Ruined Map - Abe Kobo [102]
I COULD only assume someone was watching me. Outside it was all white, and although colors had not yet returned to objects, it was already light enough to distinguish clearly the shapes of things, and drivers were beginning to turn off their headlights. Yet the inside of the shop was still lighter, and through the loose weave of the Camellia’s black curtains I could clearly make out the interior. The shop, which had always been so deserted and forlorn that it made me ill at ease, was now a confusion of closely packed black figures. Just by changing the fourteenth to the fifteenth in my report I could let it stand as it was, apparently. People on the inside could not yet see out very well, and as a matter of fact everyone was facing the counter, his attention focused on something or other. There was absolutely no indication they were keeping watch outside or being particularly vigilant. It was conceivable that the attendant in the parking lot somehow or other could secretly contact them.
Furthermore, even I took no precautions. My goal was simply to glean some clue concerning the husband by seeing a familiar face, but they were close-mouthed fellows and I had no intention of forcing anyone to talk. Out of work I was, but I hadn’t yet thought of trying a shakedown by exposing the unlicensed operation. My eye was caught by the rewritten help-wanted ad, Female Clerk Wanted, and I calmly pushed open the accustomed door and shouldered into the heated atmosphere and commotion.
It was impossible to discern exactly what was going on. Two or three men standing at the front turned and looked at me with hostile eyes; the next instant I was seized by the collar by hands extended from the corner near the door, while an arm violently beat on my head, which unexpectedly began to reel. No, it was not an arm, but a blackjack perhaps … something soft and limp like a rubber truncheon. The heavy dizziness in my chest was an inverted cone. I could taste the bitter gastric juices dripping from its point. My face was struck or I was kicked, but I felt no particular pain. That came when I was carried unconscious outside. Beside my car, parked immediately in front, I was kicked about the neck and hips. A sharp pain exploded with a flash like shooting fireworks, piercing my heart. Perhaps it was that that brought me back to consciousness. Someone opened the car door and two others, supporting me on both sides, thrust me in. My legs were folded in under the dashboard and the door was violently closed. They were experts. Unfortunately I was unable after all to see the faces of the men who had manhandled me.
The pain brought back my energy. I tried moving my shoulders; fortunately the ache had nothing to do with them. My two hands were covered with blood. Looking into the rear-view mirror, I could see splotches of blood on my face, as if someone had been playing tricks with paint. My nose was blocked, and it was difficult to breathe. I took out from under the seat the old towel I used for cleaning off the windshield and wiped away the blood. But I couldn’t do much against the slimy red that clung to my face. My nose hadn’t stopped bleeding yet. I pinched my nose with two fingers and, leaning my head against the back rest, I waited for some time with my face upward. But I could not spend a long time like this. There were almost no passers-by yet, but the window of the Camellia had already become a black mirror, and the surroundings had taken on color with the onset of morning. Then the quiet and deserted street was suddenly swarming with people. I could not let a face like mine be seen. I rolled up a Kleenex and plugged my nose. Aware of the eyes that were surely peering at me from the window of the Camellia, I started the car and slowly pulled away. The booth at the parking lot was still dark, and fortunately the figure of the old man was not to be seen.
AND AGAIN the white sky … to which the white road seemed directly connected. The street lights had already closed their eyes; the street had broadened