Childhood of the Dead

by Jose Louzeiro

  “This is not a place for punks!”

  Dito wished to get an iron bar, to assail this useless, worthless crud, to club him to pieces. But he controlled himself. The worker continued to grouse. Dito made as if he didn’t hear, climbing a pile of rails, coming down on the other side near the station. Then, when he saw a group of mechanics washing their hands and arms with gasoline, he had an idea. Why not approach them and ask? He would invent a story. He would say, his widowed mother lived alone in Sao Paulo, that he had come to Rio looking for work, to get money from a relative, but he ended up not finding him. Now, he had to return and had no money. That’s why he was there, hoping to get a free ride on a train to Sao Paulo.

  A black man observed him attentively. A fat white man laughed at his tale.

  “I’m tired of that old story, boy. Keep moving.”

  Dito didn’t budge. The black man dried off his hands on rags, pointed toward a line of cars and two locomotives.

  “I believe that train leaves before sundown. I think the engineer is a man called Evangelist. Go there. He might help you out.”

  Seeing the mechanic’s good will the others stopped laughing and joking. The boy went away, thanking him. He walked alongside the railcars and observed how high they were, the huge size of their steel wheels, bolted to enormously thick axles. There was no one in the locomotives, though one of them had its engines running. He went to the place where a pale thin man sold desserts from a tray covered by a white cloth; he sat down on the sidewalk, waiting for the engineer to appear. When Dito was eating a slice of manioc cake, he saw men walking toward the locomotive. He ran after them. All he needed to know was whether this was the train about to leave for Sao Paulo. The rest would be more or less easy to resolve. He ran the risk of getting the wrong information, but he had to chance it.

  VIII

  He sat on the wide sidewalk by the crumbling warehouse, sucking on hard milk candies, while he waited for Manguito and Smokey. After a while, he saw Smokey, running, his shirt flapping on his back. Dito offered him some candy when he arrived, but even before speaking, Smokey was already pointing in the direction of the train.

  “That’s the one going. I asked three guys.”

  “They didn’t suspect anything?”

  “I don’t think so. I said there was a man who wanted to know. He had a package to ship.”

  Smokey laughed at his own imagination. Dito was even more pleased. He never thought that this boy could be so spirited. He himself had not been that clever.

  “Then what did they say?”

  “That’s the train and it will leave right after sundown.”

  “I was told that too.”

  Manguito showed up, sat down. He was always tired. Any little run and his tongue would be hanging out.

  “That one is the freight. The one with two engines.”

  Dito was sure that was the train. So, he lay down on the large sidewalk, and stared at the disintegrating roof. Smokey whistled, counting the money again. Manguito dreamed about the girls he’d get to know and began talking trash.

  “Have you humped a woman in your life, man?” Dito asked suddenly.

  Manguito got stirred up. “Have I! And a good one too.”

  “Where was this?” Smokey wanted to know, feeling somewhat suspicious and jealous.

  “At the children’s home. She was blind but delicious.”

  Smokey laughed, still counting his money. “I bet she only went with you ‘cause she couldn’t see your face.”

  Manguito didn’t like the joke. “Shut up, shrimp. When we go after girls in Sao Paulo we’ll have to find a crib to leave you sleeping.”

  “Hey dude, I’m a man,” Smokey said. “I can handle anything.”

  Dito continued to observe the ceiling which threatened to fall, chuckling at Manguito and Smokey’s jive. But by Smokey’s answers he perceived the little black boy was brighter than he’d imagined. And because they were only talking trash, he began to tell them what to do in Sao Paulo.

  “Over there we can’t screw up. Any mistake and there will be a bunch of hawks all over us. First we try to find Deborah, at the Lavapés Street. We get the money and hit the road. We might spend an entire week doing nothing before looking for Crystal again. Then, I’m going back to that cemetery and close accounts.”

  “I’m going also. Pichote was my friend,” Smokey said.

  Dito lifted himself onto his elbows.

  “This job is mine alone.”

  “But who had the best idea to discover which train would go to Sao Paulo?” Smokey asked defiantly.

  Dito laughed. He knew Smokey was right.

  “OK. You can come.”

  The station’s lights were turned on, later the street lights, the lights at the public square seen in the distance, lights at some points in the road on posts, shining only on clumps of broad-leaf grass.

  “I think it’s time to split. Look alive, now, this is the real thing. I think it’s better to go underneath the cars.”

  Smokey put on his new jacket, Manguito tied his around the waist. Dito tucked his in his pants’ waistband. They walked down the warehouse’s wide sidewalk, mingled with the darkness that slowly erased the differences between grass clumps and heaps of tracks and sleepers.

  Dito went ahead, followed by Manguito. They walked at first by the side of the cars, jumping at the end of the sleepers. When they saw the signalman’s lantern, they tried to hide.

  “Be careful with your head, Smokey. Don’t hurt the train,” Manguito joked.

  Dito told them to be quiet, and the march proceeded. Once in a while they came out from under, hoping to find one of the car doors open. But again, it was Smokey who discovered what they were searching for.

  “On the other side there’s a door open a bit. I think we can get in and open it more.”

  “How do you know this?”

  Smokey didn’t answer. He came out from under the car again and showed them.

  “Look!”

  Dito was excited. Manguito joked.

  “This imp has such sharp eyes . . . .”

  Dito listened, concluding there was no one in the car. He examined whether the car could be locked from the outside. He helped Smokey climb, and the boy disappeared.

  “It’s dark as shit in here. I can’t see nothing!”

  Manguito asked Dito to open the door a little more. From an awkward position outside Dito strained. The heavy sliding door opened so they could squeeze in. Manguito thought it was dangerous to stay for a long time in the dark.

  “I’m gonna buy cigarettes and matches.”

  Dito thought this was a good idea.

  “Don’t let anyone see you coming in this direction. Go the long way around.”

  Manguito jumped out of the wagon again, creeping in between piles of tracks, sleepers and grass clumps.

  “What if the train leaves before he comes back?” Smokey asked.

  “I don’t think it will. When it’s supposed to go the signal and lantern people will show up.”

  A few minutes later Manguito came back. Besides cigarettes and matches, he’d brought a bag of sandwiches and candies.

  “Hey man! That’s cool. If you hadn’t remembered this, we would die of hunger!”

  Putting the sandwich bag aside, Dito tried to close the door as tightly as he could. A match was struck; the wagon was full of boxes. They could stay there for the entire trip without fear of being bothered.

  “What if the freight goes to some other town before Sao Paulo?” Manguito asked.

  Dito was free of worries now.

  “We’ll get down, we’ll move to another car. There’s no reason to get the jitters.”

  Manguito passed out the sandwiches while Dito shared the hard milk candies he still had in his pockets.

  * * *

  CHAPTER TWO

  I

  Manguito found a place in a seat behind the bus driver. Smokey sat behind him and next to Dito. This was Smokey’s first time in Sao
Paulo. The crisscross of overpasses, the tunnels, the large avenues, all filled the boy with curiosity, and Dito answered his questions.

  They got out in a street of old houses, where tall buildings were rare and where they saw Japanese people in almost all street corners and in bars. The street was dirty and the sidewalks had potholes. They went into a luncheonette where Dito paid for coffee with cream. Manguito asked for bread and butter. They chose a table and carried with them cups and a glass with coffee. Smokey laughed every time the Japanese at the cash register spoke with another behind the counter. He couldn’t understand anything they said and he found that comical.

  “Do you think we’ll find Deborah?”

  “If she’s not there, we’ll wait.”

  Manguito kept on eating his bread.

  “Are we still very far from her house?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  The short, strong Japanese man, with a dirty towel tied over his belly began collecting the cups and the glass. The boys stood up and left. The day was somber, puddles in the sidewalks revealed it had rained the day before.

  The boys passed by a large house being demolished, then by a salvage yard where a truck manoeuvered, and finally arrived at a small two-story building with workers on scaffoldings.

  Dito spoke to one of the men, as Crystal had advised; the man stepped down some stairs and told them to follow him. They went through a long corridor. Dito had all his senses alert now, realizing how naive he’d been not anticipating this situation.

  The stranger, covered in paint stains, had on old shoes and walked noisily on the worn hardwood floors. At his side, Manguito didn’t seem to find anything disturbing. Smokey followed behind. The man pushed a door open. They saw some old chairs with ripped upholstery and grimy curtains. “Wait here a second. They’ll come soon.”

  The boys sat down and listened to the man’s steps out in the corridor. Dito believed Smokey was scared. Manguito whispered, “I’m not liking this, man!”

  Manguito looked down the corridor. Soon after, the three of them heard steps again. More than one were coming. Dito stood up and saw two women. The tallest and fattest had make up on and a professional-looking hairdo. She looked as if she had an evening gown on. She smiled widely, when she saw Dito.

  “It was Crystal who sent you,” she said entering the room. “Welcome.”

  She asked for details about the trip. But Dito, who wasn’t disposed to disclose anything, went directly to the main topic.

  “Crystal asked us to give you some things, and to get the rest of the money.”

  The woman smiled again, asking for the goods. Manguito pointed to his trousers.

  “They’ve been sewed here.”

  “That’s Crystal, always on the lookout,” she said. “Stay behind that curtain and give me the pants.” Celina, the other woman, pulled out the stitches.

  Dito looked at the woman who had come in with Deborah. She was thin and very wrinkled, silent the whole time.

  “He’s the only one who has to stay behind the curtain,” Manguito said, smiling. “We have shorts on.”

  “That’s good. While Celina takes care of this, I’m going to get the money and call for coffee.”

  Dito thanked her, Manguito did the same, but the woman didn’t seem to hear them. She walked down the corridor, high heels clacking on the floor. Celina cut the stitches with a blade, returning Manguito’s and Smokey’s pants. Dito’s was last. As he put his pants on, he felt one of the little bags had not been taken.

  “You forgot one.”

  “Deborah said to leave it. You’ll deliver it someplace else.”

  That wasn’t in Crystal’s agreement, but he his complaint would have to wait until the other woman reappeared. He couldn’t resolve this with Celina who didn’t appear to be in charge. She had simply followed Deborah, and she’d moved about the room as silent as a statue, cutting the threads sewn in by Crystal.

  After Smokey put on his pants, Manguito teased him saying that if he didn’t want to be embarrassed, he needed to buy some underwear. Dito heard all this joking about, but grew suspicious of Deborah’s disappearance to get coffee. Celina had also gone away silently. Ten minutes had gone by and only then did Dito notice they’d taken the little bags. Even though the boys had heard no noise, at that moment a big fat and bearded man in a light colored suit and black tie showed up. He came in and locked the door. The boys ran to one side, Smokey hid behind the curtain. The man grabbed Dito by the arm, sat in a chair and jerked him.

  “Let’s talk, punk!”

  Saying this he twisted Dito’s arm. “Where is the cocaine?”

  Dito was horrified. A wave of heat came over his body, his ears caught fire, his eyes burned as if he were about to cry.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

  “You know very well, you son of a whore!”

  The huge man gave him the first blow. Manguito jumped on him, but was pushed aside with a kick. And twisting Dito’s arm up behind his back, the stranger also grabbed Dito by the hair.

  “Answer me, or I’ll beat you to a pulp! If you loosen your tongue, things may improve.”

  Dito didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t figure out if the guy was a cop or one of Deborah’s dealer friends, who wanted to cut Crystal out of the deal. He was confused and stunned. His arm was being twisted more and his hair was being pulled out with each silent moment.

  “Talk, punk, before I get mad.”

  “I gave everything to Deborah,” he said almost crying.

  “That’s a lie, you dog! Don’t bring the woman into your mess!”

  With this, the man’s attitude changed. He began to squeeze Dito by the neck, and when Manguito and Smokey tried to intercede, they were stepped on. Finally he pushed the boy onto one of the chairs. Dito was breathless. Smokey saw when the man opened the door and two other men came in. A tall, skinny man began to search Dito.

  “Take his clothes off,” ordered the bearded man.

  The short dark man pulled Dito by the legs onto the floor. His pants were pulled off, and the skinny guy searched them. When he found the little bag that Celina had left stitched on, his eyes lit up. He turned the pants inside out and showed it to the big man.

  “Look!”

  The dark guy opened a pocket knife in a key ring and cut the threads. The little bag ended up in the bearded man’s hands. He smelled it and behaved as if he were examining a precious thing.

  “Coke. Just as we suspected!”

  II

  Dito left the building crying with pain and anger. He wished to die. He had been so stupid! Why had he believed Crystal, a man he barely knew? Why had he believed Deborah when she said she would get the money and coffee? Why had he let Celina take away the goods, before they got paid? And who were those men? He was confused. Seldom had he felt this way, sad and defeated. He was still more distressed, listening to Smokey’s low sobbing. How could his friends have believed in him, he, who let himself be caught like a little fish? It couldn’t be. Crystal shouldn’t have done that.

  The VW bus had uncomfortable side seats. Dito needed to hold on to his seat with both hands. The car’s interior was dark and he could barely see his friends’ shadows.

  “What a bitch that woman, hunh?” It was all Manguito said.

  Smokey stopped sobbing.

  “I’ll bet they are taking us to juvenile court.”

  Dito didn’t know what to say. If that were so, it wouldn’t be the worst case scenario. He feared worse complications.

  After a lot of riding around, the VW bus’s doors were opened. The men secured the three boys by the waist band of their pants. They took a few steps, went up a stairway, and walked into a large empty room. The big man took off his jacket, hung it on the mirror by the chair, rolled up his sleeves, and let his thick hairy arms and gold wrist watch show.

  “Take them to the confession booth . . . .”

  The men began pushing Dito. Now the boys knew they were at a police
station, exactly what Dito had feared most. They went down an iron stairway, passed by two bathrooms reeking with urine, entered a windowless room brightened by a single large bulb. The only chairs were around the table.

  “It’s better to open your mouths soon. Dr. Mauro doesn’t play around. He’s already skint many a bad character, so you have no chance,” said the skinny man, with a cynical smile.

  “Don’t say that, man. The kids here have personality. That’s the way I like to see them,” said the short dark man provocatively. “This one has the looks of a macho man,” he said and he tried to touch Dito, who avoided the intimacy.

  The thin guy said the police chief was coming. Smokey felt a cold chill down his spine, Manguito got scared, and Dito knew then what was going to happen.

  The door opened, the big man still had his sleeves up and had taken his tie off. He sat down, the skinny man shut the door, while the short man took a piece of garden hose from a drawer.

  “I usually keep my promises. I promised a beating, and that’s what you’ll have. Unless you give me the name of the guy who gave you the cocaine. Let’s begin with the smallest one.”

  Smokey’s eyes got round. The thin man pulled him close to the table.

  “Where’d you find the cocaine?”

  Smokey looked at Dito, then at Manguito, and shook his head. The dark man didn’t wait any longer but gave him the first blow on his back, then he hit him in the chest, on the head and legs. He held Smokey with one hand and beat him with the other until the big man told him to stop.

  “I don’t want any screaming around here.”

  The skinny man got a dirty napkin from the drawer, and gagged Smokey’s mouth. The dark man smiled and resumed the beating.

  “When you think it’s time to stop, you talk,” the police chief said to Dito.

  Smokey could no longer move. He was standing up only because the dark man held him by an arm. Dito knew they would kill Smokey, if he didn’t talk.

  “He had nothing to do with this. The deal was all mine,” he said to stop the beating.

  “That’s the way to talk,” said the police chief. “And who is the supplier?”

  “A man called Crystal. He hangs around the Sao Joao slum, in Rio de Janeiro.”