The Bumblebee Flies Anyway (25 page)

“Let’s take a rest,” Mazzo said at the halfway point, panting, gasping for breath.

Barney was suddenly doubtful about the venture. If Mazzo was running out of strength at this point, could he get through the entire ordeal? Shoulders twitching, eyes brimming over with moisture—not tears, moisture, he kept telling himself—he studied Mazzo.

“Want to go back?” he asked.

“Let me get my breath, will you?” Mazzo growled.

“Mr. Personality,” Barney growled back, but cheered by Mazzo’s refusal to return to his room.

A door swung open behind them. Barney looked over his shoulder, saw Billy the Kidney’s wheelchair emerging through the doorway. And then Billy himself manipulating the wheels. Craning his neck, Billy called softly: “What’s going on out here? Where’re you two going this time of night?” Excited, eyes flashing but not only with pain.

“You can’t come,” Mazzo said petulantly, starting to move again.

“Hey, Barney, can’t I come?”

“You don’t even know where we’re going,” Mazzo said, slouching forward against the wall, voice breathless, face glistening.

“You don’t know either, Mazzo,” Barney reminded him. And then: “Wait a minute.”

Listening. To footsteps approaching from down around the corner, the familiar rubber-soled sound of nurse’s shoes.

“Freeze,” Barney commanded. “Somebody’s coming.”

They waited, frozen, a ridiculous tableau, Mazzo flat against the wall like a three-dimensional painting, Billy leaning forward in the wheelchair as if sitting on the lap of a metal monster, and Barney himself, almost spinning on one leg, poised between the other two, like a ballet dancer. A nurse appeared at the end of the corridor, carrying a small basin in her hands, walking delicately as if she were afraid to spill whatever was in the basin. If she turned left, she could come face to face with them. If she turned right, she was probably headed for another section and would not see them. Yet Barney felt as if she could see them in the periphery of her vision but like so many other people didn’t want to see them.

They waited, endlessly.

She turned right and was gone out of their sight.

The tableau came to life.

“You’re supposed to be in bed,” Barney admonished Billy the Kidney. “A few minutes ago you were off to sleep.”

“I got to thinking about you, Barney. You looked so weird.” His eyes searched Barney now, studying his face, his crablike posture. “You still look weird. What’s the matter?”

“Never mind that,” Barney said, impatient and angry. He’d already said good-bye to Billy and he was on his way
to the Bumblebee and he didn’t want any delays on the way. “Go back to bed, Billy.”

The dawn of comprehension lit up Billy’s eyes. He looked at Barney and Mazzo and shook his head. “You’re going to ride the Bumblebee,” he said, dismal with disappointment. “And you weren’t going to let me ride too.”

“For Christ’s sake, let’s get going,” Mazzo implored Barney, breaths coming in gasps now, eyes like glazed glass.

“Okay, Billy,” Barney said. “You can come and watch.”

“Watch? I want to ride,” Billy said, excited now, rubbing his hands together with glee.

Barney glanced down at Billy, pondering the situation. He couldn’t afford to spend time on long explanations. It was best to take Billy along and let Billy do whatever he wanted to do. He was tired of making decisions for other people.

“Okay, come on.” While Mazzo shook his head in disgust.

They rode the elevator in silence, Barney and Mazzo resting, gathering breath and strength after the strenuous walk along the corridor while Billy the Kidney was watching them curiously but not asking questions, opening his mouth once as if to speak but silenced immediately when Barney directed his eyes to him and shook his head. Barney’s pain had changed again, seemed muted now and subdued except for occasional lightning bolts that made him leap and twitch.

The doors parted creakily as usual. Barney stepped into the attic with Mazzo but didn’t turn on the light right away. He wanted Mazzo to get the full effect. “Close your eyes,” he whispered in Mazzo’s ear. Feeble light from the elevator fell on the Bumblebee but he wanted Mazzo to see it for the first time in all its glory, fully illuminated.

Mazzo squeezed his eyes shut. “Hurry up, will you?” he said.

Billy the Kidney climbed out of his wheelchair after positioning it to hold the doors open. He looked at Barney in rapt anticipation.

Barney switched on the light.

“Lo and behold,” he said. “The Bumblebee.”

“Jesus Christ,” Mazzo said unbelievingly. “A car.” Astonishment in his voice. “What the hell is a car doing up here?” He turned to Barney. “What’s it got to do with us? Are you crazy, Barney?”

The Bumblebee was beautiful, glowing red in the cross-light between the ceiling bulb and the spill of light from the elevator. Ready and waiting for the big trip.

“Maybe I’m crazy,” Barney said, “but that doesn’t mean it’s not going to work.”

“It’s the Bumblebee,” Billy called, crooning the name as if he were singing a song.

“What’s he ranting about?” Mazzo asked. “What’s this all about anyway?” Dismayed now, weary. “You unplug me, get me up here with all this talk about going out in a blaze of glory, and then you show me a car. In an attic. You’ve flipped your lid, Barney.” He narrowed his eyes, studying the Bumblebee. “And it doesn’t even look like a car. It’s a fake, for Christ’s sake.”

“It’s a long story, Mazzo, and we haven’t got time for details,” Barney said. “But trust me. You’re right, it’s not a real car, not a car that anybody’ll ever drive. It’s a car that flies, like a bumblebee.”

“The Bumblebee,” Billy crooned again.

“How the hell does a car like that fly?” Mazzo said, sounding as if he were about to cry, from disappointment and failure and exhaustion.

Barney pointed to the skylight. And the platform. And
the stairs. “Simple, Mazzo, simple as pie. We carry the car up to the platform, open the skylight, and launch it into space.”

“Are you crazy?” Mazzo said, aghast. “Get me back to my room, Barney.”

“Look, Mazzo, want to go out in that blaze of glory? Sixty miles an hour and then nothing? All done, all over? Okay, here’s your chance. The car’s not heavy at all, it’s made of soft wood, balsa wood. We get the car up to the platform, you and me. Not that big a deal. Ever see the roof on this place? It’s like a ski jump. The skylight’s at the top. We get in the car, Mazzo. And we sail off the roof. Six stories up and off we go. We fly. The Bumblebee flies and we’re in it and where it lands nobody knows and nobody gives a damn.” He found himself breathless and shaken now, the pain all over him, not inside now but outside, like a thousand bugs feasting on his flesh.

Through the fever and the pain that ravaged his body, Mazzo looked and listened in his ruin and desolation, eyes bloodied, flesh glistening. And Barney saw a flicker of understanding in those eyes and realized Mazzo was seeing what Barney could see, sharing the vision with him: the marvelous flight of the Bumblebee, out into the night, soaring off the roof, a small soaring maybe but enough to set them free, joining the stars and the moon and the planets.

“Jesus,” Mazzo said, his voice an awed whisper.

“I want to go too,” Billy cried. “Is there room for me?”

“You don’t want to go,” Barney told him.

“You sure we can get it up there?” Mazzo said, measuring the distance between the car and the platform.

“Listen, I got the car in here. From the junkyard next door. Took it apart piece by piece and got it up here. And then put it together again. Allie Roon and Billy here
helped. And I didn’t do all that to stop now, Mazzo. The Bumblebee’s flying tonight, with or without you.”

“Hey, Barney,” Billy called, and it was his turn now to be awestruck. “How come you’re going? You got nothing to go out like that for. You’re different than us.”

“He joined the club,” Mazzo said. “He’s one of us, Billy.”

“Aw, jeez,” Billy said, on the verge of tears. “Not you, Barney. Not you too.”

“Let’s cut out the talk,” Barney said. “Time’s passing by. Somebody’s going to be checking your rooms any minute now. Maybe that monitor sounded an alarm and they’re already looking for us. Quit stalling, Mazzo.”

“It is true, Barney?” Billy implored.

“Yes, it’s true,” Barney said, in a hurry now. “I only found out a couple of days ago. I’ve been in remission.”

Tears in Billy’s eyes. Barney didn’t want to see Billy cry. Turning away, he said: “What do you say, Mazzo? Put up or shut up.”

“I’m going, too,” Billy said, face set, chin firm, determined.

“There’s no room, Billy.” He tried to say it gently. “It’s a two-seater.”

While Mazzo stood there studying the car. Or maybe the events of his life were passing before his eyes.

“I can cram myself in the back,” Billy said. “I’ll find room.”

A sudden sheet of pain overwhelmed Barney, lifting him almost on tiptoe, taking his breath away. Heart pounding, vision blurred. “Okay, okay. But let’s go.” Turning to the blur that was Mazzo. “You coming?”

“I’m coming, I’m coming.”

Barney blinked, his vision cleared, everything in focus again.

“I am, too,” Billy cried.

“There’s no room for you,” Mazzo said.

“Look, Mazzo, I helped Barney steal the Bumblebee. Didn’t I, Barney? And I deserve to go. Don’t I, Barney?”

“It’s not a joyride, Billy. Do you realize what we’re doing?”

“I know, I know. And I want to do it, too. You’re my friend, Barney. The only friend I’ve got. And if this is how it’s going to be, then this is how it’s going to be. What’s the big deal staying here, in this place?”

Barney felt like swearing. He was responsible for himself, and Mazzo was old enough to make his own decisions, but Billy the Kidney was another matter.

“Maybe you’d better not come,” Barney suggested, gently, making himself patient while all the time he wanted to get on with it, do it, before somebody hit the elevator button and decided to investigate.

“I’m dying too, you know,” Billy said, sniffing. “I probably been dying longer than you have.”

Christ, Barney thought, and wasn’t sure whether he was swearing or praying.

“Okay, then,” he said. “But don’t take chances helping us with the car. Wait till we get it up there on the platform, then I’ll help you climb the stairs.”

Billy let out a whoop of delight, and Mazzo gave Barney a baleful sour look.

“Let’s go,” Barney said, with a whoop of his own.

Like slow motion.

Or moving underwater, walking on the bottom of the sea.

Barney and Mazzo moving the Bumblebee, picking it up and walking with it between them—Barney walking backward holding the front of the Bumblebee and Mazzo
bringing up the rear—sharing the burden that wasn’t a burden really, not heavy, something that linked them together, finding as much support from the Bumblebee as they gave it. Stumbling a bit over the naked studding, swaying and wavering at times, they faced each other as they went toward the stairs, letting the sweat drip down their faces, crinkling their eyes to prevent the moisture from blurring their vision, concentrating so much on this marvelous event, this great undertaking, that there was no place for pain or anything else. Arms and legs moving in unison, as if Barney and Mazzo had been rehearsing this for weeks, shifting weight and balance as they went along. While Billy the Kidney cheered them on, shouting encouragement but not really shouting, whispering the shouts, Billy underwater, too, so that you expected to see bubbles coming out of his mouth and float toward the ceiling.

They finally arrived at the stairs.

Exhaustion overcame them now. They set the Bumblebee down carefully across the floor studs. Barney did not realize how heavy it was until released from its weight. His arms were light and airy, felt almost transparent.

“Steep,” Mazzo said, squeezing out the word between ragged breaths as he looked at the pitch and height of the stairs.

Barney nodded, incapable of speech, conserving his strength. Even talking required effort. Funny, no pain suddenly, a dull aching that enveloped his body but no more sharp knifelike pains.

“Wow,” Billy called from the doorway, “you guys are really doing it. Halfway there, Barney, halfway there.”

Barney looked back at him, managed a wan and weary smile. Even his lips seemed tired.

Gasping, Mazzo said: “Can’t stop now.” Pausing, blinking sweat out of his eyes.

Barney said: “Sixteen steps.” Wiped his forehead with a trembling hand. “We lift the car.… I go first.” Better for Mazzo to push from below, less awkward for him, easier. “Three, four steps at a time.” Barney knew he’d have to climb the stairs backward and crouch uncomfortably to carry out his part, but he knew nothing could stop him now, nothing.

“Let’s get going,” Mazzo said, impatient, eager to get on with it.

“Okay.”

This time it wasn’t walking on an ocean floor but a grunting, groaning ascent, climbing a wooden slatted mountain while they tugged and shoved and pushed the Bumblebee between them. The wooden stairs creaked under their weight. Barney strained to maintain his balance as he mounted the stairs backward and crouched forward to tug the Bumblebee upward. If he relaxed his grip on the bumper, the entire weight of the car would rest on Mazzo down below. The weight of the Bumblebee seemed to have doubled since they had carried it across the attic floor. Barney felt the muscles in his shoulders and back straining against the weight. Sometimes his foot slipped as he raised it blindly to find the next step in the ascent. He’d compensate with the other foot, shifting his body perilously, risking loss of balance.

Billy didn’t cheer anymore. He stood in stupefied wonder, as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. Barney paused once to look at Billy, and dizziness caused his head to spin and he almost lost his grip on the Bumblebee. Mazzo’s strength astonished him; he kept thrusting the car upward relentlessly, silently, calling up his reserves, the discipline of his athletic years maybe paying off. Barney wanted to call encouragement to him, to tell him that he was doing fine, but
he didn’t dare—he had to save his own strength and energy for the task at hand.