38421.fb2 Invisible man - читать онлайн бесплатно полную версию книги . Страница 15

Invisible man - читать онлайн бесплатно полную версию книги . Страница 15

            "Okay, okay, take it easy," Halley said, rushing to pour them drinks. "Just put y'all's money where your mouth is."

            With Supercargo lying helpless upon the bar, the men whirled about like maniacs. The excitement seemed to have tilted some of the more delicately balanced ones too far. Some made hostile speeches at the top of their voices against the hospital, the state and the universe. The one who called himself a composer was banging away the one wild piece he seemed to know on the out-of-tune piano, striking the keyboard with fists and elbows and filling in other effects in a bass voice that moaned like a bear in agony. One of the most educated ones touched my arm. He was a former chemist who was never seen without his shining Phi Beta Kappa key.

            "The men have lost control," he said through the uproar. "I think you'd better leave."

            "I'm trying to," I said, "as soon as I can get over to Mr. Norton."

            Mr. Norton was gone from where I had left him. I rushed here and there through the noisy men, calling his name.

            When I found him he was under the stairs. Somehow he had been pushed there by the scuffling, reeling men and he lay sprawled in the chair like an aged doll. In the dim light his features were sharp and white and his closed eyes well-defined lines in a well-tooled face. I shouted his name above the roar of the men, and got no answer. He was out again. I shook him, gently, then roughly, but still no flicker of his wrinkled lids. Then some of the milling men pushed me up against him and suddenly a mass of whiteness was looming two inches from my eyes; it was only his face but I felt a shudder of nameless horror. I had never been so close to a white person before. In a panic I struggled to get away. With his eyes closed he seemed more threatening than with them open. He was like a formless white death, suddenly appeared before me, a death which had been there all the time and which had now revealed itself in the madness of the Golden Day.

            "Stop screaming!" a voice commanded, and I felt myself pulled away. It was the short fat man.

            I clamped my mouth shut, aware for the first time that the shrill sound was coming from my own throat. I saw the man's face relax as he gave me a wry smile.

            "That's better," he shouted into my ear. "He's only a man. Remember that. He's only a man!"

            I wanted to tell him that Mr. Norton was much more than that, that he was a rich white man and in my charge; but the very idea that I was responsible for him was too much for me to put into words.

            "Let us take him to the balcony," the man said, pushing me toward Mr. Norton's feet. I moved automatically, grasping the thin ankles as he raised the white man by the armpits and backed from beneath the stairs. Mr. Norton's head lolled upon his chest as though he were drunk or dead.

            The vet started up the steps still smiling, climbing backwards a step at a time. I had begun to worry about him, whether he was drunk like the rest, when I saw three of the girls who had been leaning over the balustrade watching the brawl come down to help us carry Mr. Norton up.

            "Looks like pops couldn't take it," one of them shouted.

            "He's high as a Georgia pine."

            "Yeah, I tell you this stuff Halley got out here is too strong for white folks to drink."

            "Not drunk, ill!" the fat man said. "Go find a bed that's not being used so he can stretch out awhile."

            "Sho, daddy. Is there any other little favors I can do for you?"

            "That'll be enough," he said.

            One of the girls ran up ahead. "Mine's just been changed. Bring him down here," she said.

            In a few minutes Mr. Norton was lying upon a three-quarter bed, faintly breathing. I watched the fat man bend over him very professionally and feel for his pulse.

            "You a doctor?" a girl asked.

            "Not now, I'm a patient. But I have a certain knowledge."

            Another one, I thought, pushing him quickly aside. "He'll be all right. Let him come to so I can get him out of here."

            "You needn't worry, I'm not like those down there, young fellow," he said. "I really was a doctor. I won't hurt him. He's had a mild shock of some kind."

            We watched him bend over Mr. Norton again, feeling his pulse, pulling back his eyelid.

            "It's a mild shock," he repeated.

            "This here Golden Day is enough to shock anybody," a girl said, smoothing her apron over the smooth sensuous roll of her stomach.

            Another brushed Mr. Norton's white hair away from his forehead and stroked it, smiling vacantly. "He's kinda cute," she said. "Just like a little white baby."

            "What kinda ole baby?" the small skinny girl asked.

            "That's the kind, an ole baby."

            "You just like white men, Edna. That's all," the skinny one said.

            Edna shook her head and smiled as though amused at herself. "I sho do. I just love 'em. Now this one, old as he is, he could put his shoes under my bed any night."

            "Shucks, me I'd kill an old man like that."

            "Kill him nothing," Edna said. "Girl, don't you know that all these rich ole white men got monkey glands and billy goat balls? These ole bastards don't never git enough. They want to have the whole world."

            The doctor looked at me and smiled. "See, now you're learning all about endocrinology," he said. "I was wrong when I told you that he was only a man; it seems now that he's either part goat or part ape. Maybe he's both."

            "It's the truth," Edna said. "I used to have me one in Chicago --"

            "Now you ain't never been to no Chicago, gal," the other one interrupted.

            "How you know I ain't? Two years ago . . . Shucks, you don't know nothing. That ole white man right there might have him a coupla jackass balls!"

            The fat man raised up with a quick grin. "As a scientist and a physician I'm forced to discount that," he said. "That is one operation that has yet to be performed." Then he managed to get the girls out of the room.

            "If he should come around and hear that conversation," the vet said, "it would be enough to send him off again. Besides, their scientific curiosity might lead them to investigate whether he really does have a monkey gland. And that, I'm afraid, would be a bit obscene."

            "I've got to get him back to the school," I said.

            "All right," he said, "I'll do what I can to help you. Go see if you can find some ice. And don't worry."

            I went out on the balcony, seeing the tops of their heads. They were still milling around, the juke box baying, the piano thumping, and over at the end of the room, drenched with beer, Supercargo lay like a spent horse upon the bar.

            Starting down, I noticed a large piece of ice glinting in the remains of an abandoned drink and seized its coldness in my hot hand and hurried back to the room.

            The vet sat staring at Mr. Norton, who now breathed with a slightly irregular sound.

            "You were quick," the man said, as he stood and reached for the ice. "Swift with the speed of anxiety," he added, as if to himself. "Hand me that clean towel -- there, from beside the basin."

            I handed him one, seeing him fold the ice inside it and apply it to Mr. Norton's face.

            "Is he all right?" I said.

            "He will be in a few minutes. What happened to him?"

            "I took him for a drive," I said.