Beyond the Station Lies the Sea by Jutta Richter

Cosmos.
    â€œYeah, sure,” gasps Niner.
    Mama used to play “follow the leader” whenever Niner couldn’t walk anymore. She’d say, “Close your eyes, Little Hobbin, and give me your hand.” And then, Niner would walk along blindly next to Mama, not feeling tired anymore.
    In this way, the long paths became shorter, and the clatter of Mama’s clogs on the pavement sounded like magical music to him.
    If I could just close my eyes like before, thinks Niner, for just a little while, it will all be okay.
    As he thinks this, his knees buckle and he falls gently into a deep black hole lined with soft, warm cotton batting.
    Then everything goes still in Niner’s head, and everything is dark.
    Â 
    AS NINER COMES TO, it is still dark. Or perhaps even dark again, Niner can’t tell exactly. Next to him, a driftwood fire flickers. Cosmos kneels next to the fire, and next to Cosmos is Red Elsa.
    Red Elsa is ripping up a shirt that she has just dipped in the river.
    Then she wraps the wet rags around Niner’s legs.
    â€œOw,” moans Niner. “That’s cold!”
    â€œDon’t fuss. You gotta keep those on! It helps. Those are compresses. My grandma always used to do that.”
    Niner’s teeth are chattering. He holds Cosmos’s hand real tight.
    â€œStay with me,” he whispers. “Please stay with me.”

    â€œSure thing buddy,” says Cosmos. “I’ll stay with you, it’s gonna be just fine.”
    But it won’t be. Cosmos can see that by the flickering firelight. Red Elsa sees it too. Bald Pete just mumbles incoherently, not understanding a thing.
    â€œYou gotta give the little guy some firewater,” he blurts out. “Firewater cures everything!”
    Bald Pete tries to squeeze in between Cosmos and Niner with his bottle of booze. But Cosmos shoves him in the chest, so that Bald Pete falls over backward, and there he stays, seemingly untroubled, drinking his booze by himself.
    â€œNo, it won’t be just fine.” Niner is waning. He gasps and coughs and struggles for breath.
    â€œHey there buddy, don’t you mess around now,” says Cosmos. “You just hang in there. We’re going to the sea, remember? The stand, man, think about our stand!”
    But Niner no longer hears or sees a thing. He just lies there like a glowing fireball, like the orange sun in the story told by the Queen.
    Cosmos wraps compresses around Niner’s legs, puts wet rags on his sweaty brow, gives him water, and holds his hand. But nothing helps.

    Niner whispers raving nonsense that Cosmos can barely understand. There’s only one thing he understands quite clearly:
    â€œGuardian angel,” whispers Niner. “Guardian angel.”
    And then Cosmos can’t stand it anymore.
    â€œYou listen to me, bud,” he says. “I’m going right now. Going to get help! Red Elsa’s gonna stay with you while I’m gone. I’m going back to the Queen, too. I’ll give her the money back. I’m gonna get your guardian angel for you, I swear! Do you hear me? I’m gonna get your angel right now. I’ll be right back. You just hang in there, buddy.”
    â€œOkay,” whispers Niner.
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    THERE ARE TWO THINGS I have to do, thinks Cosmos. Get help and return the angel. But help comes first, that’s clear. It’s much too far to the Caracas from here, and besides, who knows for sure that Red Elsa’s to be trusted.
    Better set things in motion quickly, thinks Cosmos. Better hustle.
    And so up over the embankment he goes, down along the hedges, and then Cosmos arrives in the quiet street by the mansions. The quiet street by the mansions, where the soft light of the streetlamps glows not white, but yellow. In the quiet street by the mansions in front of a wrought-iron
gate. And it is so exclusive here that people don’t even bother putting a nameplate next to the brass doorbell.
    Oh man,