“I’ll give you two to one I wouldn’t-for fifty, say.”
“If I win, how do I collect?”
“You’re a cute one, Mr. Knowles. But look-I’ve got two or three inches of fat padding me. I won’t bleed much-a strawberry mark, no more.”
Knowles shook his head. “It’s not necessary. If we keep quiet, there’s air enough here for several days.”
“It’s not the air, Mr. Knowles. Noticed it’s getting chilly?”
I had noticed, but hadn’t thought about it. In my misery and funk being cold didn’t seem anything more than appropriate. Now I thought about it. When we lost the power line, we lost the heaters, too. It would keep getting colder and colder … and colder.
Mr. Knowles saw it, too. “Okay, Fats. Let’s get on with it.”
I sat on the suit while Konski got ready. After he got his pants off he snagged one of the tag-alongs, burst it, and smeared the sticky insides on his right buttock. Then he turned to me. “Okay, kid-up off the nest.” We made the swap-over fast, without losing much air, though the leak hissed angrily. “Comfortable as an easy chair, folks.” He grinned.
Knowles hurried into the suit and left, taking the light with him. We were in darkness again.
After a while, I heard Konski’s voice. “There a game we can play in the dark, Jack. You play chess?”
“Why, yes-play at it, that is.”
“A good game. Used to play it in the decompression chamber when I was working under the Hudson. What do you say to twenty on a side, just to make it fun?”
“Uh? Well, all right.” He could have made it a thousand; I didn’t care.
“Fine. King’s pawn to king three.”
“Uh-king’s pawn to king’s four.”
“Conventional, aren’t you? Puts me in mind of a girl I knew in Hoboken–” What he told about her bad nothing to do with chess, although it did prove she was conventional, in a manner of speaking. “King’s bishop to queen’s bishop four. Remind me to tell you about her sister, too. Seems she hadn’t always been a redhead, but she wanted people to think so. So she-sorry. Go ahead with your move.”
I tried to think but my head was spinning. “Queen’s pawn to queen three.”
“Queen to king’s bishop three. Anyhow, she–” He went on in great detail. It wasn’t new and I doubt if it ever happened to him, but it cheered me up. I actually smiled, there in the dark. “It’s your move,” he added.
“Oh.” I couldn’t remember the board. I decided to get ready to castle, always fairly safe in the early game. “Queen’s knight to queen’s bishop three.”
“Queen advances to capture your king’s bishop’s pawn-checkmate. You owe me twenty, Jack.”
“Huh? Why that can’t be!”
“Want to run over the moves?” He checked them off.
I managed to visualize them, then said, “Why, I’ll be a dirty name! You hooked me with a fool’s mate!”
He chuckled. “You should have kept your eye on my queen instead of on the redhead.”
I laughed out loud. “Know any more stories?”
“Sure.” He told another. But when I urged him to go on, he said, “I think I’ll just rest a little while, Jack.”
I got up. “You all right, Fats?” He didn’t answer; I felt my way over to him in the dark. His face was cold and he didn’t speak when I touched him. I could hear his heart faintly when I pressed an ear to his chest, but his hands and feet were like ice.
I had to pull him loose; he was frozen to the spot. I could feel the ice, though I knew it must be blood. I started to try to revive him by rubbing him, but the hissing of the leak brought me up short. I tore off my own trousers, had a panicky time before I found the exact spot in the dark, and sat down on it, with my right buttock pressed firmly against the opening.
It grabbed me like a suction cup, icy cold. Then it was fire spreading through my flesh. After a time I couldn’t feel anything at all, except a dull ache and coldness.