Free The Insufferable Gaucho by Roberto Bolaño

jumped off the pile
of cardboard. The two rats froze. Good evening, I said. I asked them if they
belonged to the same group. They shook their heads.
    You, I said, pointing to the rat I
didn’t know with my paw, out of here. The young rat seemed to have a
reputation to defend; he hesitated. Out of here, I’m a police officer, I
said. I’m Pepe the Cop, I shouted. Then he glanced at his friend, turned and
left. Watch out for predators, I said to him before he disappeared behind a
mound of trash, there’s no one to help you if you get attacked by a predator
in the dead sewers.
    The other rat didn’t even bother
to say goodbye to his friend. He stayed there with me, quietly, waiting
until we were alone, with his thoughtful little eyes fixed on me, as I guess
mine were studying him. I’ve got you, finally, I said when we were alone. He
didn’t answer. What’s your name? I asked. Hector, he said. Now that he was
speaking to me, his voice was no different from thousands I had heard. Why
did you kill the baby? I asked softly. He didn’t answer. For a moment I was
scared. Hector was strong, and probably bigger than me, and younger too, but
I was a police officer.
    Now I’m going to tie your paws and
your snout and take you to the police station, I said. I think he smiled,
but I’m not sure. You’re more scared than I am, he said, and I’m pretty
scared. I don’t think so, I replied, you’re not scared—you’re sick, you’re a
disgusting predatory bastard. Hector laughed.
You’re
scared, though, aren’t you, he said, much
more than your aunt Josephine was. You’ve heard of Josephine? I asked. I’ve
heard of her, he said, Who hasn’t? My aunt wasn’t scared, I said, she might
have been a poor crazy dreamer, but she wasn’t scared.
    You’re wrong there; she was scared
to death, he said, glancing sideways distractedly, as if we were surrounded
by ghostly presences and he were discreetly seeking their approval. The
members of her audience were scared to death as well, although they didn’t
know it. But she didn’t die once and for all: she died every day at the
center of fear, and in fear she came back to life. Words, I spat. Now lie
face down while I tie your snout, I said, taking out the cord I had brought
for that purpose. Hector snorted.
    You’ve got no idea, he said. Do
you think the crimes will stop if you arrest me? Do you think your bosses
will give me a fair trial? They’ll probably tear me to pieces in secret and
dump my remains where predators will take them. You’re a damn predator, I
said. I’m a free rat, he replied impudently. I’m at home in fear and I know
perfectly well where our people are headed. His words were so presumptuous I
chose not to dignify them with an answer. Instead I said, You’re young.
Maybe there’s a way to cure you. We don’t kill our own kind. And who’s going
to cure you, Pepe? he asked. And your bosses? Where are the doctors to cure
them? Lie face down, I said. Hector stared at me; I dropped the cord. Our
bodies locked in a fight to the death.
    After ten eternal-seeming minutes,
he lay beside me, lifeless, his neck crushed by a bite. As for me, my back
was covered with wounds, my snout was torn open and I couldn’t see anything
out of my left eye. I took his body back to the station. The few rats I
encountered no doubt supposed that Hector had been the victim of a predator.
I left his body in the morgue and went to find the coroner. It’s all solved
now, were the first words I could articulate. Then I slumped to the ground
and waited. The coroner examined my wounds and sewed up my snout and my
eyelid. As he was attending to me, he asked how it had happened. I found the
killer, I said. I stopped him; we fought. The coroner said he had to call
the commissioner. He clicked his tongue and a thin, sleepy-looking
adolescent emerged from the darkness. I assumed he was a medical student.
The coroner told him to go the commissioner’s place and tell him that the
coroner