Joe fell, and immediately tried to get up again.
Daryl grabbed him by the shirt and shoved him down. 'You little shit! What's wrong with you ? '
The cigarette kid was holding his side like he had a stitch. 'Let's get out of here, man. I don't wanna do this no more.'
Joe said, 'Gonna beat you.' His lips were split and it was hard to speak.
'It's over!'
Joe tried to hit Daryl from the ground, but the punch missed by a good foot.
'It's over, goddamnit. You 're beat!'
Joe tried to hit Daryl again, but this time he missed by a yard.
'Notover. . . untillwin.'
Daryl stepped back then, his face a raw mask of rage. 'Okay, you dumb shit. I warned you.'
Daryl reared back, kicked Joe as hard as he could, and Joe felt the world explode between his legs. Then there were stars and blackness.
Joe heard them leaving, or thought he did. It seemed like hours before he could move, and when he finally worked his way to his knees, the woods were still. His groin ached, and he
198 ROBERT CRAIS
felt nauseous. He touched his face. His hand came away red. His tee shirt was splattered with drying blood. More blood streaked his arms.
It was several minutes before he smelled the turpentine again, and then he saw the one-earred cat, staring at him from beneath the rotten branches of a fallen tree.
Joe Pike said, 'Hey, cat.'
The cat vanished.
'That's okay, girl. You 're okay.'
He thought she was probably scared.
He wondered why he wasn 't.
After a while he went home.
Three days later Daryl Haines scowled at the envelope and said, 'Fuck this shit.'
It was five minutes before 8 P.M. at the Shell station. Daryl was sitting on the hard chair he kept out front by the Coke machine, leaning back the way he did, snug in his down jacket, but pissed off about the letter. It was a notice from the goddamned Army to report for his induction physical.
Daryl Haines, eighteen years old and without the luxury of a college deferment, was 1-A infantry material. He had to take the bus down to the city this Saturday just to have his ass poked and prodded by some faggot Army doctor so they could ship him over to Vietnam.
Daryl said, 'This sucks.'
Maybe he should join the Air Force.
Daryl's older brother, Todd, was already over there. He had a cushy job working on trucks at an air base near Saigon and said it wasn't so bad. You got to screw around a lot, smoke all the pot you wanted, and fuck good-lookin' gook women for twenty-five cents a throw. His brother made it sound like goddamned Disneyland, but Daryl figured with his rotten luck he 'dprobably have to carry a gun and get shot. 'Fuck.'
At eight o 'clock, Daryl shut the lights, turned off the pumps, locked the station, and headed down the street, wishing he could stop in a bar. Eighteen years old being old enough to kill
L.A. REQUIEM
199
gooks, but not old enough to down a beer when you were thinking about it.
Daryl was thinking that he could drown his sorrow between Candy Crowley s legs if the fat psycho bitch would ever come across. He was almost there last Sunday, when the nutty bitch got it in her head to burn a cat. You just had to shake your head sometimes, where she came up with stuff like that. But it seemed to get her righteously damp, and Daryl thought he 'dfinally get the old ball between the uprights, as it were, when that weird kid spoiled the deal. Anotherfuckin 'nut. That kid had taken the best beating that Daryl Haines ever dished out, andhejustwouldn 'tquit. Didn 'tcry, either, not even after Daryl scrambled his eggs for him. You 'd think the goddamned cat belonged to the kid, the way he carried on, but Daryl had stolen it from Old Lady Wilbur, his next- door neighbor.
You just had to shake your head.
Daryl was still thinking about it when this voice said, 'Daryl.'
Daryl said, 'Yeah?'
The kid stepped out from behind this big azalea bush, his face swollen and lumpy with bruises. A big piece of tape covered his nose, and black stitches laced his lip and left eyebrow like railroad tracks.
Daryl, feeling righteously cranky because he 'd been drafted, said, 'You want some more, you little fuck, you picked the right time. I'mgoin 'to Vietnam.'
But that didn 't impress the kid, who suddenly had a Louisville Slugger baseball bat in his hands and hit Daryl on the outside of the left knee as if he was swinging away for the green wall at Fenway Park.
Daryl Haines screamed as he fell. It felt as if someone had sewn an M80 in his knee and touched the sucker off. Daryl clutched at his knee, still howling as the kid brought the bat down again. Daryl saw it coming and raised his hands, and then a second M80 went off in his right arm. Daryl screamed, 'Jesus Christ! Stop it! Stop! Don't hit me again!'
The kid tossed the bat aside and stared at him. The kid's
200 ROBERT CRAIS
face was empty, and that scared Daryl even more than all the gooks in Vietnam.
The kid kicked Daryl in the side of the head, kicked him again, then leaned over and punched Daryl three fast times in the face. Daryl's sky filled with a million little sparkly stars against a black field, and then Daryl puked.
'Daryl?'
'Uhn...'
'It snot over until I win.'
Daryl spit blood. 'You win. Jesus Christ, you win. I give up.'
The kid stepped back.
Daryl was crying so bad he felt like a baby. The kid had broken his leg and arm. Jesus, it hurt.
'Daryl'
'Please, Christ, don't hit me again.' Scared the kid was gonna bash him some more.
'How could you want to hurt something so weak? '
'Jesus. Oh, Christ.'
'You ever do that, Daryl, I'll find you and kill you. That cat would kill you if it could, but it can't. I'll kill you for it.'
