世纪文学经典:《百年孤独》第15章Part5

The people in front had already done so, swept down by the wave of bullets. The survivors, instead of getting down, tried to go back to the small square, and the panic became a dragon’s tail as one compact wave ran against another which was moving in the opposite direction, toward the other dragon’s tail In the street across the way, where the machine guns were also firing without cease. They were Penned in. swirling about in a gigantic whirlwind that little by little was being reduced to its epicenter as the edges were systematically being cut off all around like an onion being peeled by the insatiable and methodical shears of the machine guns. The child saw a woman kneeling with her arms in the shape of a cross in an open space, mysteriously free of the stampede. Jos?Arcadio Segundo put him up there at the moment he fell with his face bathed in blood, before the colossal troop wiped out the empty space, the kneeling woman, the light of the high, drought-stricken sky, and the whorish world where ?rsula Iguarán had sold so many little candy animals.
When Jos?Arcadio Segundo came to he was lying face up in the darkness. He realized that he was riding on an endless and silent train and that his head was caked with dry blood and that all his bones ached. He felt an intolerable desire to sleep. Prepared to sleep for many hours, safe from the terror and the horror, he made himself comfortable on the side that pained him less, and only then did he discover that he was lying against dead people. There was no free space in the car except for an aisle in the middle. Several hours must have passed since the massacre because the corpses had the same temperature as a plaster in autumn and the same consistency of petrified foam that it had, and those who had put them in the car had had time to pile them up in the same way in which they transported bunches of bananas. Trying to flee from the nightmare, Jos?Arcadio Segundo dragged himself from one car to an other in the direction in which the train was heading, and in the flashes of light that broke through the woodenslats as they went through sleeping towns he saw the man corpses, woman corpses, child corpses who would be thrown into the sea like rejected bananas. He recognized only a woman who sold drinks in the square and Colonel Gavilán, who still held wrapped in his hand the belt with a buckle of Morelia silver with which he had tried to open his way through the panic. When he got to the first car he jumped into the darkness and lay beside the tracks until the train had passed. It was the longest one he had ever seen, with almost two hundred freight cars and a locomotive at either end and a third one in the middle. It had no lights, not even the red and green running lights, and it slipped off with a nocturnal and stealthy velocity. On top of the cars there could be seen the dark shapes of the soldiers with their emplaced machine guns.
After midnight a torrential cloudburst came up. Jos?Arcadio Segundo did not know where it was that he had jumped off, but he knew that by going in the opposite direction to that of the train he would reach Macondo. After walking for more than three hours, soaked to the skin, with a terrible headache, he was able to make out the first houses in the light of dawn. Attracted by the smell of coffee, he went into a kitchen where a woman with a child in her arms was leaning over the stove.
“Hello,?he said, exhausted. “I’m Jos?Arcadio Segundo Buendía.?
He pronounced his whole name, letter by letter, in order to convince her that he was alive. He was wise in doing so, because the woman had thought that he was an apparition as she saw the dirty, shadowy figure with his head and clothing dirty with blood and touched with the solemnity of death come through the door. She recognized him. She brought him a blanket so that he could wrap himself up while his clothes dried by the fire, she warmed some water to wash his wound, which was only a flesh wound, and she gave him a clean diaper to bandage his head. Then she gave him a mug of coffee without sugar as she had been told the Buendías drank it, and she spread his clothing out near the fire.
Jos?Arcadio Segundo did not speak until he had finished drinking his coffee.
“There must have been three thousand of them?he murmured.
"What?"
“The dead,?he clarified. “It must have been an of the people who were at the station.?
The woman measured him with a pitying look. “There haven’t been any dead here,?she said. “Since the time of your uncle, the colonel, nothing has happened in Macondo.?In the three kitchens where Jos?Arcadio Segundo stopped before reaching home they told him the same thing. “There weren’t any dead. He went through the small square by the station and he saw the fritter stands piled one on top of the other and he could find no trace of the massacre. The streets were deserted under the persistent rain and the houses locked up with no trace of life inside. The only human note was the first tolling of the bells for mass. He knocked at the door at Colonel Gavilán’s house. A pregnant woman whom he had seen several times closed the door in his face. “He left,?she said, frightened. “He went back to his own country.?The main entrance to the wire chicken coop was guarded as always by two local policemen who looked as if they were made of stone under the rain, with raincoats and rubber boots. On their marginal street the West Indian Negroes were singing Saturday psalms. Jos?Arcadio Segundo jumped over the courtyard wall and entered the house through the kitchen. Santa Sofía de la Piedad barely raised her voice. “Don’t let Fernanda see you,?she said. “She’s just getting up.?As if she were fulfilling an implicit pact, she took her son to the “chamberpot room.?arranged Melquíades?broken-down cot for him and at two in the afternoon, while Fernanda was taking her siesta, she passed a plate of food in to him through the window.
Aureliano Segundo had slept at home because the rain had caught him time and at three in the afternoon he was still waiting for it to clear. Informed in secret by Santa Sofía de la Piedad, he visited his brother in Melquíades?room at that time. He did not believe the version of the massacre or the nightmare trip of the train loaded with corpses traveling toward the sea either. The night before he had read an extraordinary proclamation to the nation which said that the workers had left the station and had returned home in peaceful groups. The proclamation also stated that the union leaders, with great patriotic spirit, had reduced their demands to two points: a reform of medical services and the building of latrines in the living quarters. It was stated later that when the military authorities obtained the agreement with the workers, they hastened to tell Mr. Brown and he not only accepted the new conditions but offered to pay for three days of public festivities to celebrate the end of the conflict. Exceptthat when the military asked him on what date they could announce the signing of the agreement, he looked out the window at the sky crossed with lightning flashes and made a profound gesture of doubt.

前面的人已给机枪子弹击倒了，活着的人没有卧倒，试图回到广场上去。于是，在惊惶失措的状态中，好象有一条龙的尾巴把人群象浪涛似的扫去，迎头碰上了另一条街的另一条龙尾扫来的浪涛，因为那儿的机枪也在不停地扫射。人们好象栏里的牲畜似的给关住了：他们在一个巨大的漩涡中旋转，这个漩涡逐渐向自己的中心收缩，因为它的周边被机枪火力象剪刀似的毫不停辍地剪掉了——就象剥洋葱头那样。孩子看见，一个女人双手合成十字，跪在空地中间，神秘地摆脱了蜂拥的人群。霍。 阿卡蒂奥第二也把孩子摔在这儿了，他倒在地上，满脸是血，汹涌的巨大人流扫荡了空地，扫荡了跪着的女人，扫荡了酷热的天穹投下的阳光，扫荡了这个卑鄙龌龊的世界；在这个世界上，乌苏娜曾经卖过那么多的糖动物啊。
霍。阿卡蒂奥第二苏醒的时候，是仰面躺着的，周围一片漆黑。他明白自己是在一列颀长、寂静的火车上，他的头上凝着一块血，浑身的骨头都在发痛。他耐不住想睡。他想在这儿连续睡它许多小时，因为他离开了恐怖场面，在安全的地方了，于是他朝不太痛的一边侧过身去，这才发现自己是躺在一些尸体上的。尸体塞满了整个车厢，只是车厢中间留了一条通道。大屠杀之后大概已过了几个小时，因为尸体的温度就象秋天的石膏，也象硬化的泡沫塑料。把他们搬上车来的那些人，甚至还有时间把他们一排排地堆叠起来，就象通常运送香蕉那样。霍·阿卡蒂奥第二打算摆脱这种可怕的处境，就从一个车厢爬到另一个车厢，爬到列车前去；列车驶过沉睡的村庄时，壁板之间的缝隙透进了闪烁的亮光，他便看见死了的男人、女人和孩子，他们将象报废的香蕉给扔进大海。他只认出了两个人：一个是在广场上出售清凉饮料的女人，一个是加维兰上校——上校手上依然绕着莫雷利亚（注：墨西哥地名）银色扣子的皮带，他曾试图在混乱的人群中用它给自己开辟道路。到了第一节车厢，霍。 阿卡蒂奥第二往列车外面的黑暗中纵身一跳，便躺在轨道旁边的沟里，等着列车驶过。这是他见过的最长的列车——几乎有二百节运货车厢，列车头尾各有一个机车，中间还有一个机车。列车上没有一点儿灯光，甚至没有红色和绿色信号灯，他沿着钢轨悄悄地、迅捷地溜过去。列车顶上隐约现出机枪旁边士兵的身影。
半夜以后，大雨倾盆而下。霍·阿卡蒂奥第二不知道他跳下的地方是哪儿，但他明白，如果逆着列车驶去的方向前进，就能到达马孔多。经过三个多小时的路程，浑身湿透，头痛已极，他在黎明的亮光中看见了市镇边上的一些房子。受到咖啡气味的引诱，他走进了一户人家的厨房，一个抱着孩子的妇人正俯身在炉灶上。
“您好，”他精疲力尽地说。“我是霍·阿卡蒂奥第二·布恩蒂亚。”
他逐字地说出自己的整个姓名，想让她相信他是活人。他做得挺聪明，因为她看见他走进屋来时，面色阴沉，疲惫不堪，浑身是血，死死板板，还当他是个幽灵哩。她认出了霍·阿卡蒂奥第二。她拿来一条毯子，让他裹在身上，就在灶边烘干他的衣服，烧水给他洗伤口（他只是破了点皮），并且给了他一块干净尿布缠在头上。然后，她又把一杯无糖的咖啡放在他面前（因为她曾听说布恩蒂亚家的人喜欢喝这种咖啡），便将衣服挂在炉灶旁边。
霍。 阿卡蒂奥第二喝完咖啡之前，一句话也没说。
“那儿大概有三千，”他咕哝着说。
“什么？”
“死人，”他解释说，“大概全是聚在车站上的人。”
妇人怜悯地看了看他。“这里不曾有过死人，”她说。“自从你的亲戚——奥雷连诺上校去世以来，马孔多啥事也没发生过。”在回到家里之前，霍·阿卡蒂奥第二去过三家人的厨房，人家都同样告诉他：“这儿不曾有过死人。”他经过车站广场，看见了一些乱堆着的食品摊子，没有发现大屠杀的任何痕迹。雨还在下个不停，街道空荡荡的，在一间间紧闭的房子里，甚至看不出生命的迹象。唯一证明这里有人的，是叫人去做早祷的钟声。霍·阿卡蒂奥第二敲了敲加维兰上校家的门。他以前见过多次的这个怀孕的女人，在他面前砰地把门关上。“他走啦，”她惶惑地说，“回他的国家去啦。”在“电气化养鸡场”的大门口，照常站着两个本地的警察，穿着雨衣和长统胶靴，活象雨下的石雕像。在镇郊的小街上，印第安黑人正在唱圣歌。霍。 阿卡蒂奥第二越过院墙，钻进布恩蒂亚家的厨房。圣索菲娅。 德拉佩德低声向他说：“当心，别让菲兰达看见你。她已经起床啦。”仿佛履行某种无言的协议，圣索菲娅·德拉佩德领着儿子进了“便盆间”，把梅尔加德斯那个破了的折叠床安排给他睡觉；下午两点，当菲兰达睡午觉的时候，她就从窗口递给他一碟食物。
奥雷连诺第二留在家里过夜，因为遇到了雨，下午三点他还在等候天晴。圣索菲娅·德拉佩德把他兄弟回来的事秘密地告诉了他，他就到梅尔加德斯的房间里去了。奥雷连诺第二既不相信广场上的大屠杀事件，也不相信夜间列车载着尸体开往海边的恶梦。前一天晚上，马孔多宣布了政府的特别通告，说工人们服从命令离开了车站，成群地安然回家去了。通告中还说，工人领袖们怀着崇高的爱国热情，把他们的要求归结为两点：改革医疗设施，棚区修建公共厕所。随后，奥雷连诺第二知道，军事当局和工人达成协议之后，就急忙通知布劳恩先生，他不仅同意满足新的要求，甚至建议由公司出钱举行三天的群众游艺会，借以庆祝和解。然而，军事当局问他哪一天可以在协议上签字的时候，他望了望窗外电光闪闪的天空，装出一副意味深长的疑虑样儿。