The Postman Always Rings Twice - James M. Cain [13]
We started up the first long up-grade, into the mountains. There were three miles of it. I had told her how to run it. Most of the time she was in second. That was partly because there were sharp curves every fifty feet, and the car would lose speed so quick going around them that she would have to shift up to second to keep going. But it was partly because the motor had to heat. Everything had to check up. We had to have plenty to tell.
And then, when he looked out and saw how dark it was, and what a hell of a looking country those mountains were, with no light, or house, or filling station, or anything else in sight, the Greek came to life and started an argument.
"Hold on, hold on. Turn around. By golly, we off the road."
"No we're not. I know where I am. It takes us to Malibu Beach. Don't you remember? I told you I wanted to see it."
"You go slow."
"I'm going slow."
"You go plenty slow. Maybe all get killed."
We got to the top and started into the down-grade. She cut the motor. They heat fast for a few minutes, when the fan stops. Down at the bottom she started the motor again. I looked at the temp gauge. It was 200. She started into the next up-grade and the temp gauge kept climbing.
"Yes sir, yes sir."
It was our signal. It was one of those dumb things a guy can say any time, and nobody will pay any attention to it. She pulled off to one side. Under us was a drop so deep you couldn't see the bottom of it. It must have been 500 feet.
"I think I'll let it cool off a bit."
"By golly, you bet. Frank, look a that. Look what it says."
"Whassit say?"
"Two hundred a five. Would be boiling in minute."
"Letta boil."
I picked up the wrench. I had it between my feet. But just then, way up the grade, I saw the lights of a car. I had to stall. I had to stall for a minute, until that car went by.
"C'me on, Nick. Sing's a song."
He looked out on those bad lands, but he didn't seem to feel like singing. Then he opened the door and got out. We could hear him back there, sick. That was where he was when the car went by. I looked at the number to burn it in my brain. Then I burst out laughing. She looked back at me.
"'S all right. Give them something to remember. Both guys alive when they went by."
"Did you get the number?"
"2R-58-01."
"2R-58-01. 2R-58-01. All right. I've got it too."
"O.K."
He came around from behind, and looked like he felt better. "You hear that?"
"Hear what?"
"When you laugh. Is a echo. Is a fine echo."
He tossed off a high note. It wasn't any song, just a high note, like on a Caruso record. He cut if off quick and listened. Sure enough, here it came back, clear as anything, and stopped, just like he had.
"Is a sound like me?"
"Jus' like you, kid. Jussa same ol' toot."
"By golly. Is swell."
He stood there for five minutes, tossing off high notes and listening to them come back. It was the first time he ever heard what his voice sounded like. He was as pleased as a gorilla that seen his face in the mirror. She kept looking at me. We had to get busy. I began to act sore. "Wot th' hell? You think we got noth'n t' do but lis'n at you yod'l at y'self all night? C'me on, get in. Le's get going."
"It's getting late, Nick,"
"Hokay, hokay."
He got in, but shoved his face out to the window and let go one. I braced my feet, and while he still had his chin on the window sill I brought down the wrench. His head cracked, and I felt it crush. He crumpled up and curled on the seat like a cat on a sofa. It seemed a year before he was still. Then Cora, she gave a funny kind of gulp that ended in a moan. Because here came the echo of his voice. It took the high note, like he did, and swelled, and stopped, and waited.
CHAPTER 8
We didn't say anything. She knew what to do. She climbed back, and I climbed front. I looked at the wrench under the dash light. It had a few drops of blood on it. I uncorked a bottle of wine, and poured it on there till the blood was gone. I poured so the wine went over him. Then I wiped the wrench on a dry part of his clothes, and passed it back to her. She put it under the seat. I poured more wine over where I had wiped the wrench, cracked the bottle against the door, and laid it on top of him. Then I started the car. The wine bottle gave a gurgle, where a little of it was running out the crack.