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minor wounds and were taken for treatment to the city
hospital。 The dead were Jimmy Macy and Lancy Davis。 The
wounded were John Hamlin； white； of Central Mill City；
Various Wilson； Negro； and so forth and so on。 Quote： 〃A
number of arrests were made。 It is alleged that the disturbance
was caused by labor agitation； as papers of a subversive nature
were found on and about the site of disturbance。 Other arrests
are expected shortly。〃' Brannon clicked his teeth together。 'The
set…up of this paper gets worse every day。 Subversive spelled
with a u in the second syllable and arrests with only one r。'
〃They're smart； all right；' Jake said sneeringly。 * 〃Caused by
labor agitation。〃 That's remarkable。
'
'Anyway； the whole thing is very unfortunate。
'
Jake held his hand to his mouth and looked down at his empty
plate。
'What do you mean to do now？
*
Tm leaving。 I'm getting out of here this afternoon。
'
Brannon polished his nails on the palm of his hand。 〃Well； of
course it's not necessary—but it might be a good thing。 Why
so headlong？ No sense in starting out this time of day。
'
'I just father。
'
'I do not think it behooves you to make a new start。 At v the
same time why don't you take my advice on this？ Myself—I'm
a conservative and of course I think your opinions are radical。
But at the same time I like to know all sides of a matter。
Anyway； I want to see you straighten out。 So why don't you go
some place where you can meet a few people more or less like
yourself？ And then settle down？
'
Jake pushed his plate irritably away from him。 'I don't know
where I'm going。 Leave me'alone。 I'm tired。
'
Brannon shrugged his shoulders and went back to the counter。
297
He was tired enough。 The hot rum and the heavy sound of the
rain made him drowsy。 It felt good to be sitting safe in a booth
and to have just eaten a good meal。 If he wanted to he could
lean over and take a nap—a short one。 Already his head felt
swollen and heavy and he was more comfortable with his eyes
closed。 But it would have to be a short sleep because soon he
must get out of here。
'How long will this rain keep on？'
Brannon's voice had drowsy overtones。 'You can't tell— a
tropical cloudburst。 Might clear up suddenly—or— might thin
a little and set in for the night。'
Jake laid his head down on his arms。 The sound of the rain
was nice the swelling sound of the sea。 He heard a clock tick
and the far…off rattle of dishes。 Gradually his hands relaxed。
They lay open； palm upward； on the table。
Then Brannon was shaking him by the shoulders and looking
into his face。 A terrible dream was in his mind。 'Wake up；'
Brannon was saying。 'You've had a nightmare。 I looked over
here and your mouth was open and you were groaning and
shuffling your feet on the floor。 I never saw anything to equal
it。'
The dream was still heavy in his mind。 He felt the old terror
that always came as he awakened。 He pushed Brannon away
and stood up。 'You don't have to tell me I had a nightmare。 I
remember just how it was。 And Fve had the same dream for
about fifteen times before。'
He did remember now。 Every other time he had been unable to
get the dream straight in his waking mind。 He had been
walking among a great crowd of people—like at the show。 But
there was also something Eastern about the people around
him。 There was a terrible bright sun and the people were half…
naked。 They were silent and slow and their faces had a look in
them of starvation。 There was no sound； only the sun； and the
silent crowd of people。 He walked among them and he carried
a huge covered basket。 He was taking the basket somewhere
but he could not find the place to leave it And in the dream
there was a peculiar horror in wandering on and on through
the crowd and not knowing where to lay down the burden he
had carried in his arms so long。
'What was it？' Brannon asked。 'Was the devil chasing you？'298
Jake stood up and went to the mirror behind the counter。 His
face was dirty and sweaty。 There were dark circles beneath his
eyes。 He wet his handkerchief under the fountain faucet and
wiped off his face。 Then he took out a pocket comb and neatly
combed his mustache。
'The dream was nothing。 You got to be asleep to understand
why it was such a nightmare。'
The clock pointed to five…thirty。 The rain had almost stopped。
Jake picked up his suitcase and went to the front door。 'So
long。 I'll send you a postcard maybe。'
'Wait；' Brannon said。 'You can't go now。 It's still raining a
little。'
'Just dripping off the awning。 I rather get out of town before
dark。'
'But hold on。 Do you have any money？ Enough to keep going
for a week？'
'I don't need money。 I been broke before。' Brannon had an
envelope ready and in it were two twenty…dollar bills。 Jake
looked at them on both sides and put them in his pocket。 'God
knows why you do it。 You'll never smell them again。 But
thanks。 I won't forget。' 'Good luck。 And let me hear from you。'
'Adios。1 'Good…bye。'
The door closed behind him。 When he looked back at the end
of the block； Brannon was watching from the sidewalk。 He
walked until he reached the railroad tracks。 On either side
there were rows of dilapidated two…room houses。 In the
cramped back yards were rotted privies and lines of torn；
smoky rags hung out to dry。 For two miles there was not one
sight of comfort or space or cleanliness。 Even the earth itself
seemed filthy and abandoned。 Now and then there were signs
that a vegetable row had been attempted； but only a few
withered collards had survived。 And a few fruitless； smutty fig
trees。 Little younguns swarmed in this filth； the smaller of
them stark naked。 The sight of this poverty was so cruel and
hopeless that Jake snarled and clenched his fists。
He reached the edge of town and turned off on a highway。
Cars passed him by。 His shoulders were too wide and his arms
too long。 He was so strong and ugly that no one wanted to take
him in。 But maybe a truck would stop
299
before long。 The late afternoon sun was out again。 Heat made
the steam rise from the wet pavement。 Jake walked steadily。
As soon as the town was behind a new surge of energy came
to him。 But was this flight or was it onslaught？ Anyway； he
was going。 All this to begin another time。 The road ahead lay
to the north and slightly to the west。 But he would not go too
far away。 He would not leave the South。 That was one clear
thing。 There was hope in him； and soon perhaps the outline of
his journey would take form。
Evening
W HAT good was it？ That was the question she would like to
know。 What the hell good was it。 All the plans she had made；
and the music。 When all that came of it was this trap—the
store； then home to sleep； and back at the store again。 The
clock in front of the place where Mister Singer used to work
pointed to seven。 And she was just getting off。 Whenever
there was overtime the manager always told her to stay。
Because she could stand longer on her feet and work harder
before giving out than any other girL
The heavy rain had left the sky a pale； quiet blue。 Dark was
coming。 Already the lights were turned on。 Automobile horns
honked in the street and the newsboys hollered out the
headlines in the papers。 She didn't want to go home。 If she
went home now she would lie down on the bed and bawl。 That
was how tired she was。 But if she went into the New York
Caf6 and ate some ice cream she might feel O。K。 And smoke
and be by herself a little while。
The front part of the caf6 was crowded； so she went to the
very last booth。 It was the small of her back and her face that
got so tired。 Their motto was supposed to be 'Keep on your
toes and smile。' Once she was out of the store she had to frown
a long time to get her face natural again。 Even her ears were
tired。 She took off the dangling green earrings and pinched the
lobes of her ears。 She had bought the earrings the week before
—and also a silver bangle bracelet。 At first she had worked in
Pots and Pans； but now they had changed her to Costume
Jewelry。
'Good evening； Mick；' Mister Brannon said。 He wiped300
the bottom of a glass of water with a napkin and set it on
the table。
'I want me a chocolate sundae and a nickel glass of draw
beer。'
'Together？' He put down a menu and pointed with Ms
little finger that wore a lady's gold ring。 'See—here's some
nice roast chicken or some veal stew。 Why don't you have
a little supper with me？'
'No； thanks。 All I want is the sundae and the beer。 Both
plenty cold。'
Mick raked her hair from her forehead。 Her mouth was
open so that her cheeks seemed hollow。 There were these
two things she could never believe。 That Mister Singer had
killed himself and was dead。 And that she was grown and
had to work at Woolworth's。
She was the one who found him。 They had thought the noise
was a backfire from a car； and it was not until the next day
that they knew。 She went in to play the radio。 The blood was
all over his neck and when her Dad came he pushed her out
of the room。 She had run into the dark and hit herself with her