I put my hand on his shoulder. Okay, I said. Take it easy.
That filthy sonofabitch, he said loudly.
The bartender tapped me on the arm. You better get him out of here, he said. He’s not hurt now, but he will be if he stays around.
Can we get a cab? I asked.
He nodded. I’ll get you a car. He stepped back and yelled across the crowd. Somebody answered and he pointed at me.
Chenault! Yeamon shouted, trying to get up off the ground.
I shoved him back down, knowing that the moment he got up we’d have another fight. I looked up at the bartender. Where’s the girl? I said. What happened to her?
He smiled faintly. She enjoyed herself?
I realized then that we were going to be sent off without Chenault. Where is she? I said too loudly, trying to keep the panic out of my voice.
A stranger stepped up to me and snarled, Man, you better get out.
I shuffled nervously in the dirt, looking back at the bartender, who seemed to be in charge. He smiled maliciously, pointing behind me. I turned and saw a car coming slowly through the crowd. Here’s your cab, he said. I’ll get your friend. He stepped over to Yeamon and jerked him to his feet. Big man go to town, he said with a grin. Leave little girl here.
Yeamon stiffened and began to shout You bastards! He swung savagely at the bartender, who dodged easily and laughed while four men shoved Yeamon into the car. They shoved me in after him, and I leaned out the window to yell at the bartender: I’ll be back with the police — that girl better be all right. Suddenly I felt an awful jolt on the side of my face, and I drew back just in time to let the second punch go flying past my nose. Without quite knowing what I was doing, I rolled up the window and fell back on the seat I heard them all laughing as we started down the hill.
Sixteen
All I could think about was getting the police, but the driver of the car refused to take us to the station or even tell us where it was. Better forget it, he said quietly. Everybody mind his own business. He let us out in the middle of town and said it would be all right if we gave him two dollars to pay for the gas. I grumbled bitterly and gave it to him, but Yeamon refused to get out of the car. He kept insisting that we were going back up the hill to get Chenault.
Come on, I said, tugging at his arm. We’ll get the cops. They’ll take us up. Finally I got him out and the car pulled away.
We found the police station, but there was nobody in it. The lights were on and we went in to wait. Yeamon passed out on a bench and I was so groggy that I could barely keep my eyes open. After about an hour I decided we’d be better off looking for a cop in the streets. I woke Yeamon up and we started down toward the bars. The carnival was dissipating now and the streets were full of drunks, mostly tourists and Puerto Ricans. Little knots of people wandered from bar to bar, passing bodies in doorways, and a few just sprawled on the sidewalk. It was almost four, but the bars were still full of people. It looked like the town had been bombed. There was no sign of a cop anywhere, and by this time we were both ready to fall down from exhaustion. Finally we gave up and took a cab out to Lindbergh Beach, where we dragged ourselves over the fence and fell down in the sand to sleep.
Sometime during the night it started raining and when I woke up I was soaking wet I thought it was dawn, but when I looked at my watch it said nine o’clock. My head felt swollen to twice its normal size and there was a big, painful bump in front of my right ear. I took off my clothes and went into the bay for a swim, but it made me feel worse instead of better. The morning was cold and dreary, and a light rain peppered the water. I sat on the raft for a while and thought about the night before. The more I remembered, the more depressed I became, and I dreaded the idea of going back into town to look for Chenault. At that point I didn’t really care if she lived or died. All I wanted was to walk across the road and get on a plane for San Juan, leaving Yeamon asleep on the beach and hoping I’d never see either one of them again.