Native Son - Richard Wright [80]
“You’re telling us the truth about all this, aren’t you, Bigger?” Mr. Dalton asked.
“Yessuh.”
“He’s all right,” Britten said. “Come on; let’s get to a phone. I’m having that guy picked up for questioning. It’s the only thing to do. And I’ll have some men go over Miss Dalton’s room. We’ll find out what happened. I’ll bet my right arm that goddamn Red’s up to something!”
Britten went out and Mr. Dalton followed, leaving Bigger still on the edge of the bed. When he heard the door slam, he got up and grabbed his cap and went softly down the stairs into the basement. He stood a moment looking through the cracks into the humming fire, blindingly red now; then he went into the driveway, through the falling snow to the street. He had to see Bessie at once; the kidnap note had to be sent right away; there was no time to lose. If Mr. Dalton, Britten or Peggy missed him and asked him where he had been, he would say that he had gone out to get a package of cigarettes. But with all of the excitement, no one would probably think of him. And they were after Jan now; he was safe.
“Bigger!”
He stopped, whirled, his hand reaching inside of his shirt for his gun. He saw Jan standing in the doorway of a store. As Jan came forward Bigger backed away. Jan stopped.
“For Chrissakes! Don’t be afraid of me. I’m not going to hurt you.”
In the pale yellow sheen of the street lamp they faced each other; huge wet flakes of snow floated down slowly, forming a delicate screen between them. Bigger had his hand inside of his shirt, on his gun. Jan stood staring, his mouth open.
“What’s all this about, Bigger? I haven’t done anything to you, have I? Where’s Mary?”
Bigger felt guilty; Jan’s presence condemned him. Yet he knew of no way to atone for his guilt; he felt he had to act as he was acting.
“I don’t want to talk to you,” he mumbled.
“But what have I done to you?” Jan asked desperately.
Jan had done nothing to him, and it was Jan’s innocence that made anger rise in him. His fingers tightened about the gun.
“I don’t want to talk to you,” he said again.
He felt that if Jan continued to stand there and make him feel this awful sense of guilt, he would have to shoot him in spite of himself. He began to tremble, all over; his lips parted and his eyes widened.
“Go ’way,” Bigger said.
“Listen, Bigger, if these people are bothering you, just tell me Don’t be scared. I’m used to this sort of thing. Listen, now. Let’s go somewhere and get a cup of coffee and talk this thing over.”
Jan came forward again and Bigger drew his gun. Jan stopped; his face whitened.
“For God’s sake, man! What’re you doing? Don’t shoot…. I haven’t bothered you…. Don’t….”
“Leave me alone,” Bigger said, his voice tense and hysterical. “Leave me alone! Leave me alone!”
Jan backed away from him.
“Leave me alone!” Bigger’s voice rose to a scream.
Jan backed farther away, then turned and walked rapidly off, looking back over his shoulder. When he reached the corner he ran through the snow, out of sight. Bigger stood still, the gun in hand. He had utterly forgotten where he was; his eyes were still riveted on that point in space where he had last seen Jan’s retreating form. The tension in him slackened and he lowered the gun until it hung at his side, loosely in his fingers. He was coming back into possession of himself; for the past three minutes it seemed he had been under a strange spell, possessed by a force which he hated, but which he had to obey. He was startled when he heard soft footsteps coming toward him in the snow. He looked and saw a white woman. The woman saw him and paused; she turned abruptly and ran across the street. Bigger shoved the gun in his pocket and ran to the corner. He looked back; the woman was vanishing through the snow, in the opposite direction.
In him as he walked was a cold, driving will. He would go through with this; he would work fast. He had encountered in Jan a much stronger determination than he had thought would be there. If he sent the kidnap note, it