Dark Passage by David Goodis Page A

whisper.
    “Well, why don’t we move?” Parry said. He
gripped the door handle.
    The little man said nothing. He was
leaning back again. His head was down again. He was looking at
nothing again.
    “What’s the matter with you?” Parry said.
“Are you sick or something?”
    “I’m not sick.” It was way under a
whisper.
    “Then what’s the matter? What are you
sitting there like that for? What's wrong with you? What are you
doing sitting there like that? What are you doing? Answer me, what
are you doing? What are you doing?”
    The little man raised his head slowly and
he was gazing straight ahead and still he looked at nothing. Then
he said, “I’m thinking.”
    CHAPTER 10
    The light changed again.
    Parry tried to put pressure on the door
handle. He couldn’t collect any pressure.
    The motor stopped.
    Parry wanted to hear the motor going. He
said, “Start the car.”
    The little man pressed his foot against
the starter. The car jumped forward and stalled. The little man
started the motor again, the car inched forward.
    “Don’t go against the light,” Parry said.
“Wait for the light to change.”
    The little man crossed his arms on the
steering wheel, leaned his head on his arms. Parry got some
pressure on the door handle, got the door handle moving, then took
his hand away, wondered why he was taking his hand away, wondered
why he was staying in the car.
    The light changed.
    “All right,” Parry said. “the light
changed. Let’s go.”
    The little man brought his head up, looked
at the light, looked at Parry. Then he had the car in first gear
and he was letting the clutch out. He was driving the car across
the intersection, turning the wheel slowly, bringing the car to a
stop at the curb.
    Again Parry had his fingers on the door
handle. He looked at the little man and said, “What are we stopping
for?”
    “Let me look at you,” the little man
said.
    “What?”
    “Let me take a good look at
you.”
    They faced each other and Parry had his
right hand hardening slowly, shaping a fist. And the fist trembled.
He wondered if he had the strength to go through with
it.
    The little man said, “Are you sure you’re
all right?”
    “I didn’t do it,” Parry said. “I didn't do
it and I won't go back.”
    “You won’t go back where?”
    “I won’t go back.”
    The little man put a hand to his forehead,
rubbed his forehead, rubbed his eyes as if he had a headache. He
said, “Nobody claimed it was your fault. It was just one of those
things. It was an accident.”
    “That’s right,” Parry said. “That's what I
told them. It was an accident.”
    The little man brought his face closer to
Parry’s face and said, “You don't look so good to me.”
    Parry was trying to make his way through a
huge barrel that rolled fast and messed up his footing. He heard
himself saying, “What are you going to do about it?”
    And he heard the little man saying, “I
think you better let me take you to a hospital.”
    The barrel stopped rolling. Parry said,
“Stop worrying about it.”
    “I can’t help worrying,” the little man
said. “Will you do me a favor? Will you let a doctor look you
over?”
    Parry was working the door handle. He had
it down now and he was getting the door open. He said, “I’ll do
that,” and then the door was open and he was out of the car, the
door was closed again, the light was changing and the car was going
away from him.
    He got his legs working. The pain in his
head was going away, and he found it easy to breathe, easy to walk,
easy to think. The whole thing was beginning to lean toward his
side of it. He really had a grip on it now and it was going along
with him. Everything was going along. And everybody, so far.
Beginning with Studebaker, although with Studebaker it was
involuntary. With the policeman who had looked under the blanket it
was sheer carelessness. With Irene it was her own choice and the
reason for that choice was an immense question mark despite the
things she had told him. With the taxi driver it was human
kindness. With George