。　He　knew　that　if　Moran　wouldn't　help　us　we'd　have　to　get　out　of　town。　It　would　mean　taking　Jack　back　to　St。　Paul　and　trying　there。　And　we　knew　what　going　back　in　a　stolen　Ford　would　likely　mean。　It　was　the　spring　of　1934　and　all　three　of　us…me；　Jack；　and　especially　Johnnie…were　on　J。　Edgar　Hoover's　list　of　'public　enemies。'
　　'Well；　good　luck；'　I　says。　'See　you　in　the　funny　pages。'
　　He　went　out。　I　mooned　around。　I　was　mighty　sick　of　the　room　by　then。　It　was　like　being　back　in　Michigan　City；　only　worse。　Because　when　you　were　in　stir　they'd　done　the　worst　they　could　to　you。　Here；　hiding　out　in　the　back　of　Murphy's；　things　could　always　get　worse。
　　Jack　muttered；　then　he　dropped　off　again。
　　There　was　a　chair　at　the　foot　of　the　cot；　with　a　cushion。　I　took　the　cushion　and　sat　down　beside　Jack。　It　wouldn't　take　long；　I　didn't　think。　And　when　Johnnie　came　back　I'd　only　have　to　say　that　poor　old　Jack　took　one　final　breath　and　just　copped　out。　The　cushion　would　be　back　on　the　chair。　Really；　it　would　be　doing　Johnnie　a　favor。　Jack；　too。
　　'I　see　you；　Chummah；'　Jack　says　suddenly。　I　tell　you；　it　scared　the　living　hell　out　of　me。
　　'Jack！'　I　says；　putting　my　elbows　on　that　cushion。　'How　you　doing？'
　　His　eyes　drifted　closed。　'Do　the　trick　。　。　。　with　the　flies；'　he　says；　and　then　he　was　asleep　again。　But　he'd　woken　up　at　just　the　right　time；　if　he　hadn't；　Johnnie　would　have　found　a　dead　man　on　that　cot。
　　
　　When　Johnnie　finally　did　e　back；　he　practically　busted　down　the　door。　I　had　my　gun　out。　He　saw　it　and　laughed。　'Put　away　the　bean　shooter；　pal；　and　pack　up　your　troubles　in　your　old　kit　bag！'
　　'What's　up？'
　　'We're　getting　out　of　here；　that's　what。'　He　looked　five　years　younger。　'High　time；　wouldn't　you　say？'
　　'Yeah。'
　　'He　been　all　right　while　I　was　gone？'
　　'Yeah；'　I　said。　The　cushion　lying　on　the　chair　had　SEE　YOU　IN　CHICAGO　written　on　it　in　needlework。
　　'No　change？'
　　'No　change。　Where　are　we　going？'
　　'Aurora；'　Johnnie　said。　'It's　a　little　town　upstate。　We're　going　to　move　in　with　Volney　Davis　and　his　girlfriend。'　He　leaned　over　the　cot。　Jack's　red　hair；　thin　to　start　with；　had　started　falling　out。　It　was　on　the　pillow；　and　you　could　see　the　crown　of　his　head；　white　as　snow。　'You　hear　that；　Jack？'　Johnnie　shouts。　'We're　hot　now；　but　we're　going　to　cool　off　quick！　You　understand？'
　　'Walk　on　your　hands　like　Johnnie　Dillinger　used　to；'　Jack　said；　without　opening　his　eyes。
　　Johnnie　just　kept　smiling。　He　winked　at　me。　'He　understands；'　he　said。　'He's　just　not　awake。　You　know？'
　　'Sure；'　I　said。
　　
　　On　the　ride　up　to　Aurora；　Jack　sat　against　the　window；　his　head　fly…ing　up　and　then　thumping　against　the　glass　every　time　we　hit　a　pothole。　He　was　holding　long；　muttery　conversations　with　folks　we　couldn't　see。　Once　we　were　out　of　town；　me　and　Johnnie　had　to　roll　down　our　windows。　The　smell　was　just　too　bad　other