Death happens

 

May 12, 1937, as Brits were congregating to crown King George VI, a man in the crowd was taken from this world. His death was the beginning of  the novel story in Smoke:

     "Doctor!  A doctor!" yelled Nathan, frantically. A thread of drool dripped from the old man's open mouth as Nathan struggled to lay his limp body down gently on the sidewalk. At the nearby corner on Haymarket, the lights changed, and traffic commenced.

      Nathan and Philip, speechless, knelt beside the stricken man, whose portly, suited body now lay motionless on the sidewalk. His eyes stared blankly upward into the morning mist. A crowd of people stood and stared. Nathan began pressing at the man's chest in what appeared to be a vain attempt at stimulating heart operation. In a sort of desperate gesture, Nathan gently slapped the man's joweled face as if to provoke him to attention.

     Then there was a parting in the crowd; a bobby was on the spot. "Stand aside, please," said the policeman, with accustomed authority. The two young men rose to their feet and backed off, allowing the bobby full access to this fallen gentleman's predicament. After conducting a few more ineffective chest compressions, the policeman gingerly turned up the old fellow's gold watch, which now lay inside his open coat on the ground, attached to the end of a gold chain that had strayed from the vest-pocket.  Philip could see that the watch showed 9:33.

     The officer looked up at Nathan. “Do you know this man?” he asked, while checking the pulse at his risk.

     “No sir.”

     “What happened?”

     “I was standing here by the window, looking in. I looked to my right. He was turning away, and slumping against the window. I took hold of him, trying to give him support. But I was in no position to bear his weight, so I let him down as gently as I could. He was, uh, blubbering, and that drool was beginning to come out of his mouth. I called for a doctor, and tried to, uh, somewhat, to stimulate his heart.”

     The bobby stood up. He looked directly into Nathan’s eyes. He had a gentle, though official, demeanor. “Did he say anything?”

     Nathan thought for a moment. “He did. He was going on about, uh, about the gold standard. . .” Nathan turned toward Philip. “Wasn’t that it?” he asked.

     “Yes, he said something about the gold standard, and monetary experiments,” replied Philip, looking at the policeman.

     The bobby looked down again at the body. He spoke slowly, “Do you remember. . .what his last word was?”

     Nathan and Philip looked at each other. Nathan was pursing his lips, trying to think about what had just happened. He shrugged his shoulders. “It was all so sudden.”

“Calamity,” said Philip.

                    Excerpt from chapter 1 of  Smoke