Vincent falls painfully in the wheelbarrow stairs, banging against the walls and sometimes leaving a few steps away. It complained about the heaviness of the tool, and Xavier asked if he prefers to carry the corpse. Of course the mustachioed find nothing to say about it.
I readjusted my grip on the feet of Joell. Xavier, who goes in reverse by holding the arm of the road, asked me to go slower if I do not want to break the mouth. The maneuver is difficult because we avoid both looking at the corpse, and the gaping wound that takes the place of genitals.
Vincent made an unbelievable mess with the wheelbarrow. We're only halfway there and it's a miracle that no neighbor does is still risky to leave home.
I press a little too much pace, and brings me closer unwittingly Xavier. The buttocks of the body come hit the stairs, and my partner reprimand. Vincent noted that there is not the only one that makes noise.
I feel like we're forever to get down. The body weighs a ton, and face Xavier is closed. We could not sleep that night.
Once in the lobby, we install the castrated corpse in a wheelbarrow, and resume our breath a few seconds. The tile exudes a freshness reassuring, but we know that the day will be stifling. We enjoy this time because it's probably best that we live today.
Vincent takes out his revolver and goes before us in the street to clear the track. Xavier and I follow him, each carrying a handle of the wheelbarrow. Outside the day is just rising, and already the heat is unpleasant.
must experience the bad days, there was no choice. We start in the streets of Paris in watching every noise suspicious, frightened by the idea of being caught and go for idiots. Thus begins the saga of the body without cock.
It continues in the streets, that our protagonists borrow to be discreet. They crossed a few rats attracted by the piles of garbage littering the sidewalks. Our three friends traveling in the shade, and try to breathe as little as possible.
The epic takes a different turn when they arrive on a boulevard on which they did not come for weeks. Several corpses are waiting for them, more or less mutilated, as on a battlefield abandoned by soldiers who do not bother to bury their dead. Some facades of buildings are blackened, and almost all the doors are broken.
-It approaches the center, attempts to explain one of the friends.
And they push their journey a little farther, with less apprehension. Because basically, they transport the corpse seems less exceptional now.
Every street in the devastated city back to the nostalgia of a bygone era: The street the first kiss with that Martine, bar one evening where Vincent had fought with a stranger ...
The building held by the revolutionaries.
The epic pauses, while we look at the facade torn with bullet marks and blood. I saw this building that once, at night, but I remembered it was intact. I ask Xavier's eyes, and he nods nervously, biting his lip. He borrowed the gun from Vincent, who reluctantly gives in to him, and enters through a hole in the wall of the ground floor. Probably hole rocket.
I sit on the wheelbarrow without leaving the front of the eyes, expecting perhaps to see Xavier passed through a window. Vincent lights two cigarettes and gives me one, then laughs at me when I say I am almost ready to quit again.
-You talk about it as if it was a desire that I respected, reprimand me there.
The sun is a little more aggressive than we left, and the shade of buildings is less invasive. I dread the moment the body Joel will start to rot for good. It was little surprise in store for those assholes that activists for revival.
Xavier out of the building waving us that it is empty. He makes his gun to Vincent, and steals my cigarette when the latter told him about our conversation. I look at the empty eyes of Joel, and hunting the first day that the fly alights on his face frozen.
Come swing to the Seine, "I said as if it were obvious.
Journey resumed. Our heroes dig a little deeper into the heart of the city streets and discover more and more devastated, in a silence only broken by the sound of a helicopter too distant to be seen. The city is steeped in smells of battle, odors that will be hard to leave, they know it.
Without warning, the river appears. It seems an oasis in a desert flawed. "It's a shame when we know as the Seine is disgusting," they think. But at that moment, it seems their crystalline and purifying, and they almost ashamed to come take a corpse, even though they know full well that she has seen others.
They argue on the Pont-Neuf, Vincent, head of the line and towing the other two bodies, on the same bridge where Roger had fallen long ago. The morning is already well underway. People will begin to leave their homes, and the military to do their patrols. Thus ended the saga of the body without cock.
I lie when I say that Roger has been dropped because it was me who pushed him. I asked Xavier if he thinks that this friend of the future which I still talk to him sometimes to the enemy.
-Man, he grieves, you must understand that there is not really.
-We'll see.
is true, what ... He has never met, how he can say it exists?
I ask him to help me lift the body, and Vincent. This gets stuck with us, but helps us halfway, and I advised him to fall back instead on the funeral oration. While Xavier and me Joell install on the parapet, I see him searching for words by grinding his gun.
"He was good in him, he starts, having given up killing us at the last moment. That's why, Joell, we decided not to let you rot in the sun.
"That's what we wanted early, correct Xavier.
-Shut up.
We push the body, making a risky drop, followed by a huge splash. Joell dark and gives us a geyser farewell before sinking into the river dirty. We contemplate the waves disturb the water surface, which seem to have no end.
There is something harder in the air now, maybe the fucking sun, or fumes from the rotting city.
We have taken too long. It is still early, but the militias are out. By squinting, I see a group of four men at the other end of the bridge, one of them is holding what looks like a golf club.
I swallowed painfully, indicating my discovery of the finger to my friends. Their shoulders stiffen, and Vincent whispers a sentence aggressive than I really do not listen. Eyes fixed on these men who come to meet us, the sun blinding us a little, we wait patiently to know where we stand. Vincent hugs his revolver and clenches the jaw.
It's like the Pont-Neuf is lengthened every second. The men walked toward us as if they moved away, and we do not distinguish precisely that when they arrive at our level. They wear military jackets worn, put on t-shirts with faded colors. One of them, the golf club, even in sandals.
"What is it that you just throw it away? We demand he aggressively.
We do not answer anything. Xavier puts all the toughness that he can in his eyes and his eyes do not give up the golf club. I guess he thinks the best way to disarm our interlocutor. Two of the posse stare, and one whispered to another phrase which I know that "You think ...".
The leader of the band walking up the wheelbarrow, and lifted a hand to examine, what irritates Vincent. The man lets out a low whistle, as if caressing a ferrari.
-We're going to commandeer for the revolution, man, "he said.
Vincent, imperturbable, will lay a hand on the tool. The revolutionary, considering the biceps of my friend has a smile that was meant to be ironic. He brings a wheelbarrow toward him. The mustachioed, without hesitation, shoots him in the foot.
The blast startled everyone, including myself. The man screams, followed by a flood of insults, and drops his weapon to compress the wound. Xavier, the whole body tense, looks like an animal ready to pounce. He picks up the golf club a quick gesture, and goes into battle position.
"It is our wheelbarrow, Vincent growls.
man uses one of his comrades, and the small group moves much faster than it arrived, calling us names. Xavier made the remark that in ten minutes they returned with machine guns, and we shake our heads. Yet we take the time to look away, towards the shore full of sun, carrying with them a little of what is good here.
We will not do it. We can not hide and can not resolve things calmly. Those opposite are crazy and contagious.
Happiness is the trunk at an unimaginable speed, and we are hardened by the day. We get up early enough, and you never have enough scruples. We have become people that we were not before.
was thrown over the corpses in the Seine.
Note: It manages not
Soon: Xavier is still my literary agent
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