As George approached the gloomy lifeless lump of death, to identify it he hoped out loud: “bet it was that bastard, Curly! God make it be him! That shit has given us so much hell!” He reached out cautiously, for the collar of the predator and rotated the still body. “No! I can’t be.” He said. He discovered that the malevolent beast who attempted to murder his friend was actually Curly’s wife; his face went immediately pale.
“What in the devil’s going on?” he thought to himself, “Maybe Lennie didn’t kill her” he whispered. He quickly turned to face Lennie, in joy he asked “did you hear that Lennie, you didn’t kill Curly’s wife”. But Lennie was no where to be seen, “Where the god damn are you?” George yelled.
Filled with worry once again, he urgently scanned the horizon; glancing left, tormented by worry, he gazed right. So much in repent he again began to sweat, moistened with panic, he yelled: “That bastard! Stupid son of a bitch! Where in hell is he?”
A voice harshly pierced the silence. “George, I’m drowning. Help me George!” George rapidly rotated his vision, and he saw Lennie in the distance, trying to hold on for his dear life. “Lennie! Hold on!” He dived into the marshy river without delay and begun to swim, “Hold on Lennie” he shouted. “I’m coming, for god sake, don’t drown”. But as those words vacated George’s mouth, Lennie had nearly lost consciousness. He remembered the last time this happened, he remembered that Lenny had actually fainted and started to drown; he only hoped that today wasn’t a repeat of that incident.
George was nearly there, it was as if Lenny was drifting away, as if he repelled George. “Lenny, Hold on!” George recited again. However by this time Lenny was no where to be seen, he had been swallowed by the filthy while water of this swampy bog. George too had the symptoms of hypothermia; he had no option but to return to the sand bed at the mouth of the swamp.
As he sat there, striking the dead rabbit, which was Lennie’s last memory, he awoke. Grasping for air he realised that he had another night mare. His palms were sweating, and to him the whole experience felt exceedingly real. “God,” he said.
His racing heart beat also woke up Slim. “Don’t tell me, you had another nightmare George?” Slim enquired. “Look, we’ve been down this road before…” Slim was quit tired, but he had made close friends with all the other ranch workers, but his friendship with George was different they had a connection; perhaps it was due to the fact they had lost all their loved ones. No one knows where Slim came from, but they do know he lost his family in a devastating accident too.
“You know you had to do what you had to do, so why the hell are you all down?” slim interrogated, “I thought if you get out to the slut house then it’ll cheer things up, but no” he was now getting irritated. “For gods sake, just forget what you did, and go on with your life, what’s done is done”.
George was also gaining stress, “So what if I did what was right, I still aint no saint. I killed my best friend, he relied on me and I killed him”. George stood up, “he relied on me and I blew it”, he said in a much quieter tone; a tone of depression.
Slim began: “Look, I aint gonna tell ya no more, if u didn’t do what u did then Curly an’ his folks would’ve lynched him, you got that!?” Slim further enquired.
George curled up his fist.
“Are you listening to me, George, if u didn’t do what u did then Curl-”
“Curly, he’s the bitch hat started this!” The moon was brightly glimmering creating shadows on the faces of these two men. “He’s gonna pay” he claimes whilst searching his pillow case and duvets.
“What are you looking for, you aint gonna do nothing stupid are ya?” Slim asked. “Cos if your gonna kill Curly with the gun, I took it away” Slim was now acting as if he was worried about Curly but deep inside there was nothing but hate: “You should murder that son of a bitch nothin’ but your bare hands” No one knows but the ranch actually belonged to Slim’s parents, until they died in a major accident in the swampy river. Slim was only young so his uncle, Curly’s father had taken over ranch. Since that day, Slim has been working lie a mule in a dry desert whilst Curly and his father ruled the riches gained from this goldmine. Hostility, which had been stored for so many years could be seen in Slims eyes, he desired revenge, he wanted his ranch back and he knew: he knew that if Curly died then his uncle would have no choice but to let him be the heir to stupendous property. Thought had been gathering in Slim’s mind.
“Take this, I kept it in case there was another bash against Lennie and that rat Curly.” He directed George to Candy’s dog’s old area. He lifted the small dark brown blanket and uncovered an old tree chopping axe. “I want you, George to kill that bitch using my Pa’s old tree cutting axe, he will rest in peace if he knew that we used it to cut that son of a bitch’s fat head open” Slim smirked in a vile nature.
George agreed, he was about to go and murder Curly. “You’ll rest in peace soon Lennie.”
Of mice and men Chapter 8
The sun was about to rise, but still there was no signal of day. The moon hadn’t even begun to set. It was as if time it self had frozen, only the callous howling wind was fulfilling its job, even the leaves of the dead autumn trees rebelled to fall, nothing was live; or maybe everything wanted to be dead.
Lennie was dead, and now George was going to get revenge. His heart was racing, again a leakage of sweat had overwhelmed his body, he was scared, frightened; but he knew what had to be done. As he left their bunk house Slim followed a few seconds later with the axe. Slim knew that Curly was an exceedingly devious man. If he had the money he would employ a tri of bodyguards trained for a Queen, Curly could go to any limits to be safe.
As George walk towards Curly’s quarters, he was pacing up, he was paranoid of anyone knowing however he was care free, he wanted revenge for Lennie and will get it. As he reached his destination, he slammed the door open and rushed to Curly and dragged him out of his bed. George entered Curley’s quarters, not bothered to hide his presence, preferring instead to bust in and make his anger obvious. Curly was lying in bed, and quickly sat up to meet this unexpected threat.
“George! Who the hell gave you the idea you came in ‘ere! You get out ‘fore I start pounding your face in!” Curly boomed out the warning to George.
George replied just as loudly, “You son-of-a-bitch! It’s your fault! I’m gonna skin you alive you worthless scum!” George’s features were deformed by anger, a maniac driven by guilt and a sense of revenge. He shoves a foot into Curly’s torso, in effect kicking him out of bed.
“What’s the big idea?” Curly questioned.
George didn’t waste time to reply: “I’ll show you what’s the big idea!”
It was three in the morning, though the moon was still in the centre of the night sky. The wind blew and shifted the dirt in the bunk house up, brushing past the two figures in the room. On one end stood Curly, standing regally with proud silence: his scarred eye bearded bitterness. On the other side, stood the friend of Lenny, George, his eyes were focused but angry; his stance was tense but he knew his target.
As George was thinking about revenge; with a cry, a flurry of rage, Curly bounded forwards. He ran towards George and Slim with cheetah-like speed and fury similar to a lion’s. George stood his ground until the very last second, wherein he deftly sent a punch to the face.
The ex-boxer planted his feet firmly to the ground to overcome the momentum, while at the same time turning to face George, his fists bore the fire in his eyes. Facing George’s direction, his anger dissolved into fear as another kick to the torso was heading to his way; the pain was so dire that it nearly led right through him. He did his best to protect himself with a block, expertly creating a shield of defense around him, but it was no use.
The energies hit each other with such force that both fighters were momentarily buried in blood and rage, which was added to by their attacks. Curly bore the profile of fear and cowardice whilst George’s emotions showed anger and revenge. Both men had lost self control.
As George retreated and waited for the fallen Curly, the ex-boxer saw his chance and swiftly took an end-table and tossed it in George’s direction.
George was caught unawares and had no time to evade, hopelessly protecting himself with his bare arms against the flying piece of furniture, trying to move but the fear of pain grasped him tightly. George closed his eyes; expecting pain, he was pushed away suddenly, falling into a corner of the room. Wincing, he opened his eyes and saw Slim lying on the wooden floor. He was not moving. George stared wide-eyed as his view came upon a pool of blood slowly spreading around Slim. He followed the blood’s flow into the table Curly threw, and he saw the crude and rusty nails sticking out of the edge of the table; they were coated in red.
George’s awe and shock instantly turned into violent rage as he realized what Curly had done. He picked himself up and reached for the axe. Curly realized what George was about to do and in panic and confusion fumbled around his pockets. George’s madness driven his body to lift up the axe and run, his focus concentrated solely on the source of his hatred, Curly.
In a flurry of screaming and cursing, the two men collided. George brought down the axe, the blunt blade making contact with Curly’s chest. He smiled as he uttered, “You may rest in peace”.
As Curly fell to the floor, the axe was clanged to his body. George slowly retreating, stopped- his just realised the pain he was in. He looks down and stared in horror at a blade – Curly’s knife – wedged right under his ribs. Crimson slowly starts to stain his shirt, as George struggles to maintain his vision. He began to suffocate; the pain had reached his whole body. He knew he had taken revenge for Lennie, he died in peace.
Dull and puce were the only visible colours in the room. There was the moon, but no stars to be seen. The wind howled but there was no one to hear it. And there was life, but no one to live it.
