The Last Man Standing (26 page)

PART FOUR

It was not the sharp pain that woke Leonardo, but the sound of his nose being broken: a clean snap without an echo, like a stick breaking. Stunned, he opened his eyes, but barely had time to recognize the leaden first light of daybreak between the branches before something hard and hollow hit him on the cheekbone. As he sank into darkness he heard Lucia cry out. Opening his left eye, he saw her on all fours being dragged along by a man with an antique-looking rifle in his free hand.

“Lucia!” he tried to yell, but blood filled his mouth and turned her name into an incomprehensible choking sound. Then someone grabbed him by the collar. He kicked out in an effort to break free, but with the speed of someone who has done nothing else all his life, the man tied his head against the tree behind him with two turns of wire, forced his arms behind his back, and bound his wrists together. Leonardo felt his shoulder pop out of joint. He shrieked. Someone kicked him in the mouth, breaking several teeth.

When he opened his eyes again, a youth with blond hair was crouching beside him, his face a few centimeters from Leonardo’s. His hair was divided by a central part, and he had the nut-colored eyes of a young dog. Two glossy black marks on his cheeks looked as if they had been made with pitch or tempera. He had no eyebrows.

Leonardo began to say something, but the boy was too quick for him.

“Take it easy,” he said in a friendly voice.

When the boy got up, Leonardo saw Sebastiano and Alberto still lying where they had fallen asleep the night before. Raised on their right elbows, they were looking at him in astonishment. Sebastiano was holding Bauschan firmly under his arm; the dog was barking but could not drown Lucia’s cries.

The blond youth went to sit near them in front of what was left of the fire. He rubbed the bare, nervous arms emerging from his green leather waistcoat, and then he took a plastic pouch from his pocket, opened it, and lifted it to his nose and inhaled violently, before looking without interest at Sebastiano and Alberto. Nor did Bauschan’s barking seem to bother him. The part dividing his hair continued down the back of his neck, giving his head the appearance of a fish cleft in two on a serving dish. He had a large pistol stuck in his jeans.

Leonardo spat out his loose teeth and watched them disappear in the pool of blood forming in his lap. His nose felt enormous and shapeless and his right eye was throbbing as if trying to expel the eyeball. He began praying. The first thing that came to mind was the Act of Contrition, and he recited it straight through without hesitation even though he had not heard it for at least forty years. When he reached the end he realized Lucia was not shouting anymore. He looked at Alberto, whose eyes were fixed in spellbound terror on the boy before him.

“That’s enough,” the blond youth said, indicating Bauschan. “If you don’t silence him, I’ll shoot him.”

Sebastiano covered Bauschan with the cowhide and he stopped barking. In the enormous silence this created, Leonardo heard a sound from his right, like the sound of a garment being rubbed on a washboard. Weeping, he tried to turn his head, but the wire around his neck stopped him. He looked down. The grass around him was dark with his blood.

The noise stopped and footsteps could be heard among the dry leaves. A thickset dark-skinned youth went to sit next to the blond one. Leonardo recognized him as the man who had dragged Lucia away. He had the sawn-off antique rifle in his left hand.

“Have you left her on her own?” the blond youth asked.

“She’s passed out, and in any case I’ve tied her up. And the others?”

The blond boy looked at Alberto, who was staring at him without moving.

“Push off! Move! Get lost!”

Everyone stayed exactly where they were.

“See? He’s not moving. He’s shitting himself. And the one with the dog is bonkers.”

“Have you looked if they’ve got any food?”

“No.”

“So what have you done?”

The blond youth turned to glance briefly at Leonardo. He said nothing. On the other hand the dark thickset youth went on staring at the tall man before him, the child without shoes, and the dog under the cowhide. He seemed little enthused by what he saw. At the base of his skull was a round tattoo representing the Tao.

“Do you want to fuck the girl?”

“ ’Course I do.”

“Take her from behind then, that’s what I did. She could be a virgin.”

“Who cares if she’s a virgin or not?”

“But if we bring Richard a virgin, he’ll maybe take us back again.”

The blond youth got up decisively, but once on his feet, stopped to stare at the tattoo on the neck of the other. The thickset youth, still sitting on the ground, reached for Sebastiano’s bag, pulled it over, and began rummaging through it. The blond one spent a moment in thought; then thrust his hands in the pockets of his jeans and moved away. Leonardo heard his steps getting more distant. He counted to ten, realizing Lucia could not be far away. The light had changed: a pale sun had risen and the trees were beginning to produce vague shadows.

With a furious jerk he tried to get up, but the wire smacked into his Adam’s apple, threatening to make a shelled bean of it and taking his breath away. He began weeping or at least thought he was weeping, since all he seemed to have left for a face was a shapeless mass of flesh.

The dark youth, hearing his struggles, stopped inspecting their luggage and turned. His forehead sloped down in steps like that of a primate, and his gestures were graceless, but his little black eyes were evidence of an intelligence that was far from crude.

Leonardo wanted to kill him, kill him and then walk over to the blond boy and kill him too. It was a wonderful sensation, a revelation that lifted him and freed him from pain. Despite his dislocated shoulder and his smashed nose and eye, he knew his hands would have no difficulty in squeezing the necks of those two youths until they were dead. And he knew it would bring him joy and satisfaction. Guilt seemed something for others but not for him. Everything he had thought, done, written, and loved up to that moment meant nothing compared to this naked urge to kill.

The shaven-headed youth gave the other a smile as if welcoming someone who from now on will be a member of the family.

“What have you found?” the blond youth asked, fastening his trousers as he returned.

The dark one showed a package he had found in Sebastiano’s bag.

“What’s that?”

“Dried meat.”

“And the other one?”

“Coffee, I think.”

“Is it coffee or do you just think it is?”

“It is coffee.”

“Where did they get it?”

“How do I know?”

“Let’s ask them.”

“OK, let’s ask them.”

The thickset youth picked up the rifle and pointed it at Alberto.

“Where did you get this stuff?”

Alberto and Sebastiano stared at him in silence.

“Well?”

“In a house,” Alberto said.

“What’s this mumbling? Get up and speak up properly!”

Alberto stood up carefully. Once on his feet he looked down at the ash in the circle of stones. He had his hands between his legs as though he were naked.

“Some people in a house gave it to us.”

“What?” shouted the blond youth.

“They . . .”

The shot echoed through the valley and two huge birds rose from nearby bushes and passed close over their heads. The bullet must have hit a branch because something could be heard falling through the leaves and hitting the ground, but no one could see what it was. Bauschan started barking again. Alberto was crying and trembling.

“In a house!” he shouted.

“Where?”

“I don’t know! A long way off.”

“How far off?”

“Three days back,” Alberto shouted.

The thickset youth smiled at his companion.

“Do you believe him?”

The blond youth laughed. The thickset one lowered the gun and indicated to Alberto that he could sit down again.

“OK, OK,” he said. “Take it easy. Just joking.”

Alberto sat down with the same care as when he had got up and wiped away some snot hanging from his chin. Leonardo thought he could detect the shadow of a smile on his face even though it was contorted with terror.

“What now?” the blond youth said.

“Let’s move. Can the girl walk?”

“I think so, we just have to wake her up.”

“So go and wake her then.”

“And the others?”

“We’ll take the kid, to hell with the others.”

“Don’t we kill them?”

“I’ve only got one round left; I’m not going to waste it. You?”

“I’ve got two. We could kill them with the knife.”

The thickset youth passed a hand over his head. He had blue overalls over a short-sleeved shirt. His olive-colored arms bore little circular scars.

“I don’t feel much like it.”

“What if they follow us?”

“Their problem. Get the girl. You, nitwit, empty your knapsack.”

Sebastiano released Bauschan. The dog, once free, looked around uncertainly, then walked with his ears down to Leonardo and began licking his face. Sebastiano emptied the knapsack on the ground. A sweater, a pair of trousers, some children’s clothes, the exercise book with the brown cover, medicines, gloves, hats, powdered soup, two pans, a plastic bottle, two knives, a shoebox, a comb, some gauze. The thickset youth examined each item carefully, then he told Sebastiano to open the shoebox. Seeing the contents were only letters, he launched a kick at one of the stones around the bonfire. A cloud of ash danced in the air and was pierced by a ray of light before settling again.

“Haven’t you any money?”

Sebastiano went on staring at him in silence. His long, thin face seemed on the point of giving way to an emotion, but he stayed serious and distant.

“The girl had the money in her pants,” said the blond youth, who had disappeared to Leonardo’s right again. The thickset one looked at Alberto.

“Is there any more?” he asked.

Alberto shook his head.

“OK, put on your shoes.”

The blond youth came back, supporting Lucia with an arm around her back. She had lost her shoes and her sweater was torn. One foot was bloodstained.

“Make her put on her shoes,” the thickset one said.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want to carry her over my shoulder. Where’s the money?”

The blond youth took it from his pocket and handed it to his companion, then made Lucia sit down and looked around for her shoes. While he was putting them on her feet, Leonardo shooed Bauschan away with a sudden movement of his head and looked at his daughter’s face. She seemed to have aged by many years, years in which she had neither slept nor eaten nor seen the sun, just wept in the dark, until in the end she had forgotten life itself and what the experience of living can be. She had a bruise on her chin and her trousers were stained with earth. A leaf had settled in her disheveled hair.

“Shall I untie that one?” the blond youth asked when he had finished with Lucia’s shoes.

“Of course not! Take the food and let’s go.”

They filled a knapsack with the food and coffee, then the thickset youth signaled to Alberto to come over and put it on his back. The blond youth helped Lucia to her feet and supported her under the arms; she accepted this without protest. Leonardo watched them walk off. After a dozen steps, the forest swallowed them. All that remained was the silence of branches moving in the wind.

Feeling himself about to faint, Leonardo bit his lips with his broken teeth. Sebastiano had begun collecting things from the ground and putting them back in the backpack.

“What on earth are you doing?” Leonardo said.

Sebastiano seemed not to hear.

“Set me free, Christ!” Leonardo yelled, and felt the words resound in his head like a ball of wet rags. Even his left eye was misting over.

Sebastiano folded the children’s covers and Leonardo’s and put everything in the backpack. When he had finished he put his cowhide around his shoulders, then went to Leonardo. He freed his neck, then his hands. Leonardo felt atrocious pain when he moved his arm. Bauschan licked his ear.

“Please give me some water,” he said.

Sebastiano took the bottle and helped him to drink. When Leonardo touched his face it was like stroking a leather bag full of stones. A huge tear crept out of his left eye. Sebastiano supported him while he got up.

Once on his feet, Leonardo took a few steps holding his right arm, but quickly realized he would not be able to go far like that. He told Sebastiano to take a sweater from the bag and explained how to immobilize his limb. As soon as the weight of his arm was no longer pulling at his shoulder he felt relief.

“You stay here,” he said. “I have to go.”

Sebastiano nodded, but when Leonardo walked off with difficulty in the direction in which the children had disappeared, he picked up the backpack and followed. They began walking down toward the road. Leonardo fell a couple of times, once on his dislocated arm but managed to struggle up again and go on. Bauschan walked a few paces in front. He seemed to be following a scent, but Leonardo was not sure. Nonetheless, he put his faith in the dog since there were no paths and he had no other clues, and after about ten minutes he noticed a leaf with blood on it. They continued downward with the forest thinning out and came to a thicket of bushes. The sky was not entirely clear, but the sun was beginning to warm them. Leonardo stopped to drink because his throat felt full of dust. Sebastiano helped him. Then, weeping, he started forward again. He had no idea what he would do if he caught them up, but he did know that if he did not find them now he would lose them forever.

Emerging from the thicket they came into a field that must once have been cultivated. On the right the slope was studded with olive trees, turned gray with winter. The ground between the trees had been disturbed by wild boar.

It was then that he saw them, about fifty meters lower down, walking along the path beside the river. The blond youth was in front followed by Alberto, then Lucia, and bringing up the rear the other youth carrying the rifle. Lucia was managing without help, but limping. As if he had called them, the two children turned toward him and gave him a brief glance that showed no surprise.