Bingo's Run by James A. Levine Read Free Book Online Page B

that you have had a most traumatic evening.”
    I nodded and looked down at his large white feet. He wore leather sandals like the ones from the Maasai Market.
    He said, “What is your name, son?” Though his voice was low and soft, it was not kind.
    â€œBingo,” I said.
    â€œYour full name?” he asked.
    â€œBingo Mwolo,” I said to his big feet.
    The priest said, “Bingo Mwolo, I sense a troubled soul. Pray, tell me what transpired tonight so that I may pray for you.” His fingers relaxed on my shoulders.
    I kept my eyes down. I knew what to say. “I witness the Manabí kill Boss Jonni.”
    â€œIs that so?” said the priest.
    I nodded.
    â€œMr. Mwolo, tell me precisely what you saw.”
    I told the priest that I had gone to Boss Jonni’s high-rise to bring him a present from Wolf. I told him that when I got there I found Boss Jonni shot. I told him about the three Manabí boys I’d seen outside the high-rise. I told him I was sick two times. I said, “Wolf want ta keep me safe because tha Manabí boyz is evil. Wolf sent me here because tha Manabí boys kill Boss Jonni.”
    â€œEvil,” said Father Matthew. He reminded me of one of the vultures that flew over Krazi Hari’s dump. Then the priest said, “Bingo, I have another question for you. It is an important question.” His fingers tightened on my shoulders.
    I nodded.
    â€œDid you see a black briefcase in Boss Jonni’s apartment? Bingo, it is important.” The vulture’s voice got louder. “You see, the briefcase contains important medicines for many of the boys I care for.” The priest stared down at me God style. He showed me with his hands: “It is about this big.” His long naked arms looked like vulture wings.
    I looked up at him Slo-George style and shook my head.
    â€œBingo, do you believe in right and wrong?”
    I do not believe in wrong, but I nodded anyway.
    The priest said louder, “Bingo, did you see that black briefcase?”
    I shook my head. “No, Fatha. I neva see no briefcase.” I know how liars lie. I kept my eyes sunk in his eyes, two lagoons of tar.
    The priest breathed two slow breaths. He continued to look at me, but my eyes did not move from his. Inside him I saw his darkness. I was scared of him, but not sure if I was scared of his right or his wrong.
    The priest’s neck softened and he took his hands off me. “Bingo, son, you are safe here. Go in there and find somewhere to sleep.” He waved a wing at a door to his left, turned, and walked up the stone stairs. I did not give him the three bags of white; I’d forgotten about them, with all the talk of the briefcase. When his shadow had gone, I opened the door. It opened onto a large room lit by one electric bulb. The walls were brick, there were three windows, and there was a small door at the far end of the room. The floor was a carpet of gray—children asleep under gray blankets.A couple of them looked up at me; the dim light reflected in their eyes. Several shuffled back to sleep. One boy sat against the left wall, smoking.
    I stepped over a few bodies, lay down in an empty space, and became part of the gray carpet.

Chapter 12
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The Fight
    A bell woke me. I was still at St. Michael’s Orphanage. I grabbed my groin; that was where I’d pushed the three bags of white and my money. I could not remember my dream. Around me boys stretched from sleep and some scampered around. No one asked me who I was or told me to do anything. I felt invisible, which was an unusual feeling for a growth retard.
    Some boys had formed a line at the back door. I stepped over some still-asleep children and joined the line.
    â€œWhat tha line for?” I asked a boy about seven years old in front of me.
    â€œPiss ’ole,” he said.
    That was all we said. Since runners are not talkers, I immediately loved the place.
    It took a quarter of an hour