John Sayles - The Anarchist's Convention and Other Stories

"Somebody told em they could eat in California."

Mr. Miles shivered as if the recollection chilled him.

"And how bout you, young fella?" called Daniel. "What's your excuse?"

Brian shrugged. "Where else is there to go?"

The men all laughed, Cervantes the hardest though he had no idea of what they were talking about.

"Sometimes," said Daniel Boone staring out over the water, "I get the feeling that if I concentrated, I could just drift on west, out across the ocean, past all the limits, into another dimension."

"More p-power to you, Dan'l. When you leavin?"

"Who could concentrate with a bunch of beach rummies around him? Sides, I got to take a piss."

"Well you better walk back to the bus station," said Pete, "cause I think that's Cramer in the squad car parked behind us and he'll bust you for exposure if you whizz over the wall. Mean bastard, that one."

"I tell you," said Daniel, creaking to his feet, "they wear a man down." He shook his head to clear it and headed into town.

"Old Dan'l," said Miles when he was out of earshot. "Man wasn't born, he was fermented."

"Bet he's got the happiest body lice in town, though. Only fella I know can match him for alcoholic content is that old Stuffy."

"Stofey, he can no be fine," blurted Cervantes. "He no be here no there no anywhere this morning. He disappear tot Stofey."

"Oklahoma," said Pete, "you haven't seen an old wreck, looks like he used his head for a croquet mallet, big old green overcoat, smell'd gag a maggot? Talks like water going down a drain?"

"Nope. Who is he, anyways? Daniel asked after him too."

"Well, he's usually down here by now, this is his bench. Just an old fighter gone to the bottle. He's sort of an institution down here."

"How'd he lose his speech?"

"It's sort of like what happened to our Mexican friend here, only in reverse. They both started out talkin normal, 45 rpm, and then when they burnt out their fuses Cervantes pushed up to 78 while Stuffy dropped to gg. If you could listen slow enough and deep enough you might be able to make out words when he talks. Mostly people just give him a nickel and pass on by. Or hold on to the nickel and cross the street."

"Man is all w-wino and a yard wide. Three generations of k-kids've had Stuffy pointed out to them for a bad example. Don't know what the town would do without him."

"Maybe they'd start pointin at you, Miles."

"Shit. Wouldn't be surprised, things keep up the way they been."

The patrol car screeched away.

"Bye-bye, Cramer. You going to work today?"

"Maybe yes maybe no. Got a h-half-hour to think about it. What about you?"

"Didn't you hear? I been laid off. Got daylight to bum."

"Any idea when they'll call you back?"

"Maybe Daniel can predict it for us. He hit you with that brain-wave stuff, Oklahoma?"

"Yuh. Said somebody was calling him from the dead."

Pete giggled. "He's probably picking up radio stations on those metal choppers of his."

"Things give me the h-heebie-jeebies."

Daniel came back, wearing a white apron and a broad grin.

"What he do over there, give you a job washin dishes?"

"Nah. I didn't quite make it to the facilities. And Sam, he wouldn't hold still for a hamburger, but I got him to give me this apron. Pissed all over my front." Daniel frowned. "And it's all your fault, Cervantes, you hadn't got that beer last night. It's the beer makes you piss."

"Ohyes Donnydonny ohyes m'hmn. Beers."

"Cramer went, huh?"

"He got tired of waiting for you to flash your ID there, Dan'l. Took off up the hill in a big hurry. Maybe he got an emergency call."

"Good riddance. I get bad brain waves from that cop."

"You still on that kick?"

"Pete, if you could concentrate — " Daniel closed his eyes and held his head with his fingertips "I could put you in a deep trance."

"You hand him that b-bottle he can put himself in a deep trance."

Daniel's head slumped into his hands. "Six thousand comedians out of work."

"Just kiddin, Dan'l, there's sumn to it I bet. Weirdest thing ever happened to me was when I called up Roy Elrod and the phone didn't even ring, just old R-Roy started talking to me. Gimme the creeps."

Mr. Miles's shakes had calmed a bit but his eyes were still blinking like crazy.

"Will you look at that." Daniel stared at something between his feet. "Ant carryin a big boulder like that."

They all looked. Brian could just barely see a crumb of his cinnamon doughnut inching toward Cervantes.

"Ant can lift seven hundred pounds his weight."

"Seven hunnert times, you mean."

"S'what I said. A man was as strong as an ant he could lift that pier."

"You used to be a muscleman, Dan'l, what could you lift? Two hunnert, three hunnert pound?"

"Don't remind me. Move your foot, Cervantes, let'm go straight through. Jesus, don't step on him, he's got enough troubles."

"Dan'l, I hate to say this, but I don't see no ant."

Pete winked down to Brian. "I think you're out in the whatchamacallit," he said. "Fifth dimension."

"Fourth dimension. And this aint no DT. DT's I get cockaroaches, not ants."

Daniel paled suddenly, he covered his eyes with his palms. "Jesus Christ, I'm a dead duck."

"You know Misser Horse? He own tot big buildin in the moanton, he berry big mon, I lob to work por him, lob him berry much."

"Cervantes, Hearst has been dead what — twenty years now? It don't really matter to him that you peddled newspapers once."

"Ohyes, noosepaper, berry big m'hmn m'hmn."

"A dead duck," said Daniel. "Aint gone near pussy in a year. A whole year."

"Maybe it's like me," said Pete. "I aint quit drinkin, I just laid off for a while."

"Nope. It's done with."

"Say Dan'! whatever happened to the one they called Fat Lou? Haven't seen him round for ages."

"He's dead. They're all dead."

"I member that guy," said Pete. They were trying to change the subject, to get Daniel's mind off himself. "I member one night seeing him and Sparky, you know, the one with the neck brace, him and Sparky right here on these stairs goin down to the beach. Somehow they scraped enough together for a whole gallon of wine. Goin down these very steps, Sparky was holding it, when the bag tore and smash that gallon to smithereens. Whole gallon, didn't get a drop before it's broke. I seen Fat Lou just sit down and blubber like a baby."

"Never hold your wine by the bag, you got to keep your h-hand under it."

"No shit."

A man and a woman dressed in matching denim suits strolled self-consciously behind the bench. They turned to go down to the beach.

"Ought to put a sign up," muttered Pete. "No Trespassing — Winos Only."

"Aaaaaaaaaaugh!" Daniel clapped his hands over his ears and squeezed his eyes shut.

"What is it, Dan'l?"

"The gurgling," he said. "The voice. It won't stop."

Miles handed him the Thunderbird. "Relief is just a swallow away."

Daniel drank deeply, then threw his head back and stared up at the gulls.

"Yeah, I remember somethin like that happened to this b-buddy of mine." Miles exchanged a concerned look with Sneaky Pete. "Way back when. Vodka days, none a this wine shit, and my buddy had just turned twenty-one. Only liquor store in town was the old gray-bearded J-Jew, who even if you was toothless and wrinkled wanted to see ID. So my buddy goes in there and gets a fifth, slaps his card on the table and orders up like a man, and what does he d-do for his twentyfirst birthday but drop it the minute he hits the sidewalk. His first legal bottle spread out on the pavement. He was strange in the head, this buddy, and he takes it for a sign from the Lord. N-never touched another drop."

"Hell of a note. And I thought my brother was crazy with his oranges."