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Show Flying - 187 butts, candy wrappers, burnt-out matches, bits of olive-drab lint, one odd button, John Henry walks slowly, eyes on the ground, right hand ready to pounce. You won't end up like Tex. It's guaranteed. You will not die. Holding in his left hand the garbage of four platoons, John Henry walks on, thinking of death. They pass Arkwright sitting in front of his tent smoking a morning cigarette. He waves to them, and leans back against the tent-pole, enjoying the spectacle. "Hey you," says Karafa. "Let's go. Off your ass and in line." "I just got through workin" all night on the switchboard, sarge," says Arkwright. "I was just gettin' ready to go to bed." "You can go to bed when we're through policing the area," says Karafa. "Nobody's too good to work, not in this company. Let's go." Now there's a real sergeant, thinks John Henry. One who loves the job. What will you do when the time comes to retire, Karafa? You son of a bitch. The sun shines down upon them and the soft breezes off the Pacific Ocean refresh them as they walk. Far above them, a buzzard circles in the'blue sky, another scavenger standing by, ready to take over when needed. John Henry walks over a dead field mouse and leaves it for him and for the ants |