Stanley Elkin - A Bad Man

“No sir, Mr. Freedman, I sure don’t. It’s nice to have the company.”

“Thank you. Personally, I too find that the company of honest men is welcome, but my friend Feldman here has things to think about, perhaps. I hope our chatter don’t disturb him. He’s not well, you know. I was his doctor, did you know that? Yes, indeed. I know his condition!”

“Is that so?” asked the deputy.

“Oh yes. He has a condition. A remarkable one.”

“Freedman—”

“Medical science is still in its infancy. As a doctor I admit it. It hasn’t even begun to understand the strange ways in which life works.”

“Freedman—” Feldman said again.

“You know, Deputy, seeing him attached to you like that is very striking, very unsettling.” He looked at Feldman. “You can imagine my surprise, Feldman, when I came into this car and I saw the bonds by which you are forged to the deputy here. Knowing your history—”

“What’s that, Dr. Freedman?” the deputy asked.

“Well, it’s very strange. Years ago, when we were on terms, I made an x-ray. There was a shadow — by his heart. A strange thing. At least four inches. Lying across his heart.”

“ Freedman —” Feldman said, straining forward.

“Now, now,” the deputy said. “You behave yourself. You’re in custody now. This isn’t any department store. As far as you’re concerned, this railroad train’s already your prison. That makes you a con. Now unless you want to find out right here what we can do to cons who don’t shape up, you better start acting like a con.”

“A homunculus,” Freedman said.

Feldman groaned and the deputy grabbed at the handcuff and jerked it sharply. “You be quiet,” he said.

“I didn’t know, of course, until I had had him x-rayed again. Oh, many times. I’m still not absolutely sure, but there, between the sternal ribs, and lying across his heart’s superior vena cava and aorta — a homunculus, perfectly shaped. About four inches. A fetus. There, of course, from prenatal times. He was probably meant to be a twin, but something happened. Some early Feldmanic aggrandizement, and the fetus froze there. It couldn’t have been four inches at birth. Something that large would have killed him. It must have been alive inside him — God knows how. But Feldman killed it off, didn’t you, Feldman?”

“Why didn’t you take it out?” the deputy asked.

“Well, I wanted to. He wouldn’t let me. It’s very dangerous even now. It’s probably petrified by this time. If his heart should enlarge, if he should have an attack, or perhaps even a heavy blow in the chest, the homunculus could penetrate the heart and kill him.”

The train moved out slowly and Feldman felt an exceptional urgency in his bowels.

“You ought to have that taken care of,” the deputy said. “You don’t let a thing like that go.”

Suddenly Feldman leaned forward. “How do you know?” he asked Freedman. “How do you know?”

“You saw the x-rays. You saw them,” Freedman said. “What do you think, I painted them myself?”

“It’s too strange,” Feldman said. “A fetus is curled. This is straight.”

“Why balk at that? Everything’s strange,” Freedman said. “You know, Deputy, the fact is, I thought at first it was an extra rib — something. But I’m certain now it’s what I said. There was a case in New York State — That’s why I was so surprised to see Feldman here attached to you like this.”

“Can you see the head and arms?”

“Indistinctly, Deputy, indistinctly,” Freedman said.

“It’s too much for me,” the deputy said. “Excuse me a minute, Doctor. Come along, Feldman.”

They went forward to the toilet, Feldman pulling the weighted suitcase behind him terribly. Once inside, he tried to lift it up onto the washstand. It must weigh a hundred pounds, he thought. The deputy watched him tugging at the case and smiled. Feldman felt something wrench in his arm, but at last he was able to swing the heavy case up onto the sink. It teetered dangerously and he moved against it to keep it from falling.

“Now, now,” the deputy said, “is that a way? You think the railroad wants you scratching its sinks? Anyway, how do you expect me to sit down and take my crap with you all the way over there?”

“Unlock me,” Feldman said.

“Well, I can’t do that,” the deputy said. “The custody code in this state says that any prisoner being transported to the penitentiary must be bound to his custodian at all times. Now you’ve rested enough. You get that suitcase down from there and you come over here.” With both hands he pulled on his harness, and Feldman stumbled and fell to his knees. The grip fell from the washstand against Feldman’s leg.

The deputy undid his trousers and let them fall to the floor. He pushed his drawers down. He sat on the toilet seat, and Feldman was pulled toward him at the level of the man’s stomach.

“What are you looking away for? Don’t you ever move yours? Don’t you look away from me like that. You think you’re better than I am? Don’t you look away, I said! ”

Feldman turned his head to the deputy. He started to gag.

“Maybe you’re uncomfortable,” the deputy said. “Maybe you’d be more comfortable if you could rest your head in my lap. You uncomfortable?”

“No.” Feldman said. “I’m comfortable.”

“Well, if you’re uncomfortable you just put your head down. And you better not be sick on me. You understand?” Feldman swayed dizzily against the deputy. “Hey,” the deputy said, “I think you like this. I think you think it ain’t so bad. A man gets used to everything. That’ll stand you in good stead where you’re going. That’ll be a point in your favor up there.” Feldman pulled away again.

“Well, I’m done, I guess,” the deputy said in a few moments. “How about you? Do you have to go?”

“No.”

“Don’t be embarrassed now.”

“No,” Feldman said, “I don’t have to.”

At Enden they had to change trains.

“So this is Enden,” Freedman said. “It isn’t much, but I’m glad I saw it. I’ve still got some time before I make my connection back to the city. I’ll walk along with you.”

“Dr. Freedman, it was nice to have your company,” the deputy said. “Say goodbye to him, Feldman. You won’t be seeing your friend for some time.”

“Maybe I’ll come out to visit,” Freedman said.

Freedman and the deputy shook hands.

“Oh, and listen,” Freedman said to the deputy, “don’t forget what I told you. A homunculus. Petrified. Over the heart. A heavy blow in the chest. Tell them. Tell the convicts .” He crossed the tracks and walked beside them toward their train. Three cars ahead a porter stood waiting for them. Near the vestibule where they were to board the train, Freedman moved suddenly in front of Feldman and the deputy. He went up on the little metal step and from there to the lower stair of the train and looked up into the vestibule.

“Ah,” he said, “Victman.” He held onto the railing and leaned backwards as Feldman and the deputy came up. “Look, Feldman,” he called, “it’s Victman.”

They had to change trains once more. In the foothills of the great dark mountain range which climbed like tiered chaos to the gray penitentiary. There Victman left them, and Dedman took his place.

In the night Feldman whispered to the deputy. “I have to go,” he said.

“Sure, Feldman, in a minute, when this game is finished.” Dedman and the deputy were playing cards.

“Please,” Feldman said, “now. I have to go.”

“You know the rules. I can’t unlock you. I asked before if you had to go. Have a little patience, please.”