Read Online Spark of Life by Erich Maria Remarque - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Erich Maria Remarque
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“Lohmann?”
Something rustled. “Is Berger there, too?” asked Lohmann.
“No.”
“Get him.”
“What for?”
“Get him!”
509 groped his way back. Curses followed him. He trod on bodies lying in the corridors. Someone bit him in the calf. 509 beat on the unknown head until the teeth let go.
After a few minutes he returned with Berger. “Here we are. What is it?”
“Here!” Lohmann stretched out his arm.
“What?” asked 509.
“Put your hand under mine. Flat. Careful.”
509 felt Lohmann’s thin fist. It was as dry as a lizard’s skin. Slowly it opened. Something small and heavy fell into 509’s hand. “Got it?”
“Yes. What is it? Is it—?”
“Yes,” whispered Lohmann. “My tooth.”
“What?” Berger shuffled nearer. “Who did it?”
Lohmann began to chuckle. It was an almost soundless, ghostlike chuckle. “I did.”
“You? How?”
They felt the satisfaction of the dying man. He seemed childish and proud and deeply reassured. “Nail. Two hours. Small iron nail. Found it and bored the tooth loose with it.”
“Where’s the nail?”
Lohmann reached out beside him and handed it to Berger. Berger held it up to the window and then fingered it. “Filth and rust. Did it bleed?”
Lohmann chuckled again. “Berger,” he said, “I can risk blood poisoning.”
“Wait.” Berger searched his pocket. “Has anyone a match?”
Matches were precious. “Not me,” answered 509.
“Here,” said someone from the center bunk.
Berger struck the box. The match flared up. Berger and 509 had kept their eyes closed so as not to be blinded. This way they could see for several seconds longer. “Open your mouth,” said Berger.
Lohmann stared at him. “Don’t be foolish,” he whispered. “Sell the gold.”
“Open your mouth.”
Across Lohmann’s face flitted something that could have been meant as a smile. “Let me alone. Good to have seen you once more in the light.”
“I’m going to put iodine on it. I’ll get the bottle.”
Berger gave 509 the match and groped towards his bunk. “Lights out!” someone squawked.
“Shut up!” answered the man who had produced the match.
“Lights out!” squawked the other voice again. “D’you want the guards to mow us down?”
509 stood in such a way that his bent body was between the wall and the match. The man in the center bunk held his blanket against the window while 509 protected the little flame sideways with his jacket. Lohmann’s eyes were very clear. They were too clear. 509 glanced at the stub of match that had not yet burned out, and then at Lohmann, and he thought how he had known Lohmann for seven years and he knew this was the last time that he would see him alive. He had seen too many such faces not to know it.
He felt the heat of the flame on his fingers, but he held it till he could no longer stand it. He heard Berger return. Then darkness was suddenly there, as though he had been struck blind. “Got another match?” he asked the man in the center bunk.
“Here—” The man gave him another. “The last one.”
The last one, thought 509. Fifteen seconds of light. Fifteen seconds for the forty-five years that still were called Lohmann. The last ones.
The little flickering circle. “Lights out, damn it! Knock the light out of his hand.”
“Idiot! No swine can see anything!”
509 held the match lower. Berger stood close to him, the bottle of iodine in his hand. “Open your mouth—”
He stopped. Now he too saw Lohmann clearly. There had been no point in getting the iodine. He had really fetched it only in order to be doing something. He put the bottle slowly into his pocket. Lohmann looked calmly at him without blinking. 509 glanced away. He opened his hand and saw gleaming in it the littlelump of gold. Then he glanced again at Lohmann. The flame scorched his fingers. From the side a shadow struck at his arm. The light went out.
“Good night, Lohmann,” said 509.
“I’ll be back again
Something rustled. “Is Berger there, too?” asked Lohmann.
“No.”
“Get him.”
“What for?”
“Get him!”
509 groped his way back. Curses followed him. He trod on bodies lying in the corridors. Someone bit him in the calf. 509 beat on the unknown head until the teeth let go.
After a few minutes he returned with Berger. “Here we are. What is it?”
“Here!” Lohmann stretched out his arm.
“What?” asked 509.
“Put your hand under mine. Flat. Careful.”
509 felt Lohmann’s thin fist. It was as dry as a lizard’s skin. Slowly it opened. Something small and heavy fell into 509’s hand. “Got it?”
“Yes. What is it? Is it—?”
“Yes,” whispered Lohmann. “My tooth.”
“What?” Berger shuffled nearer. “Who did it?”
Lohmann began to chuckle. It was an almost soundless, ghostlike chuckle. “I did.”
“You? How?”
They felt the satisfaction of the dying man. He seemed childish and proud and deeply reassured. “Nail. Two hours. Small iron nail. Found it and bored the tooth loose with it.”
“Where’s the nail?”
Lohmann reached out beside him and handed it to Berger. Berger held it up to the window and then fingered it. “Filth and rust. Did it bleed?”
Lohmann chuckled again. “Berger,” he said, “I can risk blood poisoning.”
“Wait.” Berger searched his pocket. “Has anyone a match?”
Matches were precious. “Not me,” answered 509.
“Here,” said someone from the center bunk.
Berger struck the box. The match flared up. Berger and 509 had kept their eyes closed so as not to be blinded. This way they could see for several seconds longer. “Open your mouth,” said Berger.
Lohmann stared at him. “Don’t be foolish,” he whispered. “Sell the gold.”
“Open your mouth.”
Across Lohmann’s face flitted something that could have been meant as a smile. “Let me alone. Good to have seen you once more in the light.”
“I’m going to put iodine on it. I’ll get the bottle.”
Berger gave 509 the match and groped towards his bunk. “Lights out!” someone squawked.
“Shut up!” answered the man who had produced the match.
“Lights out!” squawked the other voice again. “D’you want the guards to mow us down?”
509 stood in such a way that his bent body was between the wall and the match. The man in the center bunk held his blanket against the window while 509 protected the little flame sideways with his jacket. Lohmann’s eyes were very clear. They were too clear. 509 glanced at the stub of match that had not yet burned out, and then at Lohmann, and he thought how he had known Lohmann for seven years and he knew this was the last time that he would see him alive. He had seen too many such faces not to know it.
He felt the heat of the flame on his fingers, but he held it till he could no longer stand it. He heard Berger return. Then darkness was suddenly there, as though he had been struck blind. “Got another match?” he asked the man in the center bunk.
“Here—” The man gave him another. “The last one.”
The last one, thought 509. Fifteen seconds of light. Fifteen seconds for the forty-five years that still were called Lohmann. The last ones.
The little flickering circle. “Lights out, damn it! Knock the light out of his hand.”
“Idiot! No swine can see anything!”
509 held the match lower. Berger stood close to him, the bottle of iodine in his hand. “Open your mouth—”
He stopped. Now he too saw Lohmann clearly. There had been no point in getting the iodine. He had really fetched it only in order to be doing something. He put the bottle slowly into his pocket. Lohmann looked calmly at him without blinking. 509 glanced away. He opened his hand and saw gleaming in it the littlelump of gold. Then he glanced again at Lohmann. The flame scorched his fingers. From the side a shadow struck at his arm. The light went out.
“Good night, Lohmann,” said 509.
“I’ll be back again
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