Childhood of the Dead

by Jose Louzeiro

  They didn’t know where Carla had gone. Dito called Encravado, asked him to look for her.

  “Tell her it’s over for today.”

  “I’m gonna tell Sueli and Beth.”

  Dito entered the bar exhausted and somewhat disappointed. He was aware of his wrinkled pants and his dirty canvas shoes. His checkered jacket began to emit a foul odor. People close by stared on. The waiter had to be convinced to serve him some coffee, by asking him to pay at the cashier beforehand. Everyone was suspicious of him. People didn’t believe a street kid. He knew that’s what they thought of him. When he put sugar in his coffee and began to swirl it with the little coffee spoon, he noticed Pin walking by. He made two decisions then: to get better clothes and to find Crystal. Rolling johns could not go far. What happened to Zebra could happen to him.

  Pin came up and asked for another coffee, while Dito listened to what he had to say about Beth and her foreign pick up. Although her situation might be profitable, as Pin was saying, he, Dito, didn’t want to risk himself. She would be better off taking the man to a hotel.

  “The guy is full of money! He’s a gringo, speaking funny and everything.”

  Dito shook his head.

  “She has to go to another place.”

  They went by the Glo’ria Tavern, when Encravado showed up.

  “Sueli is at Paris Square. She says that nothing else happened. Before midnight she’ll go to Copacabana. She wants her part.”

  Dito got the money from his pocket and asked Pin to exchange it, saying:

  “It’s a good idea to make the division now!”

  “Three hundred and some for each one,” Pin said.

  “The change is because of that bastard who was gonna gyp Carla,” Dito explained.

  Beth remained seated with the gringo, the table still decorated with bottles. Dito looked at her with spite, feeling the badly healed cut over his eye burn. He would buy some new clothes to meet her, to sit down in a place like that one and talk about things.

  II

  Encravado and Pin decided to spend their money at Machado square’s stores, but Dito was too tired to go with them. “I’m gonna look for Smokey. See you tomorrow,” he said as they walked away.

  Glo’ria square at that hour was dark and deserted. Beggars sought accomodation on public benches. A woman with young children tried to find leftovers in a dumpster. Dito followed the action for awhile. As the woman pulled the trash out to the ground, the kids began to pick through it. All of it in silence, as if they were stealing. Dito called one of the boys, the woman stopped.

  “Go talk to the man.”

  Dito gave him a bill. It wouldn’t resolve anything but it would help a little bit. The boy went back to his mother, showed her the money, and she gathered her bags with rubbish and walked away, her children following behind.

  When Dito had already lain down on a bench, a drunkard showed up saying that place was his. He wanted to talk back but restrained himself. The guy barely knew what he was saying. He complained a while, a newspaper pack under his arm, and he left, limping, seeking another vacant bench.

  He gazed for hours at the moon appearing and disappearing behind the oiti-tree branches. He listened to the traffic noise and heard again Carla’s custumers’ outrage. Would he still be bound and gagged? What about Beth: what hotel would she have gone to with the gringo? Why did she look at him so sweetly? And why did he feel pain in the cut above his eye whenever he thought of her? He didn’t want to concentrate on her. He didn’t want to get mixed up with women. At least not until he was able to straighten things out with Crystal. After all, what kind of business was he in? Why did he send the merchandise to Deborah if she could resolve not pay what had been agreed? Was Deborah responsible for the deal or was it all planned by Crystal? More people were probably involved. Maybe that was it, and Crystal didn’t want to say it, so he wouldn’t appear so unimportant. And now, without Deborah what would Crystal think? Would he give him another chance?

  His wasn’t able to sleep. The folded newspapers he had placed under his head as a pillow weren’t sufficient. He planned to seek Crystal and go back to talk to Mother Dolores. He thought about her sad face, her distant eyes, remembered the brunette with black stockings, and visualized the other one who had called him and showed off her breasts. He thought of the grunting woman he had heard being fucked, in the room with a door ajar. All of that felt so strange, and yet he’d felt so much at home.

  He now realized he could easily pull the trigger on that jerk who killed Pichote in the cemetery, or on Crystal, in the same way he’d killed Deborah and Celina. They didn’t need to live anymore. Or did they? He didn’t know. He didn’t want to deal with such questions. Deborah had planned for him to disappear inside the police station and the prisoners would have made him a fag. He would have had no way of resisting. The day he rebelled he would be beaten to death, just as Dr. Mauro had wanted. But everything went wrong, Mauro’s girlfriend became a stiff, the blood basting her droopy breasts, her eyes stunned.

  These memories brought bursts of rage in Dito, and while he was enraged he wouldn’t be able to sleep. But he preferred it this way. He had no doubts about the future. Sooner or later they would hit him, but until then, only the most agile would prevail. Cock and pull the trigger first, before anyone else. Stick the knife with gusto, when least expected. He, Smokey, Encravado, Mother’s Scourge, all would have the same future. Each day another caught, just like Zebra, Pichote and now Manguito. If he ever got out of jail, he wouldn’t be good for anything. He knew how things were.

  The cut above his eye was burning and itching again. He had always heard that a cut was healing when it began to itch! That must be it. The idea of living in the cave had been pushed further and further back. Everything seemed very far away. Even his friends did not get along among themselves. Mother’s Scourge wishing to be independent and doing things he didn’t agree with. Encravado accepting his advice only to please. Pin was a mysterious guy: friendly with women and with some gloomy types he had seen one day at the market. And why did he want his friends to follow him? Follow him where? That was it — where to? The moon had plunged in a dark mass of clouds, the lights of the square went out. Lying down, Dito looked dead. Who knew about his existence? Was the Sao Paulo police still searching for him? Was the big man still furious with what he had done? Of course he was. They don’t forget. People like us don’t have the slightest chance. Both big and small mistakes have to be paid for. In the same currency. That’s why it would be best for him to become independent, to deal with his friends strictly as business. Perhaps Smokey would be the only exception. Did he like Encravado? Did he like Mother’s Scourge or Pin? No. His eyes filled with tears. The moon disappeared and he realized he was crying. That seldom happened. And he cried because he didn’t like anyone. Perhaps he liked Pichote a little and now Smokey. The others he barely remembered, or remembered with hatred. Like Zé Ina’cio, Armadillo and Black Fly. Again the moon got lost in the dark mass of clouds and, with it, Dito plunged into sleep.

  III

  Smokey was jumping and climbing back on the street car’s step. They were going to Mangue, where they would talk again with Mother Dolores. Dito had curled up at the end of a seat without energy for anything. Since morning he almost hadn’t talked. Not even when they had breakfast and the black boy wished to know about his previous night’s adventures.

  “Wow! Did you hit the guy?” Smokey asked, later.

  Dito smiled, “It was only a scratch. He wanted to be a wise guy.”

  They came to the wide street, busy, with large billboards. The men were again standing around, and there were tents set up by fruit vendors. At almost all windows naked women showed themselves off. A man shouted for Smokey to get out of there. The boy ran away fast, but returned later. They went in Mother Dolores big house. The women seated on the steps were not the same; Dito didn’t see either the brunette with black stockings, or the large-breasted one. Mother Dolores was talking to some
weird guys, and she asked them to wait. Later, when they came in, she started saying that life for Manguito was now very hard.

  “The worst has already happened. He was sent back to SAM.”

  Dito knew that could not be so bad, if compared to living in a jail in the police station. Naturally she couldn’t imagine what that might be. His spirits were lifted a bit and he even asked, “But are you sure?”

  “That’s what the detective who was here yesterday told me. Now you only need to get confirmation.”

  Dito was relieved, though he could not have it confirmed. How could he go to SAM and ask about Manguito? Mother Dolores had notions he could never understand.

  When the woman offered food, Smokey thought it was a little early to eat, he wasn’t hungry.

  “One of these days we’ll come back,” Smokey said.

  Dito only smiled and left. The woman stared at them as if lamenting. They mingled among the men and returned to the street where streetcars passed. They took the first one that showed up.

  “Where are we going, man?”

  “Anywhere. When we get tired, we come back. I’m going to Rocinha to look for Crystal in the afternoon, if you wanna come you have to be strong. He’ll probably turn on us.”

  “I’ll kill his ass,” Smokey threatened.

  At Sans Pen~a square they got out. Dito went into a store, and stared at the windows, fascinated with the large quantity of toys, roller skates, bicycles.

  “What if we bought a bicycle?”

  “Cool, man! But some guy would immediately show up to steal it,” Smokey said.

  Dito knew it was true. They left the store, ran to the other side of the square. Dito jumped over the flowering bushes, while Smokey asked the gardener to let him drink some water from the hose, but the man sent him away. The little black boy went back to walking, always jumping and laughing. They went into a bar where Dito asked for coffee and a guarana’ soda.

  IV

  It was a sunny afternoon. The roads to Rocinha were very steep. By the time they arrived at the community fountain they had passed by the place where men played the numbers; had gone in narrow alleys between shacks; seen small exposed-brick houses with television antennas and observed groups of children playing ball. Smokey looked inside the first store, but Dito was almost sure Crystal would be in the other one, the larger one, with two front doors, which had been painted in blue. Some men had gathered close by, while others passed carrying water. As Dito and Smokey went in the store they saw him. Crystal saw Dito but acted as if he hadn’t. A tall and thin black man played pool against him. Dito stayed in a corner. Crystal rubbed chalk on his stick. When he positioned himself to play, he smiled. Dito also tried to smile.

  “You’ve finally shown up! We need to talk. Are you in a hurry?” Crystal asked.

  Dito shoook his head and sunk his hands in his pockets. On the third stroke Crystal missed his shot, and the black man began to sink the balls. The two boys looked for a table and sat down. Crystal asked the barman to serve them softdrinks.

  “Take good care of them, they are my friends!”

  Dito drank ­guarana’ while observing Crystal’s elegant clothes. He hadn’t change a bit. The light colored pants, white shoes, white shirt with the sleeves turned up, hair well combed as if just out of the shower. He didn’t know how Crystal was able to look like that all day long. A good hour later the tall black man left his cuestick on the table.

  “That’s enough for today. It’s your bill!”

  He bellied up to the counter and asked the barman to serve him a mixed drink. Crystal asked for a cognac and then came to Dito and Smokey’s table.

  “Today, I’m not having a good day,” he said referring to the game he had just lost.

  He drank some, smacked his lips, and continued to sip his drink.

  “How did it happen?”

  Dito didn’t know whether to answer.

  “What?”

  “With poor Deborah.”

  “Poor, my ass. Look at what I got.”

  He shows the cut above his eye.

  “And if I didn’t take care, I would have rotted in jail.”

  “She didn’t pay what I told you?”

  “She didn’t pay shit. What she did was to put the police on us. He and I went to the police station, and later on we went to jail with a bunch of criminals.”

  “You just needed to come and see me and we would have closed accounts. You didn’t need to do away with the woman. She was important. A bunch of people are after you now. Mostly after you.”

  Dito shrugged his shoulders, as if it were not important.

  “How much did she have to pay you?” Crystal asked, unexpectedly.”

  “Three thousand.”

  “Here it is.”

  Dito and Smokey couldn’t believe what they were seeing. Crystal opened his wallet, chose the bills and began to place them on the table. At first Dito didn’t have the courage to pick them up.

  “Come on, it’s yours!” Crystal insisted.

  Dito grabbed the money. Thrown off by this, he couldn’t understand why this guy was always able to manipulate him.

  “And where is your other little friend?”

  “Canned,” Smokey answered.

  “We’ve been told he is in SAM.”

  Crystal frowned.

  “He’s up the creek.”

  “Without him we can’t do nothing. He helped a lot!” Dito said.

  Now Crystal was the one surprised. But he didn’t show his displeasure.

  “You think he will be there for a long time?”

  “I’ve got no idea.”

  “Do you know which building he’s in?” Crystal asked interested.

  “It is easier to identify him by name....”

  “Manguito...,” Crystal repeated. “I’m gonna move mountains to get that boy released. See? Just by talking we get things done.”

  Dito understood him to be referring to Deborah again, her boyfriend and Celina.

  “She fingered us, so that we wouldn’t come out of prison alive,” Dito said.

  “Let’s forget that,” Crystal concluded, leaving the boy even more annoyed.

  “And what’s gonna happen now?”

  “Sometime I’m still gonna need you again. By then Manguito will be free. During that time we’ll talk, get things straight. The only thing is, you can’t show up in Sao Paulo any time soon. And it’s there that the greatest volume of business is done.”

  “Why didn’t Deborah do what you told her to do?” Dito insisted.

  “I can’t imagine. Maybe she didn’t have any money at the time.”

  “That was not it,” Smokey argued; “she left us waiting and said she would get the dough. Then the big man showed up and caught us.”

  “I think it was all planned,” Dito stated.

  “Well if she was trying to go behind my back, well, she paid for that. Let’s talk about less sad things.”

  Crystal lit up a cigarette, the barman brought another shot of cognac, and offered the boys soft drinks.

  “The next gig will probably be in Belo Horizonte. A few hours of travel and you will be there. It’s a good market. I might even find an authorization for you to travel by bus. Then you won’t have to run after trains. There’s no sense in risking your lives, man.”

  “Bus would be great,” Smokey says.

  “And you can get more cash. It will only depend on you.”

  Some strange men showed up and talked to Crystal, one of them hugged him. The boys stood up, understanding it was time to go. Dito was pleased with the stack of money he had just received and Smokey was also as happy. Now he wanted to disappear from there as soon as possible, take the direct route to the square and to the stones in Aterro, and to stay there thinking of how to spend so much money.

  Smokey believed Crystal was not such a bad guy, “Another one,” he said, “wouldn’t have given us any fucking money!”

  Dito didn’t agree. He only knew he couldn’t unders
tand Crystal. The more he tried the less he understood.

  They passed the men again who waited for the results of the numbers’ game and the public fountain now surrounded by women and children. They got to the concrete road, when they noticed a car coming down slowly. Dito and Smokey got closer to the stressed concrete wall. The car’s door opened up; Dito wanted to run but couldn’t. Two men grabbed him, a third one grabbed Smokey.

  “Come here, you son-of-a-bitch! We want to hear your story!”

  The guy saying this was strong, had his shirt out of his pants and wore a fedora. The other one was white and fat. The one who grabbed Smokey, a tall black, had a cap on.

  The car went down the hill. Dito didn’t feel like fighting them off, or try to escape. He knew that was impossible and that he was stupid to believe in Crystal. The black man with a cap extended his arm to the back seat.

  “Give me the man’s money, tough guy.

  Dito did not move. The big man holding him put his hands in Dito’s pockets.

  “Three thousand, brother! Not bad!” The policeman said, passing the bills to his friend.

  The fat white man mocked: “Where you’re going you won’t need this.”

  Dito looked at Smokey, he was pale and scared. He suspected Crystal, but had not imagined that he could have done so much. His eyes were filled with tears, and the cut above his eye began to hurt. The policemen spoke among themselves. He knew the comments were about him. Now, even the driver, a little man, wanted to know the details. The white man, jokingly, explained what they had done Sao Paulo.

  “They did in three of them, brother. Without a moment’s thought.”

  Dito remembered the face of the Sao Paulo delegate, of Caramel and Big Purple. If he were sent there again, he was sure that would be his end. Crystal would be free, playing pool in the afternoons, without worrying whether he won or lost. Actually that was his other profession, only now did Dito understand it clearly.

  V

  The stolen Ford rode around and stopped often, but there were always two policemen to take care of the prisoners. There was no way they could escape. Later on, they began to go up a road that appeared to go up to Corcovado. The white policeman asked the driver to stop. The car stepped on the grassy shoulder.