Page:Jay Little - Maybe—Tomorrow.pdf/260

 He stumbled hurriedly on, tears mingling with rain-drops on his cheeks. He did not see the trees he passed. He was unaware of the rocks. He plunged on through the driving rain, his head bent, hearing old words in his heart. ‘You do remind me of Venus' … ‘I wouldn't hurt you' … and again Blake's bass rumble … ‘and I hope you have a lousy meal' … ‘Come on … love me.' His heart was breaking.

He tried to push the dripping hair from his eyes. It was raining as if the whole heavens had opened and the rain was the tears of millions of angels who understood and were sorry for him. Sorry they could not help him find his way.

He was tired and his legs heavy. He had passed over the rocks and was now on a bridge. Its loose planks tore at him savagely, worrying his legs. It pickcd up needles of slush and flung them blindingly around his feet. It caught at his shoes and snatchcd at his trousers so that his head reeled dizzily and he was aware that he was scared … Lost … lost in a downpour of cold glass arrows. The terror became panic, cutting and overpowering.

There were moments when he thought he could hear Blake running after him, calling in a deep rich voice for him to come back. But that too could not be for Blake had left by now and he was alone. Instead of slowing down, he ran faster, over the rocks and puddles, into the blackness he staggered; past weird sounds reaching out trying to stop him, clutching and grabbing. He moaned because he was breathless, because even though he wanted to die he was afraid of death, afraid of drowning in that endless crevice beneath the loose planks.

"Gay … Gay … Wait!"

He heard the voice and it was God-sent. It rang in his ears and he wanted to wait, but the nothingness in front urged him on. He glanced back and in so doing, collapsed. He did not try to rise but lay in the dirty slush, his head against his hands that touched rough gravel beneath them. Oh, if the slush were only deeper. Why doesn't it cover me completely? he cried inside … end all this misery of forever running away.

"Gay," cried Blake, his big hands tearing the soaked body from the guttered road. Sobbing, he sat down in the shallows and cradled