Soldiers Pay by William Faulkner Read Free Book Online Page B

a mad world spinning vortexed about his seat. “Sure, what do you care?” asked a voice, and waking he saw Gilligan beside him with a glass of whisky,
    â€œDrink her down, General,” said Gilligan, holding the glass under his nose.
    â€œOh, God, move it, move it!”
    â€œCome on, now; drink her down: you’ll feel better. The Loot is up and at ’em, and Mrs. Powers. Whatcher get so drunk for, ace?”
    â€œOh, God, I don’t know,” answered Cadet Lowe, rolling his head in anguish. “Lemme alone.”
    Gilligan said: “Come on, drink her, now,” Cadet Lowe said Go away, passionately.
    â€œLemme alone: I’ll be all right.”
    â€œSure you will. Soon as you drink this.”
    â€œI can’t. Go away.”
    â€œYou got to. You want I should break your neck?” asked Gilligan kindly, bringing his face up, kind and ruthless. Lowe eluded him and Gilligan reaching under his body, raised him.
    â€œLemme lie down,” Lowe implored.
    â€œAnd stay here forever? We got to go somewheres. We can’t stay here.”
    â€œBut I can’t drink.” Cadet Lowe’s interior coiled passionately: an ecstasy. “For God’s sake, let me alone!”
    â€œAce,” said Gilligan, holding his head up, “you got to. You might just as well drink this yourself. If you don’t, I’ll put it down your throat, glass and all. Here, now.”
    The glass was between his lips, so he drank, gulping, expecting to gag. But gulping, the stuff became immediately pleasant. It was like new life in him. He felt a kind sweat and Gilligan removed the empty glass. Mahon, dressed except for his belt, sat beside a table. Gilligan vanished through a door and he rose, feeling shaky but quite fit. He took another drink. Water thundered in the bathroom and Gilligan returning said briskly: “Atta boy.”
    He pushed Lowe into the bathroom. “In you go, ace,” he added.
    Feeling the sweet bright needles of water burning his shoulders, watching his body slipping an endless silver sheath of water, smelling soap: beyond that wall was her room, where she was, tall and red and white and black, beautiful. I’ll tell her at once, he decided, sawing his hard young body with a rough towel. Glowing, he brushed his teeth and hair, then he had another drink under Mahon’s quiet inverted stare and Gilligan’s quizzical one. He dressed, hearing her moving in her room. Maybe she’s thinking of me, he told himself, swiftly donning his khaki.
    He caught the officer’s kind, puzzled gaze and the man said:
    â€œHow are you?”
    â€œNever felt better after my solo,” he answered, wanting to sing. “Say, I left my hat in her room last night,” he told Gilligan. “Guess I better get it.”
    â€œHere’s your hat,” Gilligan informed him unkindly, producing it.
    â€œWell, then, I want to talk to her. Whatcher going to say about that?” asked Cadet Lowe, swept and garnished and belligerent.
    â€œWhy, sure, General,” Gilligan agreed readily. “She can’t refuse one of the saviours of her country.” He knocked on her door. “Mrs. Powers?”
    â€œYes?” Her voice was muffled.
    â€œGeneral Pershing here wants to talk to you. . . . Sure. . . . All right.” He turned about, opening the door. “In you go, ace.”
    Lowe, hating him, ignored his wink, entering. She sat in bed with a breakfast tray upon her knees. She was not dressed and Lowe looked delicately away. But she said blandly:
    â€œCheerio, Cadet! How looks the air today?”
    She indicated a chair and he drew it up to the bed, being so careful not to seem to stare that his carriage became noticeable. She looked at him quickly and kindly and offered him coffee. Courageous with whisky on an empty stomach he knew hunger suddenly. He took the cup.
    â€œGood morning,” he said with belated courtesy, trying to be