endemic:
commonly found in a particular country or district or group of people.
Mira’s thesis about East of Eden was about the inability of the characters to change their nature or learn from their mistakes. There were characters who were purely evil, like Cathy, who abandons her newborn twins, shoots her husband, and then opens a brothel, or like Charles, who beats his brother, Adam, to a pulp then comes back with an axe to finish the job.
I wondered where Mira was now. Had she found another guy? Had she moved away from home like she always threatened?
The Three Stooges drove on. I prayed they were going toward Bristol. I tried again, for the millionth time in weeks, to speak, to ask the guys to let me go home. I didn’t feel well. I was sick. Maybe they should let me off before they caught it.
I was shivering from the fever. It was just what Curly needed to egg him on. Like any bully, he lived for that. A sign of fear.
“Oh, no!” Curly said. “He’s shaking. The baby’s scared. We don’t want to hurt the baby. Pull over.”
I didn’t get a chance to make a run for it; Larry and Curly got a prison-guard grip on me. Moe got out of the truck, but he stood back a ways. I could tell he wasn’t into it, and I was grateful to him.
The road was dark. I could hear water, like a stream, and see an embankment on the side of the road, but the only lights were in the distance. I figured if I got loose, I’d run toward those lights.
Although I knew I was in for it, it took me by surprise when Curly punched me in the stomach. “That’s for stumbling into me.” He punched. “That’s for being a dumb shit.” Another punch. “That’s for fun.”
The third punch brought me down. For a second, they lost their grip. Then I made my second huge mistake of the night: I didn’t run.
Instead, I got to my feet, bent forward, and, like a bull, rammed into Curly. He stumbled, the second time I’d made him fall that night. Larry was on me in a second, tackling me to the ground. And now even Moe joined in, pinning my legs.
“You son of a bitch!” Curly jumped to his feet. He kicked me in the stomach and in my chest. Every time I turned, he was there to get me. The ground was in my mouth, dirt sliding into my aching throat. I felt something shatter, like fireworks exploding in my ribs.
“Enough.” Moe let go. “You’re gonna kill him.”
I rolled to my side.
“One more shot.” Curly pulled his leg back for another kick and swung for my mouth, my teeth.
I couldn’t lose my teeth.
That instant I remembered how Adam evades Charles and his axe in East of Eden: He crawls into a ditch and hides.
With all of the energy I had left, I threw my body sideways. I felt the ground slip away as I rolled over the embankment. Then I was tumbling past bushes and branches to the bottom.
“Jesus,” Larry said. “Where the hell did he go?”
“He fell down the mountain,” Moe volunteered.
“Moron,” Curly sneered. “It’s not a mountain. It’s just a little hill. Let’s go after him.”
“It’s muddy,” Larry argued. “These are new shoes.”
I couldn’t feel my body. I closed my eyes. Magical thinking. If I couldn’t see them, maybe they wouldn’t see me.
“Do you think he’s dead?” Moe sounded worried.
“Maybe somebody gave him some peanuts in his chow mein.” Curly laughed.
“He’s not dead,” Larry said, but he didn’t sound too sure.
“Should we call an ambulance?” Moe’s voice.
“Hell, no. And get ourselves into trouble?” Curly said.
“Let’s just go,” Larry suggested. “I still wanna hit Dicey’s.”
“I hate hanging out with you guys,” Moe said. “You’re such assholes. If you killed the guy, you could go to jail.”
“We,” Curly corrected. But the word “jail” seemed to sober him. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”