Free City of God by Paulo Lins, Cara Shores Page B

Prospectors’ rehearsal square with bullets whistling past them. They cut across Main Street to try to get to Red Hill. Boss of Us All joined the chase, but he and the other policemen were losing ground with every pace. Each shot that echoed in the fugitives’ ears was in fact making their feet go faster. They were enjoying the situation. Later they’d tell their friends every detail of the getaway. They remembered Bonanza, Buffalo Bill and Zorro. From time to time they zigzagged like the heroes on TV. It was a shame the action wasn’t on horseback like in films, and if they’d been armed they’d have ambushed their enemies from behind a tree to finish them off. They were good with marbles and slingshots, and with revolvers they left nothing to be desired. They climbed Red Hill and headed into the bush. The police tired of chasing them.
    Down on Block Thirteen, the commotion spread from alley to alley. Some wanted to file reports, while others said they’d rather stone the policeman next time he appeared in those parts.Frightened, the children ran to The Other Side of the River to calm down under trees, in the lake, the pond … Housewives shouted, and news of the previous night’s murders spread from mouth to mouth in the drizzle of that sinister morning.
    The residents went to see the cadavers. A drunk amused himself by uncovering the grass’s face for each person who came to have a peek. The afternoon teachers heard about what had happened from the children. The hearse arrived at around three o’clock. First, they removed the worker’s body, then the gangster’s. Boss of Us All passed through Block Thirteen from time to time.
    â€˜Here comes that bastard!’ people warned.
    The residents took to the streets. They said nothing, just watched the policeman’s steps. Boss of Us All combed alley after alley. When he left, he was hissed and sworn at. He fired shots into the air and swore back.
    In the Big Plot, Hellraiser ate the bread and mortadella Pipsqueak had brought him. He knew he had to stay there until the following day. Boss of Us All would only clock off at 7.30 the next day and Detective Beelzebub might show up at any moment.
    â€˜I’m going to Lúcia Maracanã’s to rustle up some blankets so you can grab some sleep right here, OK man?’ said Pipsqueak.
    â€˜Good plan! While you’re at it stop by Teresa’s and get me a joint … And pick up a pack of Continentals without filters over at the Bonfim, and if there’s time get my .38 from the top of the water tank, OK?’
    â€˜OK.’
    â€˜Got some money?’
    â€˜Yeah.’
    â€˜Go for it!’
    Hellraiser shook the branches of the tree to get rid of the rainwater. Using a stick, he made a small ditch to divert the waterfrom the place where he wanted to roll out his mat. He thought about Cleide, Hammer and Squirt; they’d undoubtedly hear about the grass on the news. They wouldn’t be turning up any time soon. A mixture of happiness and pain tore through his chest. Killing always brought back memories of the murders he’d witnessed throughout his life. It was always the grasses, the smart-arses, those who had their greedy eyes on other people’s things and women who bit the dust. There were those who were unlucky enough to die at the hands of the police or in hold-ups. He’d always heard gangsters talking about victims who retaliated – they deserved a faceful of lead, but those who handed everything over without trying anything smart … a gangster should at least leave the dickhead a little something to catch a bus with. ‘The only ones that actually die are the fuckwits who cock things up for other people … No … I’ve seen heaps of nice guys die, done in by their pals while splitting the loot from robberies, or ’cos of schemin’, tight-arsed bitches or bar fights. There’s even back-stabbers