sk.runningman-第5部分

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n　status　in　the　Games　out　of　any　suicidal　motivation？〃
　　〃No。〃
　　〃What　is　your　reason？〃
　　〃My　little　girl's　sick。　She　needs　a　doctor。　Medicine。　Hospital　care。〃
　　The　ballpoint　scratched。　〃Anything　else？〃
　　Richards　was　on　the　verge　of　saying　no　（it　was　none　of　their　business）　and　then　decided　he　would　give　it　all。　Perhaps　because　the　doctor　looked　like　that　nearly　forgotten　dirty　boy　of　his　youth。　Maybe　only　because　it　needed　to　be　said　once；　to　make　it　coalesce　and　take　concrete　shape；　as　things　do　when　a　man　forces　himself　to　translate　unformed　emotional　reactions　into　spoken　words。
　　〃I　haven't　had　work　for　a　long　time。　I　want　to　work　again；　even　if　it's　only　being　the　sucker…man　in　a　loaded　game。　I　want　to　work　and　support　my　family。　I　have　pride。　Do　you　have　pride；　Doctor？〃
　　〃It　goes　before　a　fall；〃　the　doctor　said。　He　clicked　the　tip　of　his　ballpoint　in。　〃If　you　have　nothing　to　add；　Mr。　Richards…〃　He　stood　up。　That；　and　the　switch　back　to　his　surname；　suggested　that　the　interview　was　over　whether　Richards　had　any　more　to　say　or　not。
　　〃No。〃
　　〃The　door　is　down　the　hall　to　your　right。　Good　luck。
　　〃Sure；〃　Richards　said。
　　
　　Minus　090　and　COUNTING
　　The　group　Richards　had　e　in　with　was　now　reduced　to　four。　The　new　waiting　room　was　much　smaller；　and　the　whole　group　had　been　reduced　roughly　by　the　same　figure　of　sixty　percent。　The　last　of　the　Y's　and　Z's　straggled　in　at　four…thirty。　At　four；　an　orderly　had　circulated　with　a　tray　of　tasteless　sandwiches。　Richards　got　two　of　them　and　sat　munching；　listening　to　a　pal　named　Rettenmund　as　he　regaled　Richards　and　a　few　others　with　a　seemingly　inexhaustible　fund　of　dirty　stories。
　　When　the　whole　group　was　together；　they　were　shunted　into　an　elevator　and　lifted　to　the　fifth　floor。　Their　quarters　were　made　up　of　a　large　mon　room；　a　munal　lavatory；　and　the　inevitable　sleep…factory　with　its　rows　of　cots。　They　were　informed　that　a　cafeteria　down　the　hall　would　serve　a　hot　meal　at　seven　o'clock。
　　Richards　sat　still　for　a　few　minutes；　then　got　up　and　walked　over　to　the　cop　stationed　by　the　door　they　had　e　in　through。　〃Is　there　a　telephone；　pal？〃　He　didn't　expect　they　would　be　allowed　to　phone　out；　but　the　cop　merely　jerked　his　thumb　toward　the　hall。
　　Richards　pushed　the　door　open　a　crack　and　peered　out。　Sure　enough；　there　it　was。　Pay　phone。
　　He　looked　at　the　cop　again。　〃Listen；　if　you　loan　me　fifty　cents　for　the　phone；　I'll
　　〃Screw　off；　Jack。〃
　　Richards　held　his　temper。　〃I　want　to　call　my　wife。　Our　kid　is　sick。　Put　yourself　in　my　place；　for　Christ's　sake。〃
　　The　cop　laughed：　a　short；　chopping；　ugly　sound。　〃You　types　are　all　the　same。　A　story　for　every　day　of　the　year。　Technicolor　and　3…D　on　Christmas　and　Mother's　Day。〃
　　〃You　bastard；〃　Richards　said；　and　something　in　his　eyes；　the　stance　of　his　shoulders　suddenly　made　the　cop　shift　his　gaze　to　the　wall。　〃Aren't　you　married　yourself？　Didn't　you　ever　find　yourself　strapped　and　have　to　borrow；　even　if　it　tasted　like　shit　in　your　mouth？〃
　　The　cop　suddenly　jammed　a　hand　into　his　jumper　pocket　and　came　up　with　a　fistful　of　plastic　coins。　He　thrust　two　New　Quarters　at　Richards；　stuffed　the　rest　of　the　money　back　in　his　pocket；　and　grabbed　a　handful　of　Richards's　tunic。　〃If　you　send　anybody　else　over　here　because　Charlie　Grady　is　a　soft　touch；　I'll　beat　your　sonofabitching　brains　out；　maggot。〃
　　〃Thank　you；〃　Richards　said　steadily。　〃For　the　loan。〃
　　Charlie　Grady　laughed　and　let　him　go。　Richards　went　out　into　the　hall；　picked　up　the　phone；　and　dropped　his　money　into　the　horn。　It　banged　hollowly　and　for　a　moment　nothing　happened…oh；　Jesus；　all　for　nothing…but　then　the　dial　tone　came。　He　punched　the　number　of　the　fifth　floor　hall　phone　slowly；　hoping　the　Jenner　bitch　down　the　hall　wouldn't　answer。　She'd　just　as　soon　yell　wrong　number　when　she　recognized　his　voice　and　he　would　lose　his　money。
　　It　rang　six　times；　and　then　an　unfamiliar　voice　said：　〃Hello？〃
　　〃I　want　to　talk　to　Sheila　Richards　in　SC。〃
　　〃I　think　she　went　out；〃　the　voice　said。　It　grew　insinuating。　〃She　walks　up　and　down　the　block；　you　know。　They　got　a　sick　kid。　The　man　there　is　shiftless。〃
　　〃Just　knock　on　the　door；〃　he　said；　cotton　mouthed。
　　〃Hold　on。〃
　　The　phone　on　the　other　end　crashed　against　the　wall　as　the　unfamiliar　voice　let　it　dangle。　Far　away；　dim；　as　if　in　a　dream；　he　heard　the　unfamiliar　voice　knocking　and　yelling：　〃Phone！　Phone　for　ya；　Missus　Richards！〃
　　Half　a　minute　later　the　unfamiliar　voice　was　back　on　the　line。　〃She　ain't　there。　I　can　hear　the　kid　yellin；　but　she　ain't　there。　Like　I　say；　she　keeps　an　eye　out　when　the　fleet's　in。〃　The　voice　giggled。
　　Richards　wished　he　could　teleport　himself　through　the　phone　line　and　pop　out　on　the　other　end；　like　an　evil　genie　from　a　black　bottle；　and　choke　the　unfamiliar　voice　until　his　eyeballs　popped　out　and　rolled　on　the　floor。
　　〃Take　a　message；〃　he　said。　〃Write　it　on　the　wall　if　you　have　to。〃
　　〃Ain't　got　no　pencil。　I'm　hangin　up。　G'bye。〃
　　〃Wait！〃　Richards　yelled；　panic　in　his　voice。
　　〃I'm　。　。　。　just　a　second。　〃　Grudgingly　the　voice　said；　〃She　in　up　the　stairs　now。〃
　　Richards　collapsed　sweatily　against　the　wall。　A　moment　later　Sheila's　voice　was　in　his　ear；　quizzical；　wary；　a　little　frightened：　〃Hello？〃
　　〃Sheila。〃　He　closed　his　eyes；　letting　the　wall　support　him。
　　〃Ben。　Ben；　is　that　you？　Are　you　all　right？〃
　　〃Yeah。　Fine。　Cathy。　Is　she…〃
　　〃The　same。　The　fever　isn't　so　bad　but　she　sounds　so　croupy。　Ben；　I　think　there's　water　in　her　lungs。　What　if　she　has　pneumonia？〃
　　〃It'll　be　all　right。　It'll　be　all　right。〃
　　〃I…〃　She　paused；　a　long　pause。　〃I　hate　to　leave　her；　but　I　had　to。　Ben；　I　turned　two　tricks　this　morning。　I'm　sorry。　But　I　got　her　some　medicine　at　the　drug。　Some　good　medicine。〃　Her　voice　had　taken　on　a　zealous；　evangelical　lilt。
　　〃That　stuff　is　shit；〃　he　said。　〃Listen：　No　more；　Sheila。　Please。　I　think　I'm　in　hems。　Really。　They　can't　cut　many　more　guys　because　there's　too　many　shows。　There's　got　to　be　enough　cannon　fodder　to　go　around。　And　they　give　advances；　I　think。　Mrs。　Upshaw…〃
　　〃She　looked　awful　in　black；〃　Sheila　broke　in　tonelessly。
　　〃Never　mind　that。　You　stay　with　Cathy；　Sheila。　No　more　tricks。〃
　　〃All　right。　I　won't　go　out　again。〃　But　he　didn't　believe　her　voice。　Fingers　crossed；　Sheila？　〃I　love　you；　Ben。〃
　　〃And　I　lo…〃
　　〃Three　minutes　are　up；〃　the　operator　broke　in。　〃If　you　wish　to　continue；　please　deposit　one　New　Quarter　or　three　old　quarters。〃
　　〃Wait　a　second！〃　Richards　yelled。　〃Get　off　the　goddam　line；　bitch。　You…'
　　The　empty　hum　of　a　broken　connection。
　　He　threw　the　receiver。　It　flew　the　length　of　its　silver　cord；　then　rebounded；　striking　the　wall　and　then　penduluming　slowly　back　and　forth　like　some　strange　snake　that　had　bitten　once　and　then　died。
　　Somebody　has　to　pay；　Richards　thought　numbly　as　he　walked　back。　Somebody　has　to。
　　
　　Minus　089　and　COUNTING
　　They　were　quartered　on　the　fifth　floor　until　ten　o'clock　the　following　day；　and　Richards　was　nearly　out　of　his　mind　with　anger；　worry；　and　frustration　when　a　young　and　slightly　faggoty…looking　pal　in　a　skintight　Games　uniform　asked　them　to　please　step　into　the　elevator。　They　were　perhaps　three　hundred　in　all：　over　sixty　of　their　number　had　been　removed　soundlessly　and　painlessly　the　night　before。　One　of　them　had　been　the　kid　with　the　inexhaustible　fund　of　dirty　jokes。
　　They　were　taken　to　a　small　auditorium　on　the　sixth　floor　in　groups　of　fifty。　The　auditorium　was　very　luxurious；　done　in　great　quantities　of　red　plush。　There　was　an　ashtray　built　into　the　realwood　arm　of　every　seat；　and　Richards　hauled　out　his　crumpled　pack　of　Blams。　He　tapped　his　ashes　on　the　floor。
　　There　was　a　small　stage　at　the　front；　and　in　the　center　of　that；　a　lectern。　A　pitcher　of　water　stood　on　it。
　　At　about　fifteen　minutes　past　ten；　the　faggoty…looking　fellow　walked　to　the　lectern　and　said：　〃I'd　like　you　to　meet　Arthur　M。　Burns；　Assistant　Director　of　Games。〃
　　〃Huzzah；〃　somebody　behind　Richards　said　in　a　sour　voice。
　　A　portly　man　with　a　tonsure　surrounded　by　gray　hair　strode　to　the　lectern；　pausing　and　cocking　his　head　as　he　arrived；　as　if　to　appreciate　a　round　of　applause　which　only　he　could　hear。　Then　he　smiled　at　them；　a　broad；　twinkling　smile　that　seemed　to　transform　him　into　a　pudgy；　aging　Cupid　in　a　business　suit。
　　〃Congratulations；〃　he　said。　〃You've　made　it。〃
　　There　was　a　huge　collective　sigh；　followed　by　some　laughter　and　back…slapping。　More　cigarettes　were　lit　up。
　　〃Huzzah；〃　the　sour　voice　repeated。
　　〃Shortly；　your　program　assignments　and　seventh　floor　room　numbers　will　be　passed　out。　The　executive　producers　of　your　particular　programs　will　explain　further　exactly　what　is　expected　of　you。　But　before　that　happens；　I　just　want　to　repeat　my　congratulations　and　tell　you　that　I　find　you　to　be　a　courageous；　resourceful　group；　refusing　to　live　on　the　public　dole　when　you　have　means　at　your　disposal　to　acquit　yourselves　as　men；　and；　may　I　add　personally；　as　true　heroes　of　our　time。
　　〃Bullshit；〃　the　sour　voice　remarked。
　　〃Furthermore；　I　speak　for　the　entire　Network　when　I　wish　you　good　luck　and　Godspeed。〃　Arthur　M。　Burns　chuckled　porkily　and　rubbed　his　hands　together。　〃Well；　I　know　you're　anxious　to　get　those　assignments；　so　I'll　spare　you　any　more　of　my　jabber。〃
　　A　side　door　popped　open；　and　a　dozen　Games　ushers　wearing　red　tunics　came　into　the　auditorium。　They　began　to　call　out　names。　White　envelopes　were　passed　out；　and　soon　they　littered　the　floor　like　confetti。　Plastic　assignment　cards　were　read；　exchanged　with　new　acquaintances。　There　were　muffled　groans；　cheers；　catcalls。　Arthur　M。　Burns　presided　over　it　all　from　his　podium；　smiling　benevolently。
　　…That　Christly　How　Hot　Can　You　Take　It；　Jesus　I　hate　the　heat
　　…the　show's　a　goddam　two…bitter；　es　on　right　after　the　flictoons；　for　God's　sake
　　…Treadmill　to　Bucks；　gosh；　I　didn't　know　my　heart　was
　　…I　was　hoping　I'd　get　it　but　I　didn't　really　think
　　…Hey　Jake；　you　ever　seen　this　Swim　the　Crocodiles？　I　thought
　　…nothing　like　I　expected
　　…I　don't　think　you　can
　　…Miserable　goddam
　　…This　Run　For　Your　Guns…
　　〃Benjamin　Richards！　Ben　Richards？〃
　　〃Here！〃
　　He　was　hand