Authors: György Dragomán
Meanwhile Jancsi got back with the water, and Csabi brought three big pieces of firewood. The corporal pulled a sooty stew pot out from under the trailer, poured around two quarts of water into it from the bucket, and splashed the rest on the ground, and then he turned the bucket upside-down, took a pocketknife from his pocket, pulled out its biggest blade, and jabbed the bottom of the bucket three times in a row. Next he filled the bucket with charcoal, set it right over the mouth of the pickle jar, and poured the blue disinfecting alcohol into the bucket up to the brim, and then little by little the filtered alcohol started dripping into the pickle jar underneath, it was black, like diluted liquid mud. The corporal wiped his hands, looked at us, kicked Mr. Vászile's old tin washtub our way, and said he'd ask us for one more favor, he wanted everyone to find themselves a rag and then to rub down the trailer on the outside a bit, not a whole lot, just enough so its original color would show, and in the meantime he'd set a fire under the grits and then we'd hold ourselves that funeral feast, a proper one at that.
The water in the quarry lake was gray and murky and its smell was pretty strange, I remembered what Zsolt had said about bones being at the bottom, so when I dipped in the washtub and it sucked in water really loud, I yanked it out almost right away, the water swirled around inside like a little eddy, but then I splashed it out on shore, and the second time I dipped the washtub more carefully, filled it up, and took it back up to the others. Csabi pressed a wrinkled necktie in my hand and I wet it, and then we all got down to rubbing the side of the trailer with crumpled rags, and Zsolt whispered over to me that we were lucky it wasn't the inside of the trailer we had to rub down, and I whispered back that I was worried that that would be next, because if it was up to those lousy dogs, we'd be here till night, but Jancsi whispered that then we could at least find the gold, and I said I thought I knew where it was, and I told the others what I found while cleaning, and Csabi said it was now for sure the gold had to be there in the quarry wall under the prehistoric reliefs, we just needed to get there somehow, yes, as long as we had to work our tails off like this, we should at least get something out of it. But Zsolt didn't say anything to that, he just threw his rag into the washtub, sighed, took out the rag, rung it out, and went on rubbing the side of the trailer.
The whole time we worked, the corporal stayed right there in that picnic chair and paged through the thick history book, but all of a sudden he stood up, flung the book to the ground, splashed a good quart of the disinfecting alcohol onto it from the decanter, and threw a lit match on top. The alcohol burst into flames with a bluish light, and as the book's paper began to burn, the pages opened as if someone wanted to read them, and the corporal didn't even wait for the fire to die down, no, instead he packed on some charcoal from the bag right away, and then, without putting anything underneath, he put the stew pot on the charcoal, pulled up the picnic chair, sat down, waited just until the water started boiling, and began sprinkling flour into the pot and stirring the grits with a branch, and while washing the trailer I saw the dogs get up by turns and sidle over to the pot, and every time that happened the corporal would swish his stirring stick at the dog, but not a single dog even looked at him, each one just avoided being hit and slowly made its way around the corporal's chair, and nice and slowly it then went back to its place next to the other two dogs, and before long, another dog got up and circled around the corporal, and so on, just like that.
The trailer was still practically as gray as at first, even though we'd scratched a whole lot of grime off it, and by now even the water in the washtub was like liquid mud, we didn't even stick the rags into it anymore, no, I noticed that the others were also mostly just watching the corporal stir the grits. Suddenly he took the stew pot off the fire and threw the stirring stick over to the dogs before standing up and calling us over, and now he stepped to the bucket and put the stew pot on the ground next to the pickle jar, picked up the jar, took such a long swig from the now mostly grayish disinfecting alcohol that he stopped only when we got there, and that's when I noticed six little mason jars put out beside one another on the picnic table, the corporal poured the alcohol into them from high above, and since the mouth of the pickle jar was pretty wide, a lot of the liquor spilled out onto the table beside the little jars, but finally every one of them was filled to the brim, and the corporal handed each one of us a jar and he too picked one up, and he took a match and lit the disinfecting alcohol in the last jar, and then he told us to drink up, to the last drop, in memory of his father.
I didn't really want to drink, my throat was still full of the taste of the plum spirits, but as I watched that flickering blue flame I picked up the mason jar all the same and sipped the disinfecting alcohol, it tasted like liquid smoke, at first it scratched its way down my throat and then it started to burn, which made me have to cough, and the others coughed too, only the corporal drank it all down no problem, and then he put his jar on the table and said his father really loved his liquor, that that's what took him to the grave, this year he would have been seventy-six, if it hadn't been for his drinking he would have reached a hundred for sure, but at least this way his life had been a little easier because liquor makes life a bit easier, he said, not that we know this yet, no, we're kids, but we'll learn it yet, we would indeed, a while back he didn't understand it either, why, he'd even argued with his father over drink, but since then life had taught him this, it sure as hell
had, and as the corporal said that he wiped a hand on his pants where the stump of his cut-off leg was, and then he refilled his mason jar and waved a hand for us to hold out our own jars, and after refilling everyone's he picked up the stew pot, poured the grits right onto the table, cupped out a big clump with his bare hands, and said with a full mouth, "Dig in, everyone, let's honor Dad's memory." After also cupping out a handful of grits, Zsolt said, "May the earth be light upon Mr. Vászile," and after chewing up the grits in his mouth he sprinkled out a bit of the filtered disinfecting alcohol from his mason jar and took a swig, and then the rest of us also scooped out some grits, which in places was black with soot, and I could feel it crackling under my teeth as I chewed, not that it was bad. Besides, it took away the bitter smoky taste of the filtered alcohol, and the others also ate, and after taking another big handful the corporal raised his mason jar and gulped down all the alcohol inside and flung the jar against the wall of the trailer so hard that it shattered, and then he called out, "All right, we've cried enough, so let's have a good time already, no more looking back, only forward," and then he pulled a record from the heap and set it on the phonograph and told us that this was his father's favorite tune, he'd have us know that there was no one in the world who could sing like this, and he called over to Jancsi to sit down by the stool and make sure the music didn't let up, and then he set the needle down on the record, this was the first time I ever heard music coming from an old phonograph, the horn made the music really loud, sure, it crackled and scraped a whole lot, but I could clearly hear the wooden flute, the violin, and the accordion, and the harsh, raspy voice of an older woman singer. The song was about some forest, about how this forest is full of shadows, shadows and darkness so thick that they smother goodness and love, I don't really remember the lyrics, all I remember is how that old lady singer made her voice quiver,
like when dry branches brush up against each other in the wind, even the dogs raised their heads and began whimpering, softer or louder depending on the music, and then all at once the corporal began to dance, right there among all those scattered clothes, shoes, and odds and ends, plus he sang, but it wasn't real singing, it was more like the deep, throaty rattle crows make, and come to think of it, he really did look like a big gray crow as he jumped about raising a crutch into the air, but somehow he didn't seem ridiculous, and as I watched him the liquor got moving in me too, and not only in me but also in Zsolt and in Csabi, plus in Jancsi there by the stool, yes, all at the same time our legs began moving and our arms spread out, and before we knew it we too were dancing right there among all that junk, at first I was careful not to step on any clothes or glass jars or books or whatever, but then I accidentally kicked a gutted radio and heard something crack, and Zsolt jumped right on a straw hat, and then the music got even louder, by now the liquor was moving my arms and legs like wild, I didn't even know what I was kicking out of the way or what was cracking apart under my boots, a plastic ice cream cup or an old model airplane or a pair of sunglasses, and the others weren't paying any attention either, Jancsi kicked a book dead on, and as it flew up into the air it opened completely and all the pages tore right out of the spine, not that I saw it fall, no, the music was spinning me round and round, and the corporal now squatted down on that one leg of his before suddenly kicking himself up into the air while leaning on his crutches, objects swirled all around him like a whirlwind, ties and record jackets and pictures and sheets of paper and bank notes and handkerchiefs and stockings, and meanwhile we also kept jumping about, the loud crackle of the phonograph needle scratched away in my chest and the blaring of the accordion buzzed in my head, and then all at once the corporal flung away
his crutches and picked up the gasoline can and hugged it like it was a woman and whirled his way toward the trailer on that one leg of his, almost falling at one point, but then he kept spinning upright to the rhythm of the music as he proceeded to unclasp the gasoline can and splash the disinfecting alcohol all over the trailer, the smell wafted our way along with the scent of the earth, it was really strong, and finally the gasoline can emptied out and the corporal flung it aside so hard that he flopped on his back, and at that instant the phonograph record stopped and everything got really, really quiet, Jancsi didn't put the record back on, so we stopped too. I was dizzy as could be, everything around me was spinning as if I was still dancing, the ground kept sinking and swelling under my feet so much that I could hardly keep standing, and the others were also lurching about, hunching forward and leaning back like they too were still dancing, the disinfecting alcohol let off a thick steam that looked like pale gray smoke, but I could make out the corporal lying there on his back and taking a pack of matches from his pocket, and the moment he finally managed to light one match the whole pack flared up in his hand and he flung it at the trailer, shouting on and on about how the world should be set on fire, the whole fucking world, so every last bit of it would burn to a crisp, and the flames ran along the side of the trailer, at first following the lines left by the disinfecting alcohol the corporal had just splashed there, but in no time the paint and the wood burst into crackling big yellow flames, and although the corporal was still there lying on the ground, he managed to reach out and try like hell to pull the wedge out from under the wheel of the burning trailer, and finally it worked, the trailer began shaking violently and rolled slowly down toward the lake, and try as he did to stagger to his feet, the corporal had nothing to grab hold of, so he flopped back down on the ground and turned on his side and watched the trailer roll ablaze into the water, the flames fizzled along the bottom as it entered, but the trailer didn't sink, no, the top half was still in flames as the whole thing floated out toward the middle of the lake before coming to a standstill without sinking any more, as if it had run aground, all it did was give off flames that glistened red against the gray water as if the whole middle of the lake was on fire, and the corporal just lay there motionless on the ground, his head leaning against his arm as he watched the fire.
While gazing at those flames I imagined that maybe they were lighting up the whole lake, meaning that if I went down next to the water and looked in, I'd be able to see what's on the bottom, and I was just about to do so when Zsolt said it would be best if we got going because the corporal would wake up in no time and think up some other festivity in memory of his father, and I looked at the corporal lying there on the ground with his arms spread out and his mouth open wide and snoring away, and I said I agreed that we really should leave because we'd pass out in no time too, but then Jancsi said that as long as we'd held out so far we should definitely see if there really was gold in the quarry wall, besides, the dogs wouldn't let us leave the property anyway, the corporal said they were man-killers, and then Zsolt nodded and said Jancsi was right, we really should do something about those dogs, and I said I knew just what we should do. I went over to the picnic table and swept all the leftover grits to the ground and poured on top the remaining disinfecting alcohol from the pickle jar, at least two quarts, and when I then threw the empty jar on the ground, the dogs looked up at the noise and I called out, "Come, come, get the yummy mush," and sure enough, they came right over and dug their snouts into the liquor-soaked grits.
Even though I was still pretty dizzy, I went along with the other guys to the quarry wall and the dogs didn't come after us,
we went straight to below the worn prehistoric reliefs and stopped next to the wall, which looked scaly from close up, like dragon skin, as if that was also part of the reliefs, at first I didn't even want to touch the wall, but then I swung my hammer after all, as the others also started pounding, the wall was so crumbly that we hardly had to drive the hammers in before fist-sized clumps of clay came tearing out, and although the earth had this greasy sparkle to it that made me queasy, I took one swing of the hammer after another all the same, and suddenly I heard a hollow clang, and then I looked straight ahead and saw a flat, glistening metal nugget drop out from under the head of the hammer, and I leaned down and picked it up. It was just like the nugget Zsolt had shown us, and I stood up fast and again swung the hammer into the quarry wall, and by now glistening gold nuggets were popping out one after another from under the blows of the others' hammers too, two or three at a time, more with each blow, a whole lot of nuggets were sparkling by our feet, and after a while we hardly even needed to hammer anymore, the nuggets showered from the wall practically on their own. We threw the hammers down and Jancsi said he wouldn't have thought so, but he now saw that it was true, there really was gold here, and he crouched and began stuffing his pockets, and then the rest of us also began filling our pockets with those nuggets exactly the way they were, full of dirt, and just when I was about to say "Enough, let's go already because there'll be trouble," all of a sudden we heard the corporal yelling, "What the motherfucking hell are you kids up to?" He was standing right behind us, leaning on his crutches, and we all turned and stood up straight, and he asked again what we were up to, and as he spoke, the stench of booze was so intense that I felt sick to my stomach and couldn't get a word out, but Zsolt replied, "Can't you see we're mining gold? We know full well that this was why your dad had guarded the clay pit like he did, it wasn't because of those shoddy prehistoric reliefs." But the corporal shook his head and said, "There's no kind of gold here at all, damn it," and Zsolt then held out his gold-heaped hands to the corporal and asked, "Well then, what's this?" but the corporal just shook his head and said we were plain crazy, how could we even have thought we'd find gold in a clay pit, couldn't we see that these were just spent machine-gun bullets? He raised a crutch into the air and swung it down on Zsolt's cupped hands so hard that all the metal nuggets went flying, and he yelled at us to get out, to scram as fast as our legs would take us because if he saw us inside those gates one more time he'd knock our brains out and pour gasoline all over our corpses and set us on fire and throw us into the lake, he would, there'd be nothing left of us except a bunch of charred bones, and maybe not even that, so we'd better run and keep running, and not look back.