until the creatures suddenly ran, jumped, or just disappeared into the unknown and fearsome world they had come from.
Sometimes he watched, fascinated, as they would slink through the shadows and rubble, unaware of his presence, intent upon not being seen by their prey or predators. One day, while there was still faint light finding its way into the inner recesses, he watched a huge tomcat slowly, stealthily, stealing up on something. He was battered, with a piece missing from an ear and large clots of fur torn from his body. He was obviously a fighter and survivor… no, more than that, he was a prevailer and Harry developed an instant affection for the cat. He watched him, not knowing what it was the cat saw, but it was obviously tracking something as he crawled along the ground, his belly rubbing the stones and rubble, moving a few feet… stopping… staring… nose twitching, tail beating. Harry followed the direction the cat seemed to be looking, fascinated and curious, and thought he saw some sort of movement… then was certain there was something back in the shadows. The cat continued crawling… then stopped, its tail beating rapidly, his entire rear portion wiggling… then he leaped and Harry saw the prey as it squealed and tried to escape. It was a huge rat and it continued to squeal as the cat hit it in mid air. The rat rolled over and got to its feet quickly and found itself cornered against an old sink. The cat slowly… cunningly… forced the rat back into the corner until it could no longer move and when it leaped the cat leaped too and grabbed it with his large paws and they both landed, hard, on a piece of steel, the rat squealing so loud it almost hurt Harrys ears. The rat managed to get out of the grasp of the cat but had nowhere to go and the cat continued inching closer and closer to the now bleeding rat. Harry continued to remain immobile and stare, barely breathing, trying to shut out the sight of the blood, yet glad the rat was bleeding and had to fight himself not to shout encouragement to the cat. The rat leaped again, and the cat caught him, and this time as they landed the cat sunk his teeth into the back of the neck of the rat and shook it violently, the squealing of the rat piercing the stillness, and shook the rat until there was a loud snap and the rat was instantly silent as it hung from the jaws of the cat. He shook it a few more times, then dropped it and looked at it for a moment… then pushed it with a paw… looked for another second or two… pushed it around for a few minutes as if it were a ball of yarn… Harry becoming very uncomfortable… then picked it up and carried it into the shadows, out of sight, but not out of hearing, the silence broken, from time to time, with the crunching of bones. Harry clamped his hands over his ears and pinched his eyes shut
Eventually he allowed his face to relax and his eyes to slowly open… everything looked as before. Then he removed his hands from his ears… and sighed with relief at the silence. He took a long, long drink and sighed again and soon realized that his mind was back into an old habit of wondering about the violence of nature but pushed it from his mind with another long drink.
The coat was hot in the summer, even in the shade, if you could find any, but he did not mind. He knew that another winter would be here before you knew it and he was going to survive that winter. His coat would guarantee that.
He gave up his dishwashing in the summer and did a lot of junking. He got a push cart as early in the morning as possible and stayed away from the row and the gangs who might rip him off when he collected a load of paper, or after he got his money. And, when he was safely distant, he took off his coat and put it in the cart and covered it with paper.
He concentrated on paper and cardbord. He had seen some other junkmen bring in sinks and pieces of furniture and haggle with the guy and eventually get a few dollars, but when he tried it the guy told him what he had wasnt worth anything and he just nodded and went out again for a load of paper. He knew the guy was going to keep it and sell it, but he just didnt know how to bargain with him the way the other guys did. So he stayed with cardboard and paper.
He took it nice and easy, knowing he would get enough for what he needed. He always had a bottle of muscatel with him and would take a drink from time to time and go leisurely about his work. Usually he would stop in some greasy spoon and fill himself with beans and bread before going back to his apartment with a bottle of muscatel.
Eventually he had to give up his apartment. One night he came back with a bottle and before he turned the last corner he could hear voices. He stopped. Listened… Sounded like a couple of guys, maybe more… could be three… but who knows? Their voices were muffled and indistinct and he could just barely make out what was happening. They were fighting over who was to get the next drink, or who got more than the other. He listened… not moving… the voices got louder and angrier and suddenly there was a thud and a gurgling scream, then another thud… and another… and he recognized the sound as someone being hit on the head with a rock or a pipe, or something similar. Then the thudding stopped and there was the sound of a falling body, and then silence… then the sound of someone drinking… Fear and disgust almost panicked him, but he forced himself to quietly leave. He stood in the evening air for a few moments, swallowing his nausea, wanting to get away from there as rapidly as possible, but feeling weak and sick. He took many deep breaths and closed his eyes from time to time, trying to push away the sound and the image. Soon he was able to take a drink, then work his way through the rubble to another building and find a corner to nest in and dissolve the incident in wine.
Even with the heat summer was easy time. He slowly pushed his junk cart through the streets looking around, taking an occasional drink, watching kids run and play a thousand and one games, looking at the trees, bushes, shrubs, and flowers, feeling free and unencumbered with the sun and air on his face. In the evening he would go to whatever abandoned building he was using, and drink, sing and talk softly to himself until he lost consciousness.
Then autumn turned the leaves and the breeze and he would pick up an occasional red leaf streaked with yellow. Now, with the cooler evenings his coat was always around him, keeping out the chill and keeping in the warmth, the tip of his nose cold, making him more aware of the friendliness and comfort of his companion… his soft singing and talking not so much to himself, but more to his buddy… his great coat.
Then the leaves stopped turning colors and fell, the trees becoming bare and naked and exposed. He sought out the sunny side of the street, constantly awake to the chill in the air that meant another winter would soon be blowing its way through the Bowery. It brought him even closer to his coat, knowing that it would protect him from that wind and the cold that would soon make the entire row shiver and nightly leave in its wake the bodies of winos who had passed out in doorways and abandoned buildings, their bodies blue and rigid.
But winter was yet to come and Harry picked his way through the rubble of a lot, happily aware of the sudden change in temperature as he walked from a sunny spot into a long shadow and then once more into the late sun. He heard voices and laughter and looked at a couple of older kids dancing around a wino staggering through the lot a short distance ahead of Harry. He saw one of the kids pouring something on the wino. Harry assumed it was water and shivered momentarily as he realized what it must feel like to the guy who was wet, but then one of the kids lit a match and tossed it at the bum and he suddenly exploded and was engulfed in flames and the kids ran away, laughing, as the wino screamed and tried to run but kept falling down. Harry reacted instantly and ran toward the bum, slipped out of his coat, quickly knocked the wino to the ground and wrapped the coat around him smothering the flames, the wino screaming in agony, Harry having to fight to keep his coat wrapped around him, but mercifully the guy soon passed out and Harry was able to suffocate the flames. He kept his coat wrapped around him to be certain the flames stayed out and to cushion his body against the sharp edges of the rubble.