From Here to Eternity_ The Restored Edit - Jones, James [320]
“He sure is,” Prew whispered. “Thanks.” He was beginning to feel conspiratorial, too. He was careful to keep on swinging his hammer and not look around, as Berry was doing beside him. Poor old Angelo, he thought feeling better than he had felt for some time. “I mean that:” he said, “thanks a lot.”
“Dont thank me,” Berry whispered. “Thank The Malloy.”
“For what?”
“It was him give me the message.”
“All right, I’ll thank him,” Prew conceded. “When I see him.”
“He’ll appreciate it,” Berry whispered. “He’s the roughest drill in this factory—but he’s got a heart just like a great big baby,” Berry said with great sentiment.
The Wop, Berry whispered, had slipped the message to The Malloy before Mister Brown and Handsome Hanson and Hayseed Turniphead had taken him out. Berry had been up at the other end talking to Billyclub Burke. The Malloy had told Berry, later, to tell Prewitt.
“An whats your nickname?” Prew whispered foolishly.
“My what?” Berry whispered.
“Your moniker. What they call you?”
“Oh,” Berry whispered. “Why? Call me Blues Berry some time. Razz Berry, Jazz Berry, Fuckle Berry, Goosy Berry—all them like that. Why?”
“Just curious,” Prew whispered happily.
“Use to call me Beer Belly,” Berry grinned wolfishly, “but not any more.”
“But will again,” Prew whispered.
“Sure,” Berry grinned. “I should live so long. This time’s The Wop’s fifth trip since he been here,” Berry whispered proudly. “You know that?”
“He dint tell me. I seen he was pretty scarred up though.”
“Hell,” Berry snorted, “you think he’s scarred? The Wop aint scarred. Look at that.” He showed a long line down his jaw. “Look at my nose. Someday I show you my back and chest, where Fatso work me over, one time.”
“You mean he used a whip!”
“Hell no!” Berry exploded indignantly. “Dont you know whips is unlegal in this country? He just use a plain grub hoe handle but he’s good with one. Someday I’m going to kill him for it,” Berry chuckled, as if that would be a joke on Fatso.
Prew felt something cold. “Does he know it?”
“Sure,” Berry grinned. “I told him.”
Prew felt something colder, as if he were standing out in a raw wind in a thin shirt and with no jacket to put on. He remembered Fatso’s eyes. “What’d he say?”
“Dint say nothing,” Berry chuckled. “Just hit me again.”
“I wonder why they didnt come get me too, last night?” Prew asked him.
“They got it in for The Wop,” Berry whispered. “Because he wont take none of their shit. They wear themselves out on him and they still cant get a peep out of him. He’s a tough little baby, pal.”
“He sure is. He’s from my Compny, you know.”
“They bang him around like a tackling dummy,” Berry chuckled. “Till their old ass is draggin the ground. And they cant make a dent in that boy. They’ve made plenty them on him,” he laughed merrily, “but they sure cant make them in him. He’s got them stumped. The Wop’s got that old college try, pal, I mean. Next to The Malloy he’s just about the hardest artery in this hospital.”
“He’s a good boy,” Prew whispered proudly.
“You just bet your sweet life he is, pal,” Berry chuckled. “Well, I see you later. I got to shove before that guard sweats me. They all fartin fire today.” He slouched off thinly, through the gray cloud of rockdust that Prew swore made as much resistance to a hammerswing as water, a long thin phantom-shape straight out of a good citizen’s nightmare, moving unrepentently through the hell to which they and himself had consigned him.
Prew remembered to let him go a few seconds, before he risked turning to get a better look at him. Angelo was really getting up there, when he had earned the unreserved admiration of an old hand like this Berry. He must have used his time well and worked very hard, to amass such an enviable reputation in only two months. And now Prewitt was getting to ride in on the skirts of the garment he had once helped to fit, in a way.
He felt a twinge of envy, like the schoolteacher