Free Devil's Workshop by Jáchym Topol Page B

T-shirts. Girls, all in a clump, surrounded by cops, walking them to the patrol cars. A couple of them tried to make a break for it, but this was an organized action, they were rounding up everyone. Even Lea the Great! She was wielding a huge pair of compasses, battering them from on high. Then they threw a net, pulled it in, and she was on the ground. I scanned the area for the big man, Lebo. I knew he would put up a fight. We won’t give up a single brick, a single bunk, those were his words. Maybe he had run off and hidden between the buildings somewhere, or maybe he’d already taken a baton blow to the head. Being tall is no help when it comes to a direct hit – he was probably the first one they dragged away. I’m sure he stood up for his people, though, especially now! A blond ponytail flashed behind the backs of the commandos. Sara? Most people went to the ambulances voluntarily. At least they were ambulances, I didn’t see any vans. The police had the Comenium surrounded, and they were taking Aunt Fridrich, who looked huge in her nightgown! I had to laugh. Kůs burst out laughing too. She carried it off pretty gracefully, raising her hands above her head like she was surrendering! Hee hee, Kůs chuckled. We watched the last act of the Comenium through the blades of grass. It was hilarious – cops and doctors all over the place on account of a couple of grannies. Someone tossed a blanket over Aunt Fridrich’s back. I didn’t see the other old ladies, maybe they were already sitting in the ambulances. But what about Lebo? I looked for him till my eyes hurt. No sign of the Belarusians, but that didn’t surprise me.
    A helicopter made another circle over Central Square and disappeared into the sky. The action was over. The ambulances, escorted by patrol cars, slowly pulled away, until the only sound from the square and the surrounding streets was the clamour of demolition crews following in the bulldozers’ tracks with crowbars and hooks. I made up my mind and ran, crouching, down the hillside, which was probably only possible thanks to the general vertigo I felt after all that booze the night before. It only took a minute, down the hill, along the goat track, to the square, dodging the fallen beams and chunks of brickwork, avoiding the men in orange vests shining their lights in the gloom. A couple of cops were still wandering around. I crept closer. The Comenium doors were wide open: this was where they’d brought the students out. Lebo, are you in there? I shouted as loud as I could. Hey, Lebo! All around me machines were rumbling, excavator shovels crushing bricks and beams, stacks of bricks and roofing tiles. So this is a funeral march, I thought. What a strange tune, the town’s last military music. The men with hooks and the cops hadn’t made it this far yet. I slipped into the corridor, tripping over a trainer, a sweater, stuff that people had dropped as they were being dragged away. The bunkroom was still clammy with the breath of sleepers, blankets scattered all over the ground. I slipped into the computer corner, behind the partition. I’d known what I wanted to do for some time, so I got on with it.
    I needed to wipe all my fingerprints off that computer – I didn’t want to go back to jail, I couldn’t. There were notebooks all over the place, floppy disks, CDs, all sorts of junk. I couldn’t wipe my prints off everything, I’d never manage it, so I grabbed a bottle of thinner from under the desk and popped back out to the corridor, where the aunts kept their cleaning things. I took all the thinner, a bottle of alcohol, snatched just one thing off the desk, stuck it in my pocket, a scrap of paper, a piece of shiny envelope with Mr Mára’s US address. Never played that game of his and now I never would. I tore the cap off the bottle with my nails and poured it over everything. One match and the flame went shooting up. Like an idiot I scorched my hair, singed my arms – it hurt so bad my