Chapter 4 Chapter One

"You are my friend, aren't you?" asked the big one.His voice was as sad as a circular saw sawing through a pine knot. "What does a big guy like you need friends for?" the little man quipped. "I'm asking you seriously." The big man continued to ask. He was a milky white albino giant with pink eyes, beaten lips, battered ears distorted and blooming, and a thick head of short, cream-colored curly hair.He was wearing a white T-shirt, greasy black trousers tied with a hemp rope, and a pair of blue sneakers on his feet. The little man put on a hypocritical expression of concern.He rolled up his sleeves and looked at the luminous surface.At one twenty-two in the morning, he was relieved not to be in such a hurry.

He is a hunchback with a sallow complexion, and his complexion is darker than that of an albino.On the ghostly face, the black eyes with big dots can't fix on anything in sight.But he was wearing an expensive hand-stitched blue linen suit, satin shoes, and a black Panama hat with a dark orange strap. His sly eyes flashed across the knots in the big man's belly, which was just at eye level.The big one was four times his size, but he wasn't afraid.To him, the big guy was just another fool. "You know I'm your friend, bro. I'm old Jack, your coolest friend." He said in a whispered gasp.

The big man's white, battered face was twisted into a grimace, and his eyes scanned the dimly lit neighborhood on Riverside Drive. On one side was the entire wall of a large black building. It was so dark that no window with lights could be seen.On the other side is a park.He could make out the outlines of trees and benches, but smelled only flowers and freshly watered grass.A block away is the tomb of Grant, a stubby black man. He didn't care about any of this. The terrain of the park slopes towards the West End Highway.He saw the scattered headlights of cars heading north toward Westchester in the middle of the night.A little further down the road was the Hudson River, gleaming faintly in the dark.Across a mile of water is the New Jersey shore.Now I'm afraid he's only worried about the Roman wall.

He rested his big, fat palm on the dwarf's bony little shoulder, and the dwarf's back seemed to bend. "Don't fuck with me," he said. "I'm not talking about cool friends, you can be everyone's cool friend. I mean, are you my real, real friend?" The little man squirmed restlessly under the heavy hand of the big man.The thief's eyes wandered up along the burly white arms, and landed on the big, thick white neck.He suddenly realized that he was alone with an imbecile giant on a desolate black street. "Listen, Pinkie, hasn't Jack been your friend all along?" he breathed a little sincerity into his breathless whisper.

The big man blinked his eyes like a fool, unresponsive to the sudden appearance of the ghost.The scars covering the pink eyes moved like restless sea worms.His blooming and deformed ears twitched uncontrollably, his scarred thick lips were pursed, and he looked sad.Rows of gold braces shone like lighthouses of light and shade. "I don't mean the 'always your friend' kind of friend." He grumbled angrily, unconsciously grabbing the little man's shoulders harder. The little man recoiled in pain.He glanced up at the anxious face of the larger one, but turned away.For a while, his eyes stopped on the twenty-two-story riverside church tower standing behind the big man in the night.He was starting to worry.

"I mean, are you a friend who will share weal and woe with me?" The big man still pursued closely, "Are you a friend who will accompany me through thick and thin?" There was the faint sound of a fire engine in the distance. The little man heard it... through fire and water... and he was beginning to understand what the big man meant.He struggled to break free from the big man's grasp. "Let go of me, idiot!" he yelled. "I have to get away." But the big one clung to it. "You can't slip now. You've got to stay and speak for me, friend, and you've got to tell them for me."

"What are you talking to, you idiot?" "Whoever is, it's the firefighters. You have to tell them that my father is about to be robbed and murdered." "Shit!" said the short man, trying to push the big man's hand off his shoulder. "Nothing happened to Gus, you fucking idiot!" But the big one just held on tighter; his forefinger and thumb locked the short one's neck. The short man writhed like a pig in a sack and began to panic; his round, black eyes bulged out of their sockets.And beat the big, burly torso with his thin fists. "Let go of me, you fucking idiot!" he screamed. "Didn't you hear the sirens? Are you deaf? We can't be seen hanging out in this high street together. We're bound to get caught, I've been caught three times and this time I'm going to be jailed for life .”

The big one leaned forward and put his face in front of the short one.The scars on his fuzzy white face are like snakes dancing in the heat, as if they are about to jump out.His body trembled, his nostrils flared, and his eyes, bright as pink coral, looked straight into the dwarf's small black eyes. "That's why I asked if you were my friend who went through fire and water," he whispered in a very urgent whisper. The serenity on the outskirts of Riverside Drive was shattered by piercing noises as fire trucks and patrol cars flooded the street. The little man stopped beating the big man's body in vain, and began to frantically take out a small square paper bag from his pocket, and quickly ate it.He stuffed them into his mouth one by one, chewing and swallowing desperately.Then, he choked, and his face started to turn purple.

At this moment, firefighters jumped out of the unstopped fire truck and rushed towards the church wielding axes.Some drove straight for the gate, into the dark, 215-foot-high nave congregation, looking for burning logs to chop.Sometimes they tripped over pews or bumped into pillars; others ran around the sides of the church, looking for other entrances. The fire chief was already out into the street, shouting orders with a megaphone. A sexton came out of the dark alcove next to the huge door. Pointing at the albino giant, he accused, "That man lied about the fire alarm!" Although the captain saw his person, he didn't hear what he was talking about.

"Get that civilian out of the danger zone!" he yelled. Two patrolmen, guarding against troublesome situations, rushed forward and grabbed the sexton in one fell swoop. "Okay, buddy, back off!" one of them ordered. "I was trying to tell you," said the sexton through gritted teeth, "that it was the big man over there who rang the fire alarm." The policeman let go of the sexton, turned to the big man and asked, "What's going on? Why are you pinching that short man?" The questioner asked sternly. "He's my friend," cried the big one.

The policeman blushed. The little dwarf's throat gurgled, as if he had choked, and his eyes popped out. The policeman looked back and forth between the two of them, trying to decide who to beat.But both guys seem to be suspicious, and he can't make a choice. "Which one of you called the fire?" he asked. "It's him." The secretary said, pointing to the big one. The policeman looked at the big man and decided to call the fire chief. "We've got the guy who called the fire, Captain." The fire chief replied: "Ask him where the fire broke out?" "Fire?" The big man looked like he didn't know what the fire was. "Fire!" the sexton repeated angrily. "There's no fire at all! That's what I've been trying to tell you." The two policemen looked at each other.Such a large group of fire trucks arrived, but there was no fire.One of them suddenly remembered the Louis Armstrong song: "All the meat, but no potatoes—" However, the fire chief was furious.He clenched his hands into fists and walked towards the big one. "Did you ring the alarm?" He raised his jaw and asked viciously. The big man let go of the little man's hand, and said, "Tell them, Jack." The shorty tried to escape, but was grabbed by the collar by a policeman. "I saw him ring the bell with my own eyes," said the sexton. The captain turned to him with a whoosh. "Then why didn't you stop him? Do you know how much it costs the city to dispatch these fire trucks?" "Hell, look at him," the sexton replied, "would you stop him if you were me?" Everyone stared at him, of course they understood what the secretary meant.A policeman shone a flashlight on the big man's face to get a better look.He saw Negro features in that white face and a head of white hair.He had never seen a black man with albinism.This took him by surprise. "What the hell are you?" he asked. "I'm his friend," said the big man, pointing to the short man who was trying to break away from the policeman. The captain opened his eyes wide and exclaimed, "My God, he's a black man!" "Oh, hell!" said the first cop, "I was just about to say that this white guy looks really fucking weird." While everyone was distracted, the little man seized the opportunity to break free from the grip of another policeman.He jumped behind the fire chief's car and was about to flee across the street. A screech of brakes and a sideways swerve of a speeding car saved him from being run over. Two tall black men got out of the car on both sides of the front seat at the same time.Wearing battered black felt hats and crumpled alpaca black suits, they look like dicks and stride out into the street unexpectedly. They circled in front of their little black car and rounded up the fleeing runt. "Coffin Bucket" Ed reached out and grabbed a bony arm. He felt that this arm might break in his hands, so he spun the hunchback around sharply. "It's Jack," said "Gravedigger" Johns. "Look at his face," Ed "Coffin Bucket" said. "He's still eating," "Gravedigger" Johns noted. "But I haven't digested it yet." "Coffin Bucket" Ed concluded, and clasped the dwarf's hands behind his back. "Gravedigger" Jones punched the dwarf in the stomach. The little man immediately bent over and began to vomit. "Gravedigger" Jones took out a handkerchief and spread it on the ground, and let the little man spit on it. Half-chewed paper bags were spit out, mixed with the remains of boiled beef tongue and pickled cucumbers. The little man suddenly fainted. Ed "Coffin Bucket" moved him to the edge of the street and laid him down on the grass. "Gravedigger" Jones carefully folded the handkerchief wrapped in vomit, and then took out a thick brown paper bag from the leather-lined side pocket of the jacket, and put the handkerchief in it. They left the dwarf lying on the ground, and came to inquire what commotion was going on before them. The big man said to the fire chief, "Jack can tell you, sir. He's a friend of mine." "Jack can't talk," said "Gravedigger" Johns.The big man was dumbfounded. "He's retarded," said a white policeman. At this time, the big man was surrounded by several policemen and a group of firefighters. "Retarded or not, he has to answer my questions," said the captain, looking bloodshot into the big pink eyes. "Why did you ring the fire alarm, man?" Sweat trickled down the big man's cheeks like tears. "Sir, I didn't mean to cause these things," he whined. "I just wanted someone to stop them from robbing and murdering my father." "Gravedigger" Johns and "Coffin Bucket" Ed's nerves tensed. "Where?" asked "Gravedigger" Johns. "He's the manager of the third apartment on the street." The secretary volunteered to answer for him. "He's my father," said the big one. "You all shut up and let me ask questions," the fire chief said angrily.He looked up at the big guy.Standing over six feet tall, he only got a big snub nose. "I want to know why you came here and ring the fire alarm bell specially set up by the Riverside Church?" He continued to ask, "You are not so stupid as to not know that the special fire alarm bell is specially set up for this famous church." Bar?" "He told you," Ed "Coffin Bucket" said. The fire chief ignored him.He gritted his teeth tightly, twisting even the muscles in his veined jaw. "Why don't you call the police? Why don't you ring the normal alarm? Why don't you ring the other fire alarms? Why don't you just call for help?" The big man looked puzzled.The flat white face began to twitch, and the pink tongue licked the bloodless lips. "Because it's the closest," he said. "Where is the closest?" the fire chief asked gruffly. "Obviously the closest place to where he lived," replied "Gravedigger" Jones. "It's none of your business!" the fire chief yelled. "Don't interfere." "If there's a murder or a robbery, it's none of our business," replied "Gravedigger" Jones. "You believe what this idiot said?" a white police officer asked with contempt. "It won't take long to find out," Ed "Coffin Bucket" said. "First of all, I need to find out why he rings the alarm and brings all these fire engines here," the fire chief said. He reached forward with his left hand, trying to get a firm grip on the big guy, but there was nowhere to grab it.The big man's T-shirt was too thin, and his sweaty white skin was too slippery.So the fire chief had to keep his palms up, as if he was pushing against the giant's chest. "Who intends to rob your father?" "Gravedigger" Johns asked quickly. "An African and my stepmother; they ganged up on him," whimpered the big one. The fire chief slapped him on the chest. "But you know very well that there was no fire at all." The big man looked around for help, only to find himself alone. "Uh, no, sir, I don't know for sure if there was a fire," he denied.After looking at the face of the fire chief, he admitted again: "However, I didn't see any signs of fire." This time, the fire chief was furious.He hit the big man's stomach hard, but his fist bounced back like a truck tire. The big man looked shocked. "There's no need to do that," Ed "Coffin Bucket" said. "He will." The fire chief ignored it. "Catch him, brothers," he said. A fireman grabbed the big man's right arm, and the fire chief threw a left hook into his rubber-hard stomach. With a grunt, the big man stretched out his left hand and grabbed the fire chief by the throat. "Hey, don't be impulsive!" shouted "Gravedigger" Johns. "Don't kill yourself." "Don't meddle," a white police officer warned, drawing his police revolver. The captain's eyeballs protruded, and his purple tongue stuck out. A fireman hit the big man in the back with the back of his axe, and the big man let out a wet cough.Another fireman raised his axe. "Gravedigger" Jones stopped and grabbed the handle of the ax and drew his . 38, nickel-plated long-barreled revolver.He flicked the barrel of the gun and hit the back of the big man's hand hard. The sharp pain penetrated the big man's hand and hit the fire chief's Adam's apple. The captain was dizzy for a while. The big man let go of his hand, and the captain fell down. Seeing the captain landed on the ground ignited the anger of the firefighters. The firefighters snatched the ax from "Gravedigger" Johns and made a gesture to strike him. On the other side, "Coffin Bucket" Ed's revolver glowed in the dim light, and he warned: "Don't act rashly, don't get carried away and do stupid things." The fireman swung his ax and hit the big man sideways on the nape of the neck. Howling like an enraged stallion, the big one began to fight back.He elbowed the firefighter to his right under the jaw, knocking him unconscious.Although he couldn't make a fist with his left hand, he swung his left arm wildly, knocking down two firemen with axes. The firefighters held their axes upside down and began pounding at him with the hickory handles.Some of the well-targeted blows left black and blue bruises on the big man's sensitive white skin.Under the attack of the big man's right fist, the firefighters fell one after another, piled up, and it seemed like a massacre.But there were still other players approaching, the big man showed no sign of showing weakness, but the bruises on his body gradually increased. The sexton stood by, wringing his hands and pleading with the enraged firefighters. "Calm down, gentlemen, forgiveness comes first." "Gravedigger" Johns and "Coffin Bucket" Ed are doing their best to stop the commotion. "Everyone, don't be impulsive." "Gravedigger" Johns reiterated again. Ed "Coffin Bucket" urged: "Let the police arrest him." But their pleas were in vain. A firefighter hit the big man in the shin, the big man fell to his knees, and the firefighters swarmed up and tried to clasp his arms behind his back.But the muscles under the slippery and bruised skin were as hard as a rock, and the fingers couldn't grasp it at all.It was like trying to catch a greased pig at a state produce fair. Pushing himself up on his hands and knees, the big man jumped to his feet, shaking the fireman off the ground like a dog throwing water.He put his head down and ran, struggling through the rain of fists. "That son of a bitch is inhuman," one firefighter complained. He crossed the sidewalk and onto the lawn, placing his foot on the unconscious midriff.A few mouthfuls of filth came out of Jack's mouth, but no one noticed. With a thrust of his hand, he jumped over the hood of the fire truck, ahead of his pursuers. "Stop him, he's running away," a white policeman yelled. "Gravedigger" Johns and "Coffin Bucket" Ed have already moved to the street to join the hunt.They stopped the big guy. The big man stopped as if sliding on his heels.All of a sudden, he stood there like a sleepy beast, with his back to the engine of the fire engine, looking around to find a way out.His bruised, bloodied face looked bewildered, like a bull being beaten by a matador. "Are we arresting him?" Ed "Coffin Bucket" asked. "Damn it, let him go if he can," said "Gravedigger" Jones. So the two stepped aside to let the big one pass. Police and firefighters approached from both ends of the fire truck.Police cars blocked the street diagonally, while patrol cars parked on both sides. The big guy hopped on the hood of the little black sedan, his sneakers stuck firmly to the hood.He jumped again, onto the roof of the black and white patrol car.The blinding spotlights of the fire trucks hit him once—his grotesque figure as he fled in panic was both tense and frightening. As if in reflex action, a policeman raises his police revolver and takes aim without thinking.Quick and then, and with a seemingly identical movement from the other direction, Ed "Coffin Bucket" hit the policeman's arm upward with the nickel-plated long barrel of his revolver.Police pistols blare.At the same time, the big figure seemed to fly from the roof of the patrol car, and then fell into the leaves of the park. For a moment, everyone was awakened by the gunshot and the sight of the big man falling to the ground.There was only one thought on everyone's mind—that the policeman hit him.Although everyone had different reactions, they all fell into a brief silence.Ed "Coffin Bucket" then said to the officer who shot, "You can't shoot someone because they lied about the fire." The cop was only trying to hit the big man's arm, but Ed "Coffin Bucket"'s accusation pissed him off. "Fuck you, he just farted on you, and you just did him." He countered the accusation. "Coffin Bucket" Ed's scarred face twitched with rage.In his career, it was one thing that hit him immediately. "That's a goddamn lie!" he yelled, and slashed the barrel of the gun hard, hitting the white policeman in the head. "Gravedigger" Johns blocked the blow in time, and immediately turned "Coffin Bucket" Ed's body around. "Damn it, Ed, calm down, man!" he said. "That was just a joke." The white policeman was forcibly pulled over by two other uniformed colleagues. "These two nigger bastards are crazy," he murmured. Ed "Coffin Bucket" let "Gravedigger" Johns drag him away, but said, "That's not a joke to me." "Gravedigger" Johns knew there was no point in explaining that Ed "Coffin Bucket" had shot a boy who tried to throw a perfume bottle in his face.At the time he thought the kid wanted to throw acid; and his face had been disfigured by acid.Everyone in the department knew about it, but some white cops just twisted the facts to piss off Ed "Coffin Bucket." The commotion lasted no more than a minute, but it had already given the big man a chance to escape.The park descends steeply from the manicured, manicured perimeter bordering the Riverside Drive, past the rocky undergrowth, to the iron fence that borders the New York Central freight line and the six-lane western highway elevated platform. A policeman heard the big man rustling through the bushes and shouted, "He's rushing to the river!" "Let them go," said "Gravedigger" Jones sarcastically. "I'm out of their way," Ed "Coffin Bucket" said. "Anyway, he's already ahead, and they won't be able to catch him." "Gravedigger" Jones took off his heavy felt hat and ran his hands through his short, sweaty curly hair. The two looked at each other without saying a word, which was a tacit understanding cultivated by their long-term partners. "Do you think there is something strange?" "Gravedigger" Johns asked. "We'd better check it out. It would be terrible if someone was killed during the farce just now." "Then there will be a good show." Ed "Coffin Bucket" walked over and looked down at the unconscious little man.He bent down to feel for his pulse. "What about our friend Jack?" "He's not going to die," said "Gravedigger" Johns. "Let's go. Maybe that idiot Pinky is right."