OTHERWISE|
Elke
Chapter Seven
So the little prince tamed the fox. And when
the time for him to leave was approaching:
"Oh!" said the fox. "I am going to cry."
"It's your own fault," said the little prince. "I never
wished you any harm; but you wanted me to tame you..."
"I know," said the fox.
"So you have gained nothing from it all!"
"Yes, I have gained something," said the fox, "because of
the colour of the corn."
Then he added: "Go and look at the roses again. You will
understand that yours is, after all, unique in the world.
Then come back and say goodbye to me; as a present I
will tell you a secret..."
*
Heavy drops were splashing against the window; water was running down the pane, blurring the faces on the screens into grotesque blobs of paint. Knowing the small speaker transmitting the sound to the outside wouldn't withstand the rain very long, he turned to go.
Hiding in the shadows of the houses, he trudged down a deserted back-street toward a ventilation shaft of the subway. With a terrified hiss, a stray cat disappeared behind some garbage cans on the tops of which the rain was drumming a monotonous song, telling him about everlasting solitude and never-ending yearning.
He often came to this place in order to watch TV programs in the window of Ron's Hi-Fi Shop. The sets were running all through the night, and only seldom was he disturbed by the sound of somebody's feet. Most of all he enjoyed reports about foreign countries and scientific documentaries, but sometimes he stayed a little longer to watch a quiz, astonished, how uneducated some people were, despite so many opportunities to learn and to acquire knowledge.
Thus he had also seen some film versions of literary works. He'd been fascinated by Shakespeare's Macbeth whereas Romeo and Juliet had only aroused blankness in him.
Back then... For now it suddenly didn't seem so impossible to him that somebody should take his life, out of love and grief...
The world Below was sleeping peacefully, and so he spontaneously determined to make a detour to the larder of Jacob Wells' community. Obviously they didn't object his stilling his hunger with their supplies; and he never took more than he needed to soothe his rumbling stomach and to survive.
On entering the larder his attention was drawn to a box near the doorway, and moving closer he realized the note that was fastened on it.
`Vincent' was written on the small piece of paper - nothing else.
He hesitated to reach for the food. Why should they give anything to him? Maybe it was only because he had just mused about Romeo and Juliet - but suddenly a terrifying thought flashed through his mind. And if ... the food was poisoned? If they tried to get rid of him this way? Paracelsus had always warned him that they would kill him one day...
Suspiciously he scrutinized a tin, and when he didn't find the slightest trace of manipulation he put it away and reached for a banana. He removed the skin, sniffed at the fruit and finally tried a small piece.
Tensely he watched for something to happen - and after some minutes, when he still hadn't noticed anything disconcerting, he ate the rest. He enjoyed the taste of the fruit though it was unfamiliar to him, for he had never touched food which, he supposed, was hard to obtain for Jacob Wells' community.
He still couldn't understand why he was suddenly given presents by them. They really had no cause for that. But perhaps he was too suspicious...
Some time later he sank down on his mattress and, his stomach full, soon fell asleep, though again he couldn't tear away his mind from Catherine. Oh, he wished he could break off the bond once and for all! The permanent concentration on ignoring her heartbeat and her feelings, was demanding and nerve-racking and besides brought the woman he was trying to forget back to his mind. He didn't know how long he would be able to bear this...
*
He wouldn't come this evening, either. One last time Catherine looked into the darkness of the corridor, then she climbed up the ladder, disappointed.
She liked her new job but was occupied more than she had expected, and as she was still getting used to her new area of work, she had always returned home very late in the evening. Nevertheless she had waited for Vincent every night. He claimed to feel her heartbeat and her emotions - if this was true he ought to know that she was waiting for him; that she was missing the feel of his arms around her...that she was longing for him...
Again she mused about his strange behavior on Sunday evening - and again she couldn't answer the question why he had walked off and left her standing there without any explanation. She really would have liked to ask him - but she didn't want to expose herself to danger once more. The tunnel-system was still too confusing to her. She couldn't find the way down on her own - and Vincent knew that. Besides... This time it was up to him to come to her.
*
When he left his cavern about noon Vincent wondered why he was still feeling so unrested though he had slept for such a long time. An inexplicable uneasiness deep inside him, drove him through the corridors until he found himself at the mirror pool.
Laughing and splashing sounded from the other side, and peeking out from behind a rock he caught sight of some children playing in the shallow end of the pool. Soft, ring-like waves were rolling over the water, blurring the reflection of the overcast sky.
Since he didn't want to disturb the children, he sat down at a place out of their sight. He hadn't seen any adults and therefore wondered briefly whether the kids were on their own, but then he listened to their merry voices and, gradually relaxing, didn't think about it any longer.
Closing his eyes, he leaned against the rock behind him. He derived a certain pleasure from the children's merriment and finally drifted into a soft daydream which led him to believe that Catherine was with him. Holding on to his shoulders, she was floating with him through the clear water; laughing, she pushed him under the surface - and, soft and naked, she snuggled up to his body the next instant. She was so close...so...
A frightened scream called him back to reality where he was still alone. The children were excitedly running back and forth, all of them shouting at the same time. He couldn't understand a word but inferred from their behavior that something must have happened.
They were too agitated to be frightened when he suddenly appeared from behind the rocks, and he quickly grasped a boy, who was obviously about to fetch help.
"What's the matter?"
The child stammered, "Samantha...caught in the cave...!" and broke away from him. He had heard enough to slip off only his cloak and boots and plunge into the water with all his clothes.
He knew the cave behind the fall. The only entrance was half under the surface of the water, a long, narrow tunnel which one could pass only by swimming. The ground inside, too, was permanently submerged; only along the walls some dry ledges could be found.
Usually the water in the cave wasn't deeper than about two foot, but he had been there often enough to know how rapidly the level rose when it rained heavily. He had no time to lose.
With powerful strokes he swam across the pool, straight toward the rushing water. As long as the girl remained inside the cave she was relatively safe; at worst, she would have to climb onto a rock and wait for help there. Yet it could possibly be a problem getting her out of her prison...
As he had expected, the tunnel was full with water up to the ceiling, and he hesitated. For him, it wouldn't be difficult to stay under water the full length of the tunnel, but he had no idea how long a little girl was able to hold her breath. If there had been an alternative he would have preferred to wait until the water had gone down - but it didn't look as if the torrent of rain was going to stop soon. The child couldn't stay in the cave so long. Apart from the fact she was most probably terribly scared, she was exposed to the danger of hypothermia, and could drown from exhaustion if she fell into the chilly water.
He gasped for breath when he reached the cave and came back up to the surface. In the faint light of the glittering crystals he quickly made out a small shape cowering on top of a rock. Wading up to her, he realized that the water was twice as deep as usual; it came up to his hips.
"Samantha?" he whispered as softly as he could, knowing that he would have to win her trust first. Yet when he came closer and recognized the girl he had threatened when he kidnapped Catherine, he gave a suppressed groan of disappointment. She wouldn't do what he told her...
"You...you..." Samantha's teeth were chattering so violently that she was hardly able to speak. "You...w-w-will t-t-take me...out of...h-h-here?
Vincent didn't show how much that took him by surprise. Slowly he extended his arms. "Come here, little one!"
Very gently he lifted the shivering child from the rock and held her close to his chest. "I'll take you out of here," he reassured her, "but I need your help." Looking at her small, pale face, he doubted that she would be able to co-operate. "We'll have to dive for a long distance. I'll hold you beneath my body, so you won't bump against the rocks."
She nodded hesitantly. Her lips had already turned blue; there wasn't much time left.
"You don't need to be afraid," he said. "Just hold your breath as long as we are under water. If you are desperate, exhale - but under no circumstances must you try to breathe in. Not even if you feel like suffocating!"
"I...I don't think I can do that...," the girl whispered. "Maybe I..."
"I know you can!" he cut in. "Move your arms if you want to, but keep your legs still. Mine are stronger..."
He waited until the child had nodded her agreement, then he waded with her to the passage.
He told her to inhale deeply, and when she held her breath, he pulled her under water.
He was only able to travel very slowly. Holding the girl close to his chest with one arm, he tried to concentrate his strength on the movement of his legs - but this was almost to no effect.
Halfway he realized that the girl was exhaling, and only some seconds later she lashed around in panic.
Damn! Soon she would try to breathe! He had to prevent her from inhaling water. Resolutely pressing his free hand against her face, he cupped her mouth and nose. The girl wriggled in panic, and he increased his hold on her because he suddenly feared that otherwise he would lose her.
His lungs, too, were aching; his chest felt like bursting. He forced himself to ignore it and to keep on swimming. Then, eventually, he reached the open water of the pool and like an arrow, darted upwards to the surface.
The child didn't move, not even when he shook her vigorously. From the embankment, helping hands reached for him and the girl and pulled them out of the water.
Somebody threw a blanket round his shoulders, and he leaned against the wall, gasping. His head was reeling, everything looked hazy to him, and only the thought of the girl kept him from falling. Through the mist before his eyes he watched one of the men easing Samantha down on the ground and patting her cheeks softly. Vincent staggered toward them and sank down beside the girl with a relieved groan, when he realized that she was breathing. She was unconscious but alive.
Shortly after Jacob Wells had started to examine her, Samantha opened her eyes. Her gaze briefly met Vincent's, then she was hurriedly carried away.
"Is she ... well?" Vincent pulled the blanket around his body more tightly; suddenly he was freezing in his soaked clothes.
"Yes, she is!" The older man nodded. "Mary will take care of her. We must keep her warm, but I'm sure that she didn't come to any harm. At worst she'll catch a cold. If you hadn't reacted so quickly..."
"It's all right...," Vincent murmured, fixing his eyes on the patches of his jeans. "I didn't think... Everybody else would have done the same."
"Oh, I've got to contradict you there!" Jacob Wells replied. "Not every man would take such a risk to save a life!" When he saw Vincent giving a start as if somebody had slapped him on his face, the old man hid a smile. He had chosen the word `man' intentionally. Only somebody who was treated as a human being would behave like a human being...
"The life of a child is something very precious," he went on. "We owe you a debt of gratitude!"
"You owe me nothing," Vincent muttered, his voice hoarse with embarrassment. He rose abruptly. "I was indebted to you. Take the child's life for mine..." He dropped the blanket and slipped into his boots. He was already about to leave when he heard Jacob Wells say, "Nevertheless... If you need anything I'll be there..."
*
The following night he spent tossing and turning, neither sleeping nor being awake. She was everywhere - he cradled her face with his hands, touched it with his lips; she smiled at him from somewhere above him, vanished and appeared again, smiling.
Then she was suddenly standing between columns of marble inside an ivory-coloured room, and he watched her brushing her hair. A tender breeze swelled delicate, white curtains, and her bangles with the face of the lion, shimmered reddish in the soft glow of the evening-sun.
He moved out of the shadows, wrapped his arms around her and held her close. Delightedly he inhaled the fragrant scent of her skin. Her hair smelled of summer...of sun...of her... She sank against his body, and he lost himself in a feeling of sheer bliss. But when he opened his eyes, he was only hugging his pillow.
Finally he could bear it no longer, and ran up to the park. It had stopped raining; the clouds had dispersed and the night was welcoming him with cool air, blinking stars and the mossy smell of autumn.
Without caution he ran through the park; only when he had reached the apartment-building did he stop. Then he was where every fiber of his body, every part of his soul wanted to be: on her balcony.
It was dark inside Catherine's apartment, but in the faint light of the restless city he made out her silhouette beneath the covers. For some time he stood there, silently watching over her while she slept, and when a sudden wave of overwhelming tenderness opened the bond briefly, he felt how tired she was.
Instantly, he closed his heart again, angry at himself because he had come here at all. She didn't need him. She didn't love him. Nobody could love him!
He looked at her one last time and made off in the night, wishing he could actually dissolve into darkness...could become darkness himself... Anything was better than to feel this way!
Back in his cavern, he paced around like an animal captured in a cage until he felt as though the walls would smother him if he remained here any longer. Close to panic, he dashed through the doorway and started to run. He couldn't bear these rocks any longer! He couldn't bear the darkness...the silence... Darkness and silence all around him, yelling at him, roaring in his ears and blinding his mind. And again Catherine's face appeared before him. He ran faster and faster, and faster still, until his breath burned in his lungs and his head felt like bursting.
From deep inside him he felt it rising - a mighty, black surge of rage and pain and hatred, the overpowering urge to destroy...to kill.
With his fists clenched he pounded at the rocks until blood dripped from his hands. Only then did he roar his pain and his despair at the bare walls.
She didn't love him...
*
When he regained his ability to think, his infallible sense of time, told him that morning had already broken. He was lying on the ground and didn't know whether he'd only fallen asleep or had been unconscious for some hours.
Slowly, he walked back to his cavern where he slumped down on his mattress, exhausted as he was each time he had to fight back the dark side of his being.
He fell asleep and this time nothing disturbed his dreams, in which Catherine was with him and he could hold and touch her. And when he woke late in the afternoon he knew that he had lost the fight.
Whether or not it was love - his feelings for her were too strong. Stronger than his will could ever be.
Taking a long, relaxing bath, he tried to recover his composure. He needed to talk to her - but how should he manage this without being too brusque or giving the impression of begging for her affection? On the one hand, pride and dignity suddenly seemed insignificant to him as never before - but he didn't want to make a fool of himself.
It was all so bewildering... He simply lacked experience...
After a long time spent brooding and finding himself no closer to a definite decision than before, he set out reluctantly to Jacob Wells' section...filled with a sense of self-annoyance, yet knowing he had no choice.
The old man had offered help - and he needed help. Perhaps Jacob Wells could give him a piece of advice.
Evening had just come, and when Vincent reached the inhabited tunnels he couldn't avoid meeting Jacob Wells' people from time to time. Surprisingly they didn't shrink back in fear but only kept a respectful distance from him. They looked at him with unconcealed interest; he sensed their eyes scrutinizing him, and yet he didn't feel as if he were being stared at.
The chamber where he had hoped he would find Jacob Wells was empty, so he stopped a boy who just appeared in a doorway.
"Father is in his study," the child answered his question. "I'll take you there if you want."
Surprised by the boy's spontaneous helpfulness, Vincent followed him, and some minutes later he stood in front of another entrance.
Subdued voices were coming through the doorway, and on entering Vincent recognized the room where he had brought Catherine, the night he had found her in the park.
Jacob Wells was not alone. A younger, dark-haired man was sitting opposite him at the table. They were playing chess.